Sanaa Malik is humming while she makes her way through her work sorting the piles of garbage that line the dirt pathway leading to her apartment building. She is one of the 50,000 or so zabbaleen (trash collectors) who live in the sprawling Garbage City neighborhood under the Moqattam Cliffs on the edge of Cairo. In the lap of her floral-print abaya, with her bare hands, Sanaa, 34, deftly separates plastic, glass, metal, and paper waste from fruit and vegetable peels and other food scraps to be fed to the variety of livestock her family raises on the roof of a shorter, adjoining building. Her 11-year-old daughter Heidi is sorting at her side but then stops and leads me up the littered stairwell to the roof in order to gleefully reveal a secret: their animal farm even includes pigs, prohibited by law since the government slaughtered most of them in order to clean up the area under the pretense of the H1N1 virus scare in 2009.

Sanaa’s husband, Antar, 39, comes home from work (he’s a treasurer at a local environmental group), having bought enough pork, beef, and eggs to feed 18 relatives after Midnight Mass. It’s a big event, not least because Copts—the Orthodox Christians who say they make up some 10 percent of Egyptians—have been on a strict Lenten diet (vegan except for fish) for the past 43 days. Christians elsewhere might recognize a 40-day diet that corresponds with the 40 days Moses fasted before receiving the Ten Commandments. But Copts add three extra days to commemorate the 10th century miracle in which Saint Simon the Tanner lifted the mountain the zabbaleen live on as a test of faith.Garbage City is the kidney of Cairo, a vital organ with a dirty job: clean, sort, and repurpose the dregs of the city. So you might expect a fair share of misery here. But not so, especially not today. Because today is Christmas Eve (January 6 by the Orthodox calendar), and almost all of the zabbaleen in this predominately Muslim metropolis are Coptic Christians. After migrating from southern Egypt looking for work, they began pig farming (a trade Muslims steer clear of because pigs are considered unclean in Islam) and initially collected organic waste as fodder before turning to the namesake trade of Garbage City: recycling for profit.

Besides grocery shopping, Antar has been keeping an eye on new clothes for the younger three of his four children. In a community that subsists solely on the principle of recycling, there is at least one new item that enters every young zabbal’s possession each year, in keeping with Coptic tradition: a new outfit to wear to Christmas Mass. Often it’s the only gift their parents can afford, forgoing presents for adult relatives. Money is especially tight this year, Antar says, because of Egypt’s shaky economy.

Sitting in their home, his 15-year-old daughter Irene’s eyes widen in panic when Antar teasingly assures that he has already bought her a dress in the latest fashion. “She will go downtown with her friends and pick out her own tomorrow,” he finally tells me in front of her, and she exhales back into their oversized red and gold jacquard-patterned couch.

A vivid Berber rug covering the spotless white tile floor has replaced a shabbier rug that was there just the day before. Antar explains that he buys a new one every Christmas “because no matter what we do, it’s still hard to keep our home clean.” He waves toward the shoes we removed outside the door. His daughters Irene and Heidi have the same pride in their residence, showing me their decorating skills on their bedroom walls: Rainbow lights draped between cartoon stickers, a Santa mask, nativity scene paintings, and their parents wedding photo.

There is a pride, also, in their livelihood here. Sanaa’s brothers and their fellow zabbaleen—men, women, and children—generate income for themselves by recycling an astonishing 80 percent of the several thousand tons of trash Garbage City takes in each day. That’s a higher rate than even the most formally organized programs in Sweden and Switzerland, whose recycling rates are closer to 50 percent. The zabbaleen’s success is due to their being not only industrious but efficient—forming specialized, family-run mini-enterprises: paper or plastic, tires or rags.

By sunset, Sanaa has joined Antar’s mother and her sister-in-laws in a makeshift open kitchen at the back of the dark, garbage-filled garage. The aromas of garlic tomato sauce (pureed in a blender salvaged from the trash), beef stewing on the rusty stove, and toasted flatbread (all ingredients for fatta) combine to overpower the foul odor just yards away.

With only a couple hours before Mass and several hours before they can break their fasts, the men distract their stomachs with tea and sheesha in the outdoor cafes. Boys play with firecrackers and girls prance around in their new clothes. In Garbage City, the atmosphere is carefree and relaxed.

