Marwa Rakha broods over Moez Masoud

I met him for the very first time when I was shooting E7na show and I was pleasantly surprised with what I saw; Moez Masoud is a young handsome charismatic man who is blessed by sound logic and common sense. He is nonetheless knowledgeable and passionate about his message. Unlike many other religious figures, Moez is witty, funny, and speaks perfect English. Whether I agreed or disagreed with him, this brilliant role model is definitely worth admiration and respect. As a trainer from the corporate world, I would give him a ten out of ten in presentation skills, attitude, and talent. As a woman who was insulted and humiliated in front of the whole crew, I would take it all back!

Let me start from the start! Moez was our guest on a few episodes and we had strict instructions from the editorial team not to bring up topics related to sex, homosexuality, virginity, dating, or Islamic legislation - “fatwa”. That day Moez came with his friend and avid follower Mohamed Diab – the dude who wrote El Gezira. For an unknown reason Mohamed shouldered the responsibility of looking after the interests and image of Moez. The first episode went well and although Moez relied on his personal charm than on his knowledge to get his message across, I still admired the guy and listened to his arguments with nothing but respect. Then the whole team had to change for the second episode and that was the beginning of the end.

Wardrobe is the responsibility of the stylist and that is directly coordinated with the editorial team and the director. Like everyone else, I went to change and I was handed my outfit - the outfit that put me to shame and disgrace! A pair of beige crop pants and a colorful crochet top underneath a long sleeve crochet black top. Mind you that I am far from busty, sort of skinny, and kind of demure and frail looking. I put on the cursed outfit and walked back to the set where Moez and Mohamed were sitting outside with some members of E7na team. Like a normal girl who has neither inhibitions nor passive aggression, I pulled a chair and joined them. Silence filed the air. Mohamed Diab gave me the “how dare you?” look and Moez offered me a sandwich.

I was still oblivious to the impact of my outfit when I walked back to the room where we were actually shooting. I sat in my place next to everyone else and waited for Moez to come in and start his episode. When that did not happen, I raised my head, looked outside, and saw what seemed like Moez refusing to come in and Diab speaking to one of the big guys. The team was getting restless and one of the editorial guys walked up to me and whispered in my ears “Marwa, can you change?” I said that I could not as my stubborn streak took over and suddenly everyone was looking for a scarf to hide my shoulders and whatever skin that upset Diab/Moez/God!!

A wave of numbness took over followed by a heat flush and an urge to cry. I left the room and ran to the next empty room. I hid my flushed face as I tried to work on my breathing. The editors followed asking me what went wrong and amidst my anger and indignation I howled something along the lines of “I am not coming out ... go ahead and shoot without me!” I was serious! Next thing I knew was Moez himself walking into the room, asking everyone to leave us together (alone), and asking me what was wrong. I asked the pious man sitting in front of me if he were not of afraid of me - the indecent unrespectable me. He kept his cool as he told me that it was not his fault and that being a public figure comes with certain pressures. He said a few things about his image and the problems he could get into because of my outfit. He talked about people and how he could be judged for accepting to shoot with me dressed like that on the same table. He told me that I did not arouse him sexually and asked if that was my skin showing through the crochet work. Moez apologized. He said he did not mean to insult me in any way right after telling me that he did not mean to make me feel like garbage; it was just job casualties so to speak. I am the master of this game; I know how to aim an apology that would sound like a second insult!

For the benefit of the team, I changed my top and went back to that table. I sat across Moez and looked him in the eye as he spoke of how women were sacred and how men forgot that women were more evolved creatures. He went on and on about respecting women, cherishing women, loving women, and remembering how Islam put women on a high pedestal. That was the moment when my receivers shut down one after the other; when I realized that he was just another one of “them”. In marketing terms, women were the segment he chose to target with his product; because of their emotional nature, they would be more receptive to his messages. He would certainly score more points with his soothing words; at a time when his patriarchal counterparts ignored females, here came the man who finally spoke some sense!

I have to admit that he is smart; if the women bought in, the kids would follow, and before you knew it, the men would follow too. Moez even tried to score points with a Christian colleague on the show by always addressing her as the representative of the church in the room and by repeating over and over that all religions are the same – was he thinking of converting her the same way he “cured” the homosexual guy? He was as fake, as pretentious, as superficial, and as gutless as the rest of them – the rest of those who gave in to the pressures of meeting peoples’ expectations and lost their true selves in the process. Moez Masoud allowed Diab to speak on his behalf, allowed the media to dictate his public image, allowed his personal relationships with other religious figures to decide which topics he was willing to address, allowed the gap between who he is and who he should be to grow wider, and allowed himself to judge me based on an outfit! In the middle of the shoot and with his usual smile and wit, Moaz Masoud said “God spare me Marwa Rakha’s evils!” – did he foresee this article coming?!

