Real freedom lies in reclaiming the territory of individual and collective imagination, writes Alia Mossallam* Laken, el Sharee' Le-min? El Share' Lena! Ehna Lewahdenna! Wel nas el tanyeen, dol mesh menenna dul nas ananeyeen, fi makanhum waafin, dul mesh menenna! And whose streets may they be? The streets are ours, and ours alone. As for those 'others', they are not of us, Standing selfishly; quiet and passive; They are not of us. (From a Salah Jahin song written for Yousef Chahine's 1976 'Awdat Al-Ibn Al Dal' -- The return of the Prodigal Son) The first I heard of Salah Jahin's lyrics was almost a decade ago in a cultural evening in one of Townhouse Gallery's factory spaces. I will never forget the energy that rippled through the room with the start of this song, and how suddenly, almost simultaneously, an audience of intellectuals, activists and "leftists" (your typical ' wust el-balad crowd' at the time) rose to their feet and sang along enthusiastically, almost militantly, as they pumped their fists in the air. A collective memory tickled and spurred to life, as each individually and collectively asserted whose streets these really were. This was possibly the start of the transformation of downtown Cairo, from a space of a particular "intellectual" and politically affiliated stratum, to a space hosting many a cultural venue and event that catered to a wider and more expansive audience. It would be difficult to separate this cultural shift from political events of the last decade or so. Since the second Palestinian Intifada of the year 2000, Cairiene streets witnessed more political expressions of contention and solidarity than they had for at least a decade before. Though the issues were mainly ones of regional concern (issues related to events in Palestine and Iraq), with time political contention was diverted to internal affairs as well. In 2005, and after violent police reactions to protesters to the constitutional referendum, a campaign was started by a group of activists to "reclaim" the streets of Cairo. 'El-Share' Lena' campaign started as a movement by and for women, in the name of those harassed during the protests. With time, the movement grew to stand for much more. It became about finding new means and spaces for social and political expression in public space, a retrieval of the streets of Cairo as legitimate space for such means and modes of expression. 'El Share' Lena' went on to be used for several other civil society initiatives in public spaces outside of Cairo. A movement to re-explore, rediscover and redefine our streets was growing. Many a cultural platform for new, alternative and independent forms of art started sprouting in the downtown area during that time. Places like an old warehouse transformed into Rawabet, an independent, affordable theatre to talented yet amateur performers and audiences alike, while the Contemporary Image Collective (CIC) in Monira was set up for the visual arts. A bookstore, El-Balad, doubles as a cultural hub, open to youth from the area. The symposiums and initiatives these spaces sponsored, like 'Al-raseef ' (Tales from the pavement), explored and engaged with kiosks, pavements, and corners of downtown streets; while the bi-yearly "Photo Cairo" is dotted around designated arts venues as well as lightly modified apartments in buildings such as Immobilia. Most interesting, however, is the start of the new street-theatre troupe "Haala". The troupe's aim being the production of populist theatre, " al-masrah al-sha'bey ", where productions cater for a general audience. Performances have made venues of streets, bridges, slums and rooftops, of downtown Cairo as well as other Egyptian cities. Brimming with ideas for plays in his first year, Mohammed Abdelfattah could find no space to perform while studying theatre at the University of Alexandria. "To get a space at the university you had to at least be in your last year of study, otherwise there was just no way. I tried other public venues in Alexandria, but it was the same problem." There seemed to be a minimum degree of credibility required and good ideas were just not enough. With that, Mohammed brought the cast together, produced the play and performed in Al-Anfoushey neighbourhood, by the shore. "Although we were looking forward to doing it in wide open space, we were not at all expecting people to react the way they did! It was incredible! Our audience was large, grew by the minute, and was very interactive." Since that experience Mohammed describes having questioned the notion of space. Why did plays have to be in a closed space? If his ideas had been indirectly censored, by not having access to mainstream performance venues, how many other such ideas had been kept away from the public, and how much of the public had actually been censored from these ideas. Since then, numerous plays have been performed in the most "unlikely" of