Berkley Center

Throughout my academic career, I’ve experienced a myriad of reasons for school cancelations: "Snow Days," "Ice Days," and even, after an unfortunate outbreak, what my peers and I comically called "Lice Days," but until this past June, I had never experienced a "Potential Political Upheaval as a Continuation of the Current Revolution Day." This past summer in Egypt, I lived in Alexandria for the days leading up to, and the day of, the announcement of the first democratically elected president of Egypt, during which I observed the myriad of experiences, opinions, and concerns of a nation in transition.

In the weeks preceding my departure to Egypt, my family and I were glued to the television, determined to better acquaint ourselves with Egyptian politics so that we might understand the situation I would be entering. Obviously for my parents, this learning process had more of a hysterical edge to it, but nonetheless, they soon enough became star students. Morsi and Shafiq, the presidential candidates, became familiar names, as did certain disconcerting developments such as the controversial dissolution of parliament mere days before my departure. Nevertheless, when June 20 arrived, I was registered as a member of several international security alert systems, and enjoying airplane cuisine on my direct flight to Egypt.

When I landed in Alexandria, the reports by the local program contacts that the atmosphere was relatively calm turned out to be true. This calm, however, can only be applied to the absent threat of politically charged upheaval, for this beautiful city was anything but calm. From the first night of exploration with a few other students in search of our first meal, the lively, bustling, and colorful character of this ancient city enchanted me. A friendly call, “Welcome!” from street vendors and pedestrians alike followed us everywhere we went. Pedestrians crowded the sidewalks and the streets alike. Cars created their own lanes as they maneuvered through the streets. And then there were the horns. Never have I visited a city in which the people utilized their horns as frequently, and for as many purposes. As one of our Alexandrian contacts explained, the meaning ranged from a warning to pedestrians in the street that a car was coming, to a traditional tune indicating a celebration of a wedding engagement.

Quickly, we settled into the routine of going to class and burying ourselves in homework. There were a few demonstrations in Cairo, and occasionally Alexandria, about which both the program administrators and the International SOS email list warned us; we were under strict direction not to get involved or even approach the demonstrations, for fear that they would escalate quickly without warning. However, we never came into contact with such gatherings, and thus, life for us was without disturbance. My peers and I continued our habitual walk along the city streets adjacent to the Mediterranean on our morning and afternoon walks to Alexandria University. It was not readily obvious that this was a country in the midst of a major transition. The only evidence was the graffiti that triumphantly displayed sentiments of the Arab Spring such as the historic date, January 25, and comments about SCAF, the Security Council of the Armed Forces, that crowded the walls surrounding the university.

In addition, engagement with actual residents revealed an electric climate due to the upcoming presidential election. Several Egyptian individuals with whom I interacted were eager to put forth his or her opinions about the upcoming election results. During our orientation, we were given advice to not directly interrogate people about their political views because it was a highly sensitive and private issue. However, with absolutely no prompting, a number of my acquaintances were eager to offer personal thoughts. During class, one of my professors explained her prediction that Morsi, whom she sincerely believed was the better alternative for Egypt, would be the victor. She addressed common concerns, dismissing the notion that he would transform into an extremist once elected, rather that he would provide the leadership and reforms necessary to cause change in the name of the revolution.

During another instance, I heard an opinion that directly opposed this. I was sitting quietly in the back of a cab, en route to the airport to pick up my recently located lost baggage (classic study abroad), when the student coordinator for the program, a young Alexandrian native, turned to me and asked about my knowledge of the elections. He then offered his thoughts regarding his distrust for Morsi because of his association with the Muslim Brotherhood. He instead believed that Shafiq would be a better transitional leader because of his extensive experience in the government. However, the young man was careful to express that he was not an ideal candidate, rather simply the better of two imperfect options. This was a sentiment I heard repeated by several others, used to justify the decision to vote for either candidate. He also recognized Shafiq’s association with corruption, the military, and his former position as the prime minister for Mubarak, the ousted president. He believed that many Egyptians voted against this candidate simply because of this connection, for there was an intense popular desire to eliminate anyone remotely associated with the former regime.

Both examples of eagerly initiated offers to engage in political discourse demonstrated the pervasive sense of excitement about political participation that, for the first time, could yield meaningful results correlated with their opinions. For, as the student affairs coordinator explained, this was the first time citizens felt as if they could truly discuss and debate viable options and candidates; family members and colleagues alike were divided along political lines. The atmosphere was alive with the excitement of political inclusion and the hope of forging their own country’s future, absent of authoritarian rule – insh’allah.

The day of the election, our program director came to the university to announce the special plans for the day: the cancellation of afternoon classes and a quarantined evening in the hotel. Thus began my very first "Potential Political Upheaval as a Continuation of the Current Revolution Day." She had arranged for cabs to bring all the students back to the hotel in lieu of our usual walking routine. They were given strict directions to avoid a local mosque at which scores of Alexandrians were gathering in preparation for the historic announcement. As we drove through the streets, I noticed they were eerily absent of most traffic and considerably quieter.

Back in the hotel, the other students and I gathered in the lobby with the Egyptian hotel staff members to watch the announcement. After an impossibly long speech delivered by the head of the Higher Presidential Election Commission, he finally announced the first democratically elected president of Egypt, Mohamed Morsi.

Instantly, the silence broke: the streets exploded with jubilant Egyptians, the characteristic car horns were back in full force, hotel guests emerged from their rooms triumphantly, smiles all around. This was a day of celebration—a day of triumph over everything related to the Mubarak regime. However, it is important to note that even with this visible jubilee, there were others for whom this was not cause for celebration, such as the Coptic hotel clerk who, after the announcement, pursed his lips and quietly returned to his station at the hotel front desk. The results, after all, were reported to have been 52 percent for Morsi and 48 percent for Shafiq, a very close election indeed.

We looked out of our balconies to observe the celebration. Within the hour, there was an impromptu parade heading down the street that included families and Egyptian flags, honking horns and shouts; the atmosphere was very festive. The celebration did not end that evening – the party was still going strong into the early morning hours with horns, shouts, music, and scores of Egyptians. When I was preparing for bed around two in the morning, I had to ask my roommate if I could borrow an extra pair of her earplugs; sleep would not have been possible without them.

This experience, in my opinion, echoed President Barack Obama’s 2008 victory in the United States, when millions of Americans were filled with hope for what his campaign slogan promised: change. In Egypt, this election energized people because of a similar hope that the chosen leader would usher in a new era in Egyptian history, even if individuals had varying visions about the ideal outcome and who would best facilitate this new transition.

One evening later in the summer, while my classmates and I waited to break the fast with my professor and her family during Ramadan, we all looked to the television as the new cabinet was being sworn in. My classmate turned and noted that today was a historic day, and she amended, “Alaan kol yom, yom taarykhy.”

“Now, every day is a historic day.”