Campus - April 2008

For the love of Chocolate

I was curled up on the back seat of our old little red Seat - as in car - with my half asleep brother, my usually silent mother, and my always in control father. My father always played this tape on our way back from visiting grandma

.. oh mamy .. oh mamy mamy blue ...

I felt the wind blowing against my face and I was growing cold and stiff by the minute. It was a long drive from Hadayek El Kobba to Dokki ... the 6th of October bridge was still under construction I guess.

By the time we got home, I was longing for my blanket. I had a little blue blanket and a little pillow that I kept for many years. I left them behind when I moved out.

I got in bed and crawled under the cover pretending to be a crab digging a home in the sand. I was thankful for having a bed and I was happy to be in it. I dozed off as happiness crept inside of me and in that magical moment before a person actually falls asleep, I got stuck in a chocolate factory.

I stood there as I watched a big round tray rotate on an axis. Little chocolate pieces of all sorts and shapes were lined up on the tray. My eyes caught a one of a kind piece and I set my sight on that piece as I watched the tray rotate. Every time I saw that chocolate piece I would squint as warmth filled me with a quiver ... I opened my eyes and looked again at the tray .... and another shiver followed ...

God ... I was 9!!

Connected

Like the stink of your breath, your words disgust me
Like the stench of your armpits, your embraces disgust me
Like the dirt under your nails, your hands disgust me
Like the wax in your ears, your pauses disgust me
Like the ashes on your teeth, your hissing disgusts me
Like the man you're not, the man you are disgusts me
***
There you are and here is your cynical face;
Is that a smirk or a smile that lost its pace?
Are you here for me or have you lost the way?
Let me hear your voice or have you nothing to say?
Let me reach into your skull with my claws;
Let me pluck those eyes that could only see my flaws.
***
I cannot promise to love you but will you have me?
I know I hurt you yet could you have me?
I might hurt you again so should you have me?
I am reconnected,
Have been resurrected,
Have me now,
I am finally connected!

From the diary of a single white female in Egypt

I am now sitting on my cozy sofa in my new living room absorbing the warm orange tones that surround me. The walls, the sofas, the carpets, and the radiant heaters in my fireplace seem to congratulate me on my long-awaited hard-earned independence. I have moved into what I hold as my biggest achievement; I have moved into my new home … my very own home. People make homes everyday. I know it is not such a big deal. But you do not see everyday working middle class Egyptian girls buying, finishing, and furnishing their own homes regardless of the absence or presence of a man. You rarely see that sort of utter independence and autonomy in a society that did, and continues to do, its very best to keep its female half handcuffed to their male counterparts. I am writing this article in celebration of female supremacy. But before you share my feelings of pride, joy, achievement, fulfillment, and warmth I want to share with you my interesting experience in a perplexing patriarchal society.

First of all, I have discovered that, in Egypt, workers, doormen, shopkeepers, and security guys will call you “madam” as the only sign they know of respect. Whether you are married or not, wearing a ring or not, it does not make a difference. I am not bothered by the title as much as I am intrigued by its connotations; I am “nothing” and a “nobody” if I am not “someone’s” wife! My studies and achievements in life and the workplace do not guarantee me respect and social status. Why couldn’t they call me “ostaza” or doctor or even miss? I was tempted many times to correct them that I am not “Mrs. Anyone” but I decided to spare myself their suspicious looks and inquisitive eyes or pity and sincere prayers that I found “the good man who would make me happy”. I held my peace.

A male friend of mine volunteered to help me out but my bossy demanding self, instead of gratitude, I felt controlled and restricted. Naturally, when someone goes out of his way and offers you sincere help, he would develop some sort of emotional involvement. My friend began giving me suggestions, advice, and opinions on where, when, what, why, and how things should be done or placed. My never-ever-try-to-control-me sensors picked up negative vibes and I gasped for air in my invaded space. The decent me was immediately replaced by a vicious aggressive creature that turned ugly and nasty in every possible way. I drove the friendly hand away and, to avoid more losses, I made a conscious decision to keep my friends out of the way and sight of my green-eyed monster. Bottom line: I am not marriage material … I was created a loner.

Since I mentioned my male friend let me highlight another point in the day to day dealings with our very own Egyptian proletariat; they all spoke to him! It is my apartment, my decision, my choice, my life, and my money – mine alone – yet whenever he was there they insisted on totally ignoring me, and what I said, and only addressed him. I cannot even begin to describe how offensive that felt. I – a very worthy human being – was turned into an invisible person by some ignorant people who denied me the right to be independent. The presence of “a man” made it much easier for them to communicate than to deal with me – a woman! Thus, the man had to go!