places. "At first we tried to get a permit to perform on the streets. we were transferred from one bureaucratic office to another, and at the end I was told my permit was to come from El-Mukhabaraat (State Security). at which point we realised it was impossible. All the spaces we choose are public anyway, so it made sense that obtaining a permit was so impossible ." Haala have continued to prefer open, public spaces to closed theatres ever since. They have participated in events and competitions, for example, but always outside the venue where the event is taking place. The opera has also become a favourite place for performances, but always in the open spaces near the Hanager Theatre. "They keep trying to get us to perform inside, but that's not where our performances belong." Mohammed and the group went on to describe their favourite performances; to the individuals, couples and families sitting or strolling on the 6th of October Bridge, to people who lived on roof tops, and a particular favourite, to children of the streets of Imbaba. The performance with the children was one of "Oozo al-Lazeez", about a magical, invisible substance that can be made of anything, and can be made into anything one desires. The children had gotten so excited about the idea they kept singing and acting along, living the imaginary situation and extending the dimensions of the play. Other interesting performances include "Kastour: Al-Ghuna bel kessaa al-sha'bey", kastour being a fabric of which uniforms were made under the socialist regime and cheaply sold or distributed as a way of making basic needs affordable to all. In these performances the actors all dress in pyjamas made of kastour, and march barefoot through the streets, and sing songs of Sayed Darwish and 'Adaweyya. Darwish, a poet and songwriter, introduced the idea of theatre and story to nationalist songs, particularly popular during the early 1900s and the 1919 movement. 'Adaweyya, on the other hand, is a contemporary popular or "sha'bey " singer of the 1970s and 1980s. Between them, the fabric of popular or collective memory stretches to include most generations. Thus, even when the audience is not singing along, the performances draw on events that most can recall or relate to. This performance verges on political. " Dostur", another performance of a clear political verve, was created during a controversial constitutional amendment. It tackles the question of how "an article of law" is "created". In it, a scientist -- read politician -- cautiously ventures to "create" articles, in a volatile chemical laboratory. Such a plot performed in public creates a space where it is safe for spectator and audience alike to contemplate such issues. How, indeed, is an article produced; what is a constitution about, and what or who should it represent? Though the plays touch upon political issues, Mohammed asserts: "Our commitment is first and foremost to theatre E we are not political activists, we are artists. But at the same time, art reflects life, it reflects the spirit of the individual and society, and neither are free of political realities." Art, I might add, is also about dignity, and dignity requires a daring imagination. The beauty of street art is that it creates a space, a social and imaginary landscape, where the real is put on hold and possibilities transcend permits and closed venues. It is nostalgic of or vaguely familiar to the forms of theatre hosted in Cairo and Alexandria in the mid-1800s where there was much pressure and emphasis on popular and widely accessible art. Theatres, much like coffeehouses, became pockets of cultural and political energy, incubators to popular social movements and eventually a threat to social and political orders, leading to their censorship and control. Haala's work seems reminiscent of the magic of popular theatre, whilst extending beyond the limiting parameters that any closed space imposes. To them, the streets are the ideal stage. What better space to recreate reality than that where reality unfolds day after day? What better, more convincing way to indicate that social alternatives are possible than to actually engage with social spaces and realities, alternatively? Theirs is a true testament that these streets are ours. Not a mere retrieval of physical spaces once deemed inaccessible or off- limits, but the expansion of those spaces and the retrieval of a key controlled and delimited space: individual and collective imagination. In solidarity with the people of Gaza, the New Space of the Townhouse Gallery will host a fundraising event gathering 14 new musical and theatrical groups, including Haala, El Tamye, Ana Masry, Wust El Balad, Masar Egbarey, and others, 23-25 January. An exhibition by 55 artists will run parallel to the event, and all proceeds will go to aid for Gaza. * The writer is a PhD student at the London School of Economics and Political Science