The mood among Copts in other predominantly Christian areas of Cairo is far more bittersweet, with much handwringing over their future status and safety under Egypt’s Islamist-dominated government.

“There is no spirit of Christmas this year, not even the spirit of revolution that held us together last year,” baker Magdy Yousef said on his way home from picking up his kids at school in Shubra. “The brothers [shorthand for Muslim Brotherhood] stole everything from us.”

Inside a church in El Daher, a woman named Mariam, who was too afraid to give her last name, whispered that she was praying for the same thing for the third year in a row: “Safety in our streets, our houses of worship, and our homes. That goes for all Egyptians, of course, but mostly Copts.”

But here in Garbage City, fear is the last thing on anyone’s mind. You might not envy them living as they do, huddled together beneath this mountain on the edge of Cairo, their homes alongside the garbage that is their livelihood. But there is an enduring strength in the insularity of Garbage City, particularly in hard times. “Copts have been persecuted for centuries,” says Rasheed Ishaaq, a 55-year-old zabbaleen drinking tea with his neighbors in front of his home in Garbage City, swatting the air at the mention of the new constitution. “Nothing will change that anytime soon. We’ve always trusted God to protect us.”

“And at least here, we’ll always have each other,” Rasheed grins and slaps his friend on the back. “And the garbage, of course.”

photo by Yumna Al-Arashi

CAIRO, EGYPT— The area between the Hardee’s and Pizza Hut, on a dark and narrow road off of Tahrir Square, has become known as the “Bermuda Triangle.” This is where women’s bodies seem to disappear into the chaos and anger ripping through protesting crowds.

From above, a mob sexual assault in Tahrir looks like a hurricane, picking up speed and engulfing women in a flash — their screams drowned out amid the roar of protesters’ chants.

On the ground, the damage that’s done in a matter of minutes drags on in slow motion — as familiar faces melt into the melee, leaving victims alone with grasping hands.

The women emerge, “naked, bruised, and traumatized,” as ambulance drivers and paramedics described the four sexually assaulted women they’d seen in Tahrir Square the previous week. While these uniformed men admit that “it’s our duty to help everyone,” they also provide an ever-so-thoughtful solution to lessen the burden on everyone: “Girls shouldn’t be in this crowd with men.”

In a deeply divided Egypt, massive protests by supporters and opponents of President Morsi show no signs of stopping ahead of a constitution referendum scheduled for December 15. There’s lots of time ahead for more potential mob sexual assaults.

Many protesters in Tahrir suspect that mob assaults are carried out by men hired by the government, since both the timing and location of the attacks are usually the same. An upcoming UK Channel 4 Unreported World documentary (airing December 7) features interviews with men who claim to have been paid to attack female protesters. Whether or not this is true, many women have been scared away from the square.

Such harrowing tales fly in the face of Tahrir’s symbolic importance as an equal space for discussion and unity for all Egyptians.

Last Tuesday, the day of a large opposition rally, the thought of women having to choose between staying home or being targeted for rape during crucial protests was one that Salma Badawi* could not bear.

“I was furious that simply because I’m a woman,” Salma explains, “I have to adjust my appearance or behavior just to be able to freely express my political views in public.”

Plain and simple, she wanted direct, immediate action for the security (or lack thereof) of female protestors. And she meant business: On Wednesday, Salma paid nearly 5000LE Egyptian pounds (over $800 USD) out of her own pocket for 200 vests and helmets. She was anticipating violence.

“Mob assaults in Tahrir are an entirely different beast than everyday harassment outside. They need to be tackled head on, right now,” says the 29-year-old human resources manager.

In the interest of preserving the integrity of Tahrir Square at the heart of an ongoing revolution, a few civilian groups have emerged to protect female protesters. However, given their limited resources, they have been largely ineffective against combating mob assaults. Counter-protests may be one thing, but “counter-mobs” are much more difficult to assemble.

“One of the beautiful things about Tahrir Square is that even if you’re there alone, you never really feel alone,” says Salma. A strong sense of solidarity comes across both within the square and online, even in its most tense moments.

“You can connect with thousands of helpful people in the square through Twitter,” she says. At its peak, up to 500 people are using Twitter during a protest in Tahrir, according to independent research by business owner Hany Rasmy.