Speaking of that I have to share a first of a kind anecdote; in one of the governmental offices, I was kept last – I mean the very last person regardless of whose turn it was – after the employee in charge was done with all the veiled and the “monakaba” ladies in the waiting area. In his eyes, I did not deserve to be served and I certainly deserved to be punished! In another office, the cashier looked me in the eye as he handed me my receipt yet overlooked giving me back the 20 Egyptian Pounds change. In that same office I have been yelled at by some other employee who got so offended because I asked about the approximate time the technician was expected to visit me. It is only fair to say that I have encountered some very cooperative and sincere employees who went out of their way to help me with the procedures and who voluntarily called me to update me on the status of my papers or applications.

The other thing that drove me insane was the fact that almost everyone that I interacted with in the process of finishing and furnishing my home – from plumbers, carpenters, electricians, to government officers like the telephone or electricity guys – they all assumed that “someone will be at home in the morning”. Who could be at home? Even if I were married, I would be at work and so would the husband. Do I look like someone who would have a live-in maid? Or maybe they got the fact that I was single so it was only natural that I lived with my parents – who had to be at home! This made me wonder about the concept of shifts … why don’t we have shifts? It would solve a big deal of the unemployment crisis that is eating away the zeal of the youth of this country. If I finished work at five and drove home in an hour then why couldn’t they send me someone at seven or eight?

I did drugs!!! Yes ... I smoked! On the verge of a heart attack and a nervous breakdown, a friend of mine handed me a joint. Perfection and commitment are two things that are unheard of in this country – ok maybe a few people have heard of them. From leaking new pipes, broken new faucets, and worn out new furniture to unmet deadlines and continuous lies and empty promises, I was always in tears or in rage. I thundered and threatened to use my media power – first time ever – and I exploded with curses and ultimatums at least fifty times in the two weeks that I had to take off from work – remember the previously stated assumption: someone has to be home!

Tips and bribes are two concepts that got so messed up in my head; at first I thought that a tip is money you pay in gratitude to someone who served you well. I also thought that a bribe is money that you were forced to pay to get served well. Today I am no longer sure which is which. I just lubed my way with money – be it tips or bribes – to get things done. I avoided eye-contact with whoever I gave money lest they see how much contempt and disgust I felt towards them. Very few people had integrity and pride – those were the people that I had to “beg” to accept my little token of gratitude for their assistance.

This was a very educating and enlightening experience; I saw the real face of Egypt. I got in touch with the nature of Egyptian labors; lethargy and apathy run in their street-wise smart-ass veins. Even those working in big stores need intensive customer service training; they need to learn how to handle angry frustrated customers instead of switching off their phones. Business owners need to invest in their employees otherwise they will lose customers – and eventually money – because of how unprofessional their employees are. I was swallowed in red-tape and bureaucracy. Two weeks off work were not enough; you waste a whole day to apply, another day to sign a contract and pay, and a few other days with the installation.

I also saw the warm sincere helpful nature of other workers and employees who just needed to be acknowledged as human beings. People never notice them and their services are taken for granted. So many people volunteered to help me and went out of their way to make this tiresome mission less consuming just because I showed some respect or because I smiled while addressing them. Some stores really have gems of employees but they are buried amidst the rubbish of their colleagues and some owners have no clue how much customers are bad-mouthing their companies because of their insolent employees. I have heard of women who suffered during pregnancy and childbirth that they did not want to embrace the baby after it was born; like those women, I have had moments when I hated the apartment and just wanted to back off on my dream. Today as I type this article I could only say that it was worth it … every bit of it.

(Identity - Feb 08)

Growing

In the dim light of the room I caught your eyes
wandering in my face;
feeling the fine lines that are bound to sink deeper.
Yes I will have wrinkles.
I am not growing any younger.

Under the faint light our silent still eyes met,
you saw four or five white hairs that sprung on top of my crown.
Why were you surprised?
I am almost a fortnight in years older than your tender years.
I am not growing any younger.

Your face turned to face mine,
but the look in your eyes was different;
instead of searching my soul for answers,
they raised reckless question marks.
I am not growing any younger.

Your face moved closer to mine;
I turned my face away.
I am growing wiser.

