Barbershop

I went to get my haircut last night. The young guys there who have been cutting my hair for the past three years were visibly giddy. I was actually last there on January 25, the day the protests began, and one of the barbers told me, with a note of cynicism, that nothing would come of it. That was a refrain that I heard repeated by Egyptian friends during the first couple of days.

Last night was a different story. He was trying to convince me to try a new hairstyle—for the revolution, he explained. (For what its worth, these folks are Coptic Christians, which I mention to emphasize the point that this revolution has widespread popular support and is not religious, as it sometimes has been portrayed though I think and hope this notion is now thoroughly discredited.) Add to the scene a television, which was showing Qadafi’s long speech (not the 30-second one). The speech was surreal. It was fun watching it there, and that took the edge of the devastating tragedy of what is happening there..

It is hard to describe the excitement of people, and what is happening on so many of the city’s streets. So many of these scenes seem like bad nationalist propaganda, with citizens working together happily and joyfully. But the new rainbow murals in my neighborhood are real. I will try to take some pictures.