In Egyptian slang, one way to tell someone not to be overly violent or confrontational is to say, "Don't go all Chicago on me."
The reason: Egyptians harbor plenty of stereotypes about America and Americans, but among the more interesting ones is that Chicago-above most other U.S. metros-is riddled with gang warfare and extremely dangerous.
I was prepared for the more run-of-the-mill misconceptions of the U.S.-that we are irreverent, racist, greedy, arrogant and hyper-sexual-but the notion of Chicago's uniquely violent character took me completely by surprise.
One of my friends, upon telling acquaintances that he's from Chicago, has had people throw up their hands like they're holding a machine gun, pretend to fire and yell, "Ah, Chicago! Al Capone ba-ba-ba-ba-ba."
But now Egyptians are beginning to associate Chicago with one of the Windy City's most famous residents: President-elect Barack Obama.
This past Sunday my friends and I were invited back to the Imam Shafi neighborhood for round two of our immersion experience in Egyptian politics, the neighborhood political meeting of Ahmed Salaama, a member of the Maglis As-Shoura-one of Egypt's two national legislative bodies-who bears a strong resemblance to HBO tough-guy Tony Soprano.
This past week's meeting was exactly like the first. We were ushered to the front of the room, treated as the guests of honor, and offered an unending supply of coffee, tea, cold drinks and cigarettes. And just like the first time, Salaama put the meeting on hold, gave a brief introduction about the possibility for understanding between Egypt and the United States and asked us to come to the front and give speeches.
Salaama's comments were focused on stereotypes Egyptians have of Americans and vice versa. He asked to explain what stereotypes Americans hold about Egyptians, and whether our experiences in Egypt had done anything to change them.
The West, I said, seems to vacillate between exoticizing the Middle East and fearing it, but that many Americans are able to see past the generalizations about the Middle East.
Then, in the middle of my speech, a man in the back yelled "Obama! You elected Obama."
It was enough to lend credence to my claims that Americans could elevate themselves above stereotypes and generalizations. One man, one symbol, was enough.
Salaama seized upon the Obama theme and discussed the importance of dialogue between the United States and the developing world. Obama's election, he said, represented a great opportunity. With Obama at the helm, the United States could reform its image abroad. Over and over again, he said "the door is open."
Then, Salaama called Hamdi up to the front-a politician from Aswan in Southern Egypt who by under America's racial classification would be seen as black. Obama's victory, Hamdi said, represented a tremendous victory for all people of color around the world because it proved that there was something to America's claims of equality and freedom for all.
Others at the meeting joined Hamdi and Salaama in praising Obama. I don't doubt that a lot of the speechmaking was showmanship for our benefit, but even so, there was genuine hope in their statements.
Egyptians are, in general, doubtful about prospects for change. After all, this is a country that has only seen a new president upon the death or assassination of the predecessor. But even here, where cynicism runs deep, Obama is seen as a chance for a better future, a bright star visible in an otherwise stormy sky.
I don't think Obama will come close to fulfilling most of the expectations that the domestic and international community has placed on his shoulders, but Americans-of all political orientations-would be foolish not to recognize that Obama gives the United States what it desperately needs right now: a second chance-a chance to change a few stereotypes.
Yousef AbuGharbieh is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Monday.
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