The End of the Affair

I have never had a problem writing about myself, my feelings, or my relationships. I got used to sharing everything with you - I mean everything - including the things that make people blush in our society. Today I am struggling with words. I am not sure how to express myself while saving the little face that I have left. Ok! Ok! It is not that dramatic; it is just hard - so hard - to say that it is over. The end has come. The day that I have dreaded for many years has come and I have to be a big girl and do the right thing. I have to quit the game - it is no longer my game.

12 years ago I was a fresh graduate full of energy and dreams. I was born with a natural strength and will power that I knew could get me anywhere I wanted to go. Paul Malcom, the director of sales and marketing at the Cairo Marriott in 1996 saw the piranha-like elements in my character that were perfectly hidden behind my soft demure facade and he honored me with the title that has changed my life - he appointed me as the public relations coordinator of the hotel. He made me a proud little girl. I would flash my business card whenever and wherever possible. I would make sure that everyone who crossed my path got to know what an important job I had. Were it possible I would have put on my name tag all the time.

In less than a month my media database and relationships mushroomed and my learning curve skyrocketed. I was a PR genius driven by ambition and an unquenchable thirst for achievement and growth. I used to scan each and every newspaper and magazine for creative press releases, events, and what have you. I looked up to the PR stars and divas at the time as I secretly competed with each one of them. I had a secret file where I kept count of their published material versus mine and I took note of every successful event they ever created and tested my own creativity on how to make their events better were I in their shoes.

Other than taking courses, reading books, surfing sites, and jotting down my own ideas for when the time was right, I had timeframes for my career. By the age of 24 I was the youngest PR manager in Egypt and my name began shining next to the divas that I looked up to. By the age of 27 I became the youngest director of PR in Egypt and the most expensive. There was a time when I outshined everyone and I used to compete with no one but myself and whenever I reached a benchmark, I raised the par even higher. I became a PR diva myself and my media relations were never better.

On my way up, and sitting there on the top, I forgot to look at the stars that I used to covet. I did not notice how many fell from the sky, how many ceased to shine, and how many grew into stagnation. Only when I turned 30 that I began noticing the changes. I was slowly and gradually falling out of love with the job. My passion and drive was fading along with my media relationships and power. It was a slow process that only reflected on the dim light that I, as a once shining star, was emitting. I began looking for the names that I once scanned the papers for, only to realize that they have been replaced by other names; names and faces that I never noticed before. Some of the familiar names were still there but they seemed weak and faint as though their power had given up on them.

I got into the Ritz-Carlton as the youngest director of PR and one of the most successful and while I was left there to rot, my peers took charge of areas and regions. I watched the young sales people set foot in the hotel as young promising executives and, in the six years that my career came to a standstill, they got promoted to assistant managers, managers, now directors, and will soon head whole sales and marketing teams. Where would that leave me? Exactly where I started seven years back and exactly where I will be seven years from now! A dead end! I will always be the PR girl; little Murva - as one of my GMs used to call me. No matter how big I grew, I will never be on the board of executives - why? Because I will always report to the director of sales and marketing.

The title could change - be it marketing communication or communications - yet the job will always be the same, the boss will always be the same, if not worse, and the GM will always call me for pictures and press releases. Getting an area position now seems like a mirage - not because it is hard, but rather because it is just another title! I will never be looked at or treated as the qualified marketer that I am. I will always be locked up in a box in the sales and marketing department. I will always have a regional dickhead who, at the back of his stupid head, thinks that PR girls should keep their mouths shut while the marketing gurus talk. I will always have someone confusing my title with my experience and turning me into an order taker.
The past three, almost four, years of my life were like an eye-opener. I found the perfect outlet for my marketing knowledge and experience when I began teaching at the AUC. I finally have a chance to create a second line of people who will grow into great marketers. I have also embarked on a career in training - silly hoteliers who have seen nothing outside their little Barbie world think little of trainers and believe that anything outside their hotel is not a career. No one explained to them that a trainer is a consultant in his field and that I have finally found my decent respected position in the training room as a business partner not as the idiotic toy they want me to be.

Too much has been going on in my life on all fronts and I had no more room to keep anything within. I needed to vent; hence came the writing - my true voice! And writing led to my TV exposure ... and I finally got back the fulfillment that my original career has denied me. I am grateful for the options that I have been given and I am thankful for the God-given gifts that I was blessed with. I am lucky that I came across people who recognized my potential and I do not regret that I ever took those risks. I still remember his words when he interviewed me last May for my current position; "I am giving you a career" he said. I felt a slap on the face and, as I swallowed the insult, I felt that my victories, achievements, and success stories on all other fronts mean nothing to this man who thought that the world revolved around his hotel.

I know that some people will delete my number, others will not call me anymore, and others will not answer me when I call - but it's ok. I know that I will no longer have the backup of the corporate world but I also know that I will never be a nobody ... I will always be me .. the me that I have always been true to. I am finally free and happy .... I have resigned and ended the affair.