So when Salma felt at her most vulnerable last Tuesday, preparing for a battle of defense against swarms of men at a protest, she rallied the Twitter troops.

Inspired by Tahrir Supplies, an altruistic Twitter account used to coordinate emergency relief efforts in Tahrir and across Egypt, Salma founded Tahrir Bodyguard to immediately get boots on the ground to deter and intervene in mob assaults and other forms of harassment in Tahrir.

The idea is purely pragmatic. Witnesses powerless to intervene against the horde in a mob sexual assault can tweet the location to @TahrirBodyguard, which immediately dispatches several uniformed volunteers to respond. It also alerts women to stay away from the area. Within hours of its creation, the account received hundreds of enthusiastic messages of support from both men and women, as well as some reports of assault.

Photo by Yumna Al-Arashi.

Last Friday, over 300 men and women volunteers donned the reflective neon safety vests, helmets, and T-shirts proclaiming Tahrir a “safe square for all.” They stood at every checkpoint, atop watchtowers, and in the crowd. Members of another new group, Operation Anti-Sexual Harassment, passed out hotline numbers and instructions on handling rape trauma victims. A 22-year-old named Yasmine Abdelhamid said it was the first time since the uprising that she felt it was safe for her to protest in Tahrir Square again.

Tahrir Bodyguard says that compared to Tuesday, there was a significant drop in harassment reported to their Twitter account during Friday’s demonstration. Throughout the day, the organization was able to intervene — and pinpoint a new hotspot for mob assaults.

“We successfully stopped three group sexual attacks back to back by the Mugamma metro exit around 9 p.m. on Friday night,” says 25-year-old Tahrir Bodyguard Omar Magdy, who himself was beaten while trying to rescue four severely abused female friends he was with in a separate assault on Tuesday night. “Thank God I have a helmet as a Tahrir Bodyguard, otherwise it’s very difficult to extract the girl.” In the process of trying to reach a girl that’s being sexually assaulted, Tahrir Bodyguards have been punched, kicked, had an iPhone stolen, and even been stabbed.

Nor is it a solution at all for the patriarchy deeply ingrained in the mindset of many Egyptians.

Mob sexual assaults occur so often outside the doors of the Hardees in Tahrir Square that the fast food restaurant has become a makeshift safe house for women: employees are well-practiced emergency aid providers. However, young trainee Mohamed doesn’t have much sympathy to offer. “They were wearing provocative clothes,” he says, even though there have been multiple cases of sexual assaults on veiled women, right outside his workplace.

Mohamed’s view is all too common in Egypt and, unsurprisingly, aided by institutionalized attitudes towards sexual harassment. The laws governing sexual harassment are weak and there is even weaker enforcement by officers who hold passive attitudes toward harassment or are perpetrators themselves. Much like with everything else the government has failed to provide its people, civilian groups are leading the charge to help the problem, as it happens, with their limited resources.

A 2010 Population Council survey of Egypt showed that nearly 80 percent of males and 73 percent of females aged between 15-29 believe women deserve to be harassed based on their clothing. However, there are indicators that this doesn’t boil down to what women are — and aren’t — wearing: according to a 2008 survey conducted by the Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights, roughly 72 percent of harassed women are veiled in some form. That same study found that 62 percent of Egyptian men admitted to harassing women.

But what would happen if a bystander is confronted with a woman being harassed? Based on a 2010 survey conducted by Egypt’s United Nations Population Fund, there are many men that wouldn’t do anything about it. Of the survey’s affluent, largely male respondents, 72 percent favored laws against sexual harassment, but nearly 40 percent said they would not do anything to stop it if they witnessed it — reflecting the obstinacy of society’s passiveness towards harassment.

It will take a long time to break down such views, but citizens are taking it upon themselves to respond to emerging developments that the government has long-ignored.

Anti-harassment initiatives like HarassMap, best known for its online crowd-sourced map tracking sexual harassment incidents across Egypt, have done important outreach work within several communities aimed at ending Egyptian society’s tolerance of sexual harassment.

Until last Friday, Nora Soliman had avoided Tahrir after being mob assaulted there last year. This time, she was armed with mace. When a man walking by and grabbed her friend’s crotch, her friend instinctively punched him while Nora maced him.

