REVO! (the rabbit)

The first news of the protests in Cairo began to trickle through to Siwa at the beginning of the trouble. The mood in Siwa was tentative but business resumed as normal. Those who owned televisions filtered though bit by bit snippets of the events that were unfolding. 

The death toll mounted and communications were severed with the outside world. The Siwans don't tend to consider themselves "Egyptian" as such. For one, Siwa is closer to Libya than Cairo and the majority of the population in Mersa Matrouh and Siwa are predominantly Bedouin or descendants from Berbers. However, all eyes and ears were open to hear of developments in Cairo and Alexandria as inevitably there would be repercussions felt here at some point. 

The Sheiks of Siwa have taken control and organised patrols in an attempt to safeguard the people and the remainng tourists who have managed to get themselves stranded here. It remains a very tribal area and in Siwa it is clear that the people here are different. Everyone looks after one another, cafes have started to provide free soups and the little supplies they have to marooned visitors unable to withdraw any money or take a bus out of the town. 

Wednesday afternoon Penny came into the shop looking, quite frankly Aghast. She then proceeded to relay to me that the town of Matrouh had been looted. all the shops were empty and not only that, our very special and sacred booze shop had been ransacked also. It gets worse. Not only did they loot the booze shop, they used the alcohol to make homemade bombs! As my face fell off my head completely I  managed to take on board what was being fed to me. Firstly, I live in the middle of the desert which is dry enough, secondly,  there is a revolution taking place which could possibly last for weeks, months even..and your telling me, the only shop that sells alcohol in a 300km radius has been looted. 

The following day myself and Penny were considering the severity of the booze situation when it dawned on us that the one and possibly only useful thing Siwa has to offer in the way of produce is dates. Dates are abundant here and many people grown them, harvest them sell them and package them out of town...but they are also known to FERMENT THEM INTO YUMMY DATE WINE!!?

So, The internet was down, phones lines were severed, and our alcohol making wits were about us. On the case we harassed Fahmi who told us he had a whole stack of dates he just needed somewhere to make the wine. A night was spent doodling sketches of barrels, pipes and fermenting times. We still need to visit a garden where the professionals make the stuff . This being for a number of reasons really, the first, we'd quite like to remain fully sighted post to the distilling process and second, we don't want to die.

I may have led you a little astray with my talk of wine. This is not wine in the traditional sense. This is what we call here Arak.  I have tasted yummy Arak and I also tasted bad Arak. I have heard stories of Arak makers going blind as well as Arak drinkers go crazy.  For me to describe it as fire water would be the biggest understatement this side of the century. It is however, in a time of crisis, absolutely, unquestionably, a) the only alcohol that will ever touch your lips and b) could possibly be mistaken for the yummiest thing you'll ever drink in your life (depending on your mental state)

There is now no petrol in the petrol station and no Gas in Siwa. No money in the ATM and the veg shop is looking rather depleted.

Time for drastic change. 

As I was cycling home after a wonderful productive morning at school with the guys, I passed the usual butchers ( a cage with 2 live chickens and a rabbit inside) and caught sight of this little bunny sitting in chicken shit looking rather down. Claudia suggested I brought. I chuckled and considered it half heartedly. Ten minutes later I was making 'NOT DEAD' gestures to the boy who worked there as he yanked the poor thing out of the cage by it's ears and started walking in and out of the slaughter room. "Mish- (throat cutting gesture) " I repeated again and again. He understood my crappy arabic and sign language and he was in  fact trying to find me a box in which to put the rabid thing.

I figured we needed a mascot for the Revolution, and the newly appointed Revo the Rabbit would  be it.  I made him a lovely house out of a cardboard box and brought him the only carrots left in Siwa for him to munch on.  He was bony, timid and tired but liked to fall asleep on me whilst I  watched people stoning other people to death on Television.  I wondered whether I had perhaps made a rather rash decision in buying him as I would be leaving the country in a month. Then I figured it would be fine. I would feed his scraggy self up on luscious carrots and lettuces and then when the time came for me to leave I'd give him to a Siwan family as a parting gift.  By this time he would be all fat, yummy and appreciated.

Day two of life with Revo and I'm begining to think I have created a monster. Either that or there is definitely something in the greens here.

This evening, after munching though a whole carrot and a lettuce leaf the size of his whole body he proceeded to hop excitedly about the place, munching on every bit of wooden furniture I have. He looks like he may be on crack. Crack carrots possibly. Occasionally he loll-ups up to me, a deranged twinkle in his eye and then darts off again, probably to take a crap under my bed or something equally gross.

Anyway, I love my little bunny wabbit and for now, however mental he might be, he's very soft and cuddly and doesn't make a sound. He will sleep on my balcony for the time being and run about like a deranged psychopath in the apartment in the evening. He will without a doubt have a prolonged and happier life than if he were still sitting in shit in the butchers cage or in the gut of some overweight tourist.

But all good things come to an end and Revo will inevitably become a martr of the peoples revolution in Egypt ( not out of choice )  He represents any trace of innocence and equality that still exist in this illiberal country. How can a man take money from a corrupt dictator to ride a camel through a crowd of praying Muslims, beating and trampling them to death?

I have just given Revo another carrot which he is devouring like it's his last day on earth. I've told him otherwise but he clearly doesn't believe me. I think my mum could make a fair comparison between his eating habits and mine when I was younger. This worries me slightly.

Must sign off, my bunny is eating my trouser leg and looks like he might throw up.

I have resumed my place at the keyboard as something rather gross/hilarious (had there been someone else in the room ) has just occurred.

After chasing Revo around the apartment for the best part of 15 minutes, I manage to capture him, only for him to then take the biggest piss I've ever seen come out of a rabbit's winky ever, all over me and the floor. I am now covered in rabbit urine and will have to wash the patch of the carpet over which I held him in a manner not dissimilar to that of suspending a small child over an imaginary toilet on a grass verge.

I'm wee-ly glad I have a wevolution wabbit. 

not.

P.S I love him really.