The Toilet Seat

Barren is the desert where you threw your seed
Barren is the heart that knows not what you need
Barren is the mind that forced you to read
Barren is the soul that never takes the lead
Barren is the love that you ceased to feed
Flush .. the toilet seat is up
The toilet seat is up!

Part 2 - What goes on in a man's head?

Man: She is sweet

His Head: There is always sweeter ... check out her friends

Man: She is also cute

His Head: Cute? She is too fat/skinny/dark/fair/tall/short ... naaaah ... she is so not your style ... check out her friends

Man: But she is smart .. rare these days

His Head: Smart? Because she quoted a few writers, read a few books, held a few arguments, had some opinions ... come on ... you can do better!

Man: She is so natural and spontaneous

His Head: You mean too wild/ not wild enough? Too tame/ not tame enough? Too blunt/not blunt enough? Too eager to please you/ not eager enough? ... check out her friends on facebook

Man: I do not want her friends .. I want her!

His Head: You want to settle for less when you can have more? Now look me in the eye and tell me that you like her that much!

Man: Well ... it was just a few dates/chats

His Head: Then you keep her at an arm's length as you explore greener pasturesMan: Yeah .. this is the ultimate win-win situation; I win and you win .. hahahahaha .... ahhhhahahahahahaha ... heeeeheeeeeheeee

What happens in a man's head?

My lovely sweet cute adorable friend sent me a message that I will sum up, then will answer the significant question she threw on my table:

"I don't want fucking men to dictate my fucking mood!!! I'm sick and fucking tired of being on cloud nine one minute coz Mr. X asked me out for coffee...and then being thrown into a pitfire in the deepest darkest corner of hell coz seven days later...he hasn't called me!!! The funny thing is, for the half hour we talked, he seemed completely smitten! I made him laugh alot, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he liked my opinions. He sometimes paused, looking for the right thing to say. I thought-stupid me!-that this was going to make all the difference. I would just really like to know what happens in a man's mind that after such a great start, it quickly goes kaput! It makes me feel so small, insignificant, ugly stupid when a man does that to me...especially when I can't find a valid rational reason!!!!!!!!!!!!"

What goes on in a man's head? ... something like this:

Man: WOW .. what a gal!!
His Head: yeah .. what a gal
Man: You do not sound as thrilled as I thought you would be
His Head: Thrilled?!! Are you kidding me, man?
Man: Why? She is smart, cute, and absolutely awesome
His Head: Yes .. and this is exactly why she is no good ... got it?
Man: Come on ... I have not had such an interesting conversation in ages ... I had a great time.
His Head: You liked her wild uninhibited spirit?
Man: Yes .. this is exactly what drew me to her .... she is just perfect
His Head: How on earth will you control her?
Man: What? Control her?
His Head: If you have a fight, she will win. If you fight again, she will complain. If you fight again and again, she will leave ... she will dump you and move on.
Man: But she would be so much in love with me
His Head: Such women are more in love with themselves and they have a lot of that nasty thing called self respect!
Man: Ok, then I will not fight with her
His Head: Ok! What happens when you flirt? Again, she will not take it ... she will dump you!
Man: I guess I will have to stop flirting.
His Head: Fine! But if you do not listen to her and make time for her, she will walk away!
Man: No .. No .. I love talking to her ... I will listen. I love her company ... I will find the time!
His Head: Sweet talking will get you no where with such a girl. She is confident and knows what she is worth. She will not believe your crap.
Man: I will not feed her crap then
His Head: She has a fulfilling life and plenty of friends and activities. You will never own her.
Man: I do not want to own her, I want to love her.
His Head: Shame on you!!!!! You sound like a pussy .... you do not want to own her, you want to love her, you will not feed her crap, you will make time for her, you will listen to her, you will not flirt, you will not fight, and you do not want to control her .... what kind of man are you?!!! You are not a man!!!

Man & His Head unite forces ... and run away ... you scared him away hun
xxx

The Poison Tree - planted & grown in Egypt

Where to find the book?

Online: http://www.bookspotonline.com/ please email moustafa@bookspotonline.com

In Maadi:

Kotob Khan - Laselky street

Book Spot - Street 9

In Zamalek:

Diwan - 26 July street

Downtown:

Omar Bookstore - Talaat Harb

Pottery Cafe - in front of AUC

AUC bookstore

Heliopolis:

Diwan

Mansoura:

Books & Beans - Geziret El Ward

Alexandria:

Ma3rouf Bookstores - San Stefano Mall