“It’s great to have the support of men, but it’s also important for women to do whatever they can to defend themselves if possible,” says Nora. “The women watching applauded us, and I think they felt empowered by seeing us retaliate. The men also seemed to see us in a new light.”

*Name changed per request for anonymity.

Egypt’s public hospital doctors went on strike across the nation for over 2 months, with healthcare professionals and political activists escalating their protests in downtown Cairo. Watch: “Egypt’s doctors strike for more funding” 

(photo credit: Mosa’ab Elshamy)

The call to prayer at sunset bursts into Somaya’s Kitchen, a one-woman, hole-in-the-wall-of-a-downtown-alley restaurant, as the feisty Somaya herself swings open its green doors covered in anti-military stickers.

Revolution-inspired art and photographs of early 1900s Cairo overlook political activists nestled between patchwork folk art cushions at three tiny, brightly painted tables, where passionate political debate is standard fare. Today’s table topics: Egypt’s constitution-to-be, a proposed restaurant and shop curfew, the need for interior ministry reform. The U.S. presidential election? Not on the menu.

“We’ve got more than enough to worry about with Morsi,” the 42-year-old Somaya says, roughly chopping a bundle of molokheya, bitter greens common in the Egyptian kitchen. “I didn’t even know about the U.S. election, and I don’t care. Whoever wins won’t make a difference to us.”

Dinner is served: rice with golden vermicelli, green bean stew, and roast chicken. No special today.

***

Arabic-language news of the U.S. election blares from a small TV in an electronics shop in Tahrir Square. 24-year-old Waleed has witnessed his share of Egyptian political instability from the window of this shop, and experienced plenty of financial flux as a result of it.

“Romney is unknown, too risky for the Middle East. He seemed excited to go to war with Iran in the debate,” he says. “With Obama we know what we’re getting—no change—and that’s exactly what we need right now.”

***

A mass of bodies and vehicles continues seeping into downtown from seemingly out of nowhere, flooding streets and alleys during the after-work rush hours (yes, plural). Many of those bodies end up in a hodgepodge of colorful plastic chairs in Borsa, the alleys around Egypt’s stock exchange, smoking sheesha and playing backgammon.

“We won’t care until America shows interest in Egyptian people, not politics,” 31-year-old professor Mona says, cupping her Nescafe with both hands for warmth as the night cools. “What happened to Obama’s 2009 promise of “dialogue” between the Middle East and West? I’m not seeing that exchange program on the ground.”

Along with the requisite football matches, breaking political news on Borsa’s flatscreens has arrested the attention of hundreds gathered here over the last few years.

Tonight, no one looks up as an aging bellydancer sways mournfully on screen.

The international circus came to town last weekend, featuring an act that hopes to do more than entertain. But Egyptian authorities made it difficult for the Dutch Rebel Clown Army to teach protesters some seriously silly new tricks. Watch: “Dutch Rebel Clown Army in Egypt”

My piece on Islamophobia in American politics after the Sikh temple shooting went viral because it raised an issue that went ignored by the media coverage of this tragedy. It inspired the newly launched Huffington Post Live, who thought it was worth exploring more in-depth in a segment of its own. HuffPoLive asked me to join others in a live online discussion of politicians’ accountability in the rash of hate crimes across America in the past week. It was great to get out points that I left out of my article, but as always, there wasn’t enough time to touch on everything!

I went to the India-Pakistan border closing ceremony–but I couldn’t decide whether to shout “Vande mataram!” or “Pakistan Zindabad!” So instead, I shouted “Balle balle!” & broke out the bhangra with the rest of the revelers in the middle of the street.

I describe the ceremony in words & pictures as best as I can below, but you really must watch it in person, or at the very least, on video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZ0ue-XGl9c

Being a semi-ambiguous looking racial minority in America (as I’ve been told by many who have guessed my ethnicity to be anywhere from African to Brazilian), I’m constantly being asked, “What are you?”

Well, for one, I’m a human being, not an object; and two, what’s it to you?

If you really must know, I suggest employing proper grammar and sensitivity and rephrasing the question to “What’s your ethnicity?” It’s an improvement, but if it’s the first question you ask upon seeing me (even before my name—which has actually happened to me multiple times, believe it or not), I’ll know it’s because you feel the need to fit me neatly into some box so that you will feel more at ease—but that’s a whole different can of worms I’ll post later.

My father is south Indian, and my mother is…complicated. Her dad is a Tamil Indian who went to work in what was formerly known as East Pakistan (present-day Bangladesh), where he married my north Indian-born grandmother who was raised there. Shortly before the India-Pakistan war in 1971, my mom and her parents moved to West Pakistan (present-day Pakistan) to escape the tumult.

Basically, my ancestry is Indian but my parents used to be of different nationalities (now they’re both naturalized US citizens). I have family in both India and Pakistan that I’ve visited multiple times, so I feel some allegiance to both countries.

To keep it simple though, I tell most people who want to know about my heritage that I’m Indian, which sometimes elicits the follow-up question “Red dot or feather?”

Sigh.

Having an Indian father and a Pakistani(-ish) mother made a visit to the border between the two countries seem like a fitting farewell to India at the end of my first backpacking excursion there in the spring of 2010.

The last stop on my tour was in Amritsar, Punjab, home of the Golden Temple, Sikhism’s holiest shrine. Only about 20 miles east, but a world away from the tranquil temple, is the checkpoint of Wagah on the Grand Trunk Road, the only land border crossing between India and Pakistan. Wagah itself is one of the villages through which the British drew the Radcliffe Line in 1947 to partition Muslim Pakistan from secular India, dividing people who had shared centuries of language, food, customs, culture, and even religion. Though there’s no such thing, it’s sometimes referred to as “South Asia’s Berlin Wall” for representing the thick tension between the two governments.

Every evening at sunset since 1959, the Indian Border Security Force (BSF) and the Pakistan Rangers lower their respective flags in an almost theatrical drum-beating retreat ceremony for thousands of rabid partisans on both sides.

The fervent atmosphere is akin to an India versus Pakistan cricket match, with similar clapping and chanting by fanatical crowds: “Vande Mataram!” from the Indians and “Pakistan Zindabad!” from the Pakistanis. Spurred on by an emcee with a microphone and roused by loudspeakers playing patriotic songs that sound like a pre-battle warm-up, each side tries to drown out the other from their amphitheater seats.

Many rush from the stands to dance together between the two gates, Bollywood filmi style, while children on both sides run, waving their country flags, toward the gates.

In spite of all the displays of one-upmanship though, I feel the rivalry is good-natured among the jawans (soldiers) putting on this choreographed show of faux bravado that begins and ends with a handshake. They must have to get along in order to be able to perfectly synchronize such animosity. The BSF in their tan uniforms, and the Rangers in their black shalwar khameez, all of them well-built and at least six-and-a-half-feet tall, only look like fighting cocks with the fan-shaped crests on their turbans. I’m sure they’re smiling somewhere under their gigantic handlebar mustaches (plus beards for the Pakistanis).

A horn blares, to silence the throngs on either side, though I’ll shamefacedly admit those of us on the Indian side are considerably more rambunctious. One after another, the jawans goose-step toward each other and their gates from opposite ends, stomping their black boots so high (almost to their foreheads) and so hard that they were recently forced to tone it down, though due to joint damage in their knees, not for diplomatic reasons. I feel like I’m watching the The Nutcracker Ballet’s toy soldiers on Jessie Spano’s “caffeine pills.”

Once they are glaring at each other face to face in the middle (timed with military precision to coincide with sundown), the BSF and the Rangers salute each other, the gates swing open, and both India and Pakistan’s flags are respectfully lowered from opposing ends at the same time, crossing each other to create the silhouette of a perfectly symmetrical “X” in front of the setting sun.

Then the flags are folded, the gates slammed shut, a horn sounds, and the soldiers take quick but long strides to march the flags back to their respective sides.

Though their governments’ relationship might be strained, and some have left Wagah with a bad taste in their mouths at what they perceived to be “jingoism,” all I witnessed was a good-natured release of tension by brothers and sisters who are separated not by time, war, politics, or propaganda–only a line.

Soldiers and revelers face off at the line one more time every year. At midnight between August 14th & 15th, Pakistan and India’s respective Independence