Laugh Like an Egyptian

by Brian Howard

So I’m queuing at the entrance to the Graeco-Roman Museum in Alexandria, Egypt, where I’m spending a weekend getaway, about to go through the umpteenth security checkpoint in the short month that I’ve been in the country. In a nation where you wouldn’t be surprised to see a metal detector outside the bathroom, this has become routine: place your bag on the examining table, stroll through the metal-sensing door frame and answer an obligatory question or two from a mildly interested military man.

On this occasion, the rifle-toting man in black uniform asks, "No video camera?" Egypt is obsessed with video cameras, imposing exorbitant taxes on the devices upon entrance to the country. I answer the customary, "No, no videos," and assume the inquisition will end there. Not missing a beat, he continues: "No boomb?" Perhaps bemused with the look of astonishment on my face, the army man breaks into a big, toothy grin and continues, "No kaboom?" Seconds later, my composure returning, I answer lightheartedly but uneasily, "No, no bombs." The guard and I share a good chuckle as I stroll nervously into the museum.

It's somewhat embarrassing to admit that one of my biggest surprises upon arriving on the Eastern lip of the Saharan dust bowl is that Egyptians laugh. A lot. And I'm a bit ashamed that it's taken me so long to laugh along. Twenty-eight years of American media coverage had painted an unflattering mental picture of the Muslim world: fundamentalist, West-hating, angry. I wasn't prepared for levity.

Granted, the Egyptian sense of humor, much like the cuisine, is an acquired taste.

I've seen Egyptians engaged in acts of quasi-violence toward each other only to erupt in guffaws afterward. In Alexandria I witnessed a group of young men mock wrestling on the sidewalk. After one had nearly delivered a neck-snapping pile driver to another, the whole group, including the recently almost-pile-driven, stood grasping their abs in laughter. While strolling through the streets of Cairo, I saw a man try to forcibly remove another from a moving Vespa. Once the scooter had stopped safely, both men, after a pregnant pause for obligatory mock indignation, embraced in a flurry of gut-busting and back-slapping. Scenes like these, once shocking, now play out as slapstick street theater.

Then there's the subtler humor embedded in the delicate balancing act between earnest adherence to Islam and enduring life in one of the world's most chaotic, densely populated cities.

Over breakfast one day I was discussing with some fellow travelers the problem of translating Arabic into English. With its many references to Allah -- phrases approximating "thanks be to God," "God willing" and "may God make it easy for you" permeate -- the culture can sound stringent, exacting, fatalistic. Al-Hamdulelah, which means "thanks be to God," is uttered compulsively (following admissions of good fortune), and almost superstitiously; it seems at times to be the American equivalent of knocking on wood. Insha'allah, or "God willing," is used sometimes as an all-purpose trump card: When you say "I'll be there at 5, insha'allah," you're giving yourself two-to-three hours of leeway. (There are days that it seems no one in Cairo does much of anything when they say they will, because something, be it traffic or an unexpected visitor, almost always comes up.) Say with a smirk "bokra, insha'allah" for plans tomorrow, and you're admitting you might stop by next week, if at all.

Of course, few in the ol' United States of Whatever know much of this. And while it's popular (and not altogether wrong) to blame the news media, let's give that flogged horse a rest. No discussion of the Middle East can completely overlook the Palestinian/Israeli fiasco, and believe me, it's a challenge avoiding the topic in conversation in Egypt. It's a situation that, through these largely neutral eyes, seems hopelessly complicated.

American sympathies have always leaned toward Israel, and I suggest this is so for no other reason than because it’s the side of the cultural conundrum we understand better. I’ve been laughing at Jews for most of my life. And what I mean is that I’ve been absorbing the antics and imbedded cultural undercurrents of The Three Stooges, Woody Allen, Jackie Mason, Jerry Seinfeld and the like for as long as I can remember. To laugh at someone in empathy is, in a way, to understand him. Not that any culture should be taken at face value by its comedy, but laughter is at the heart of any civilization. American television and cinema have become, by and large, a world stage. And it’s a stage almost completely bereft of even stereotypical Muslim characters. It’s difficult to imagine a Muslim tearing up the borscht belt (“Take my third wife, please?”), let alone a sitcom (Two Guys, a Girl and a Falafel Hut? Mohammed and Grace?). But perhaps what we need more than anything is a larger cultural context to be able to laugh comfortably at and with Muslim culture, even a fictional representation, and not feel guilty about it. Perhaps it would help the world understand that the majority of Muslims, much like Christians and Jews, crave a world where we’re free to laugh with one another.

Brian Howard is a former music editor of the Philadelphia City Paper. If you would like to respond to this Slant or have one of your own (850 words), contact Howard Altman, City Paper interim editor, 123 Chestnut St., Phila., PA 19106 or e-mail altman@citypaper.net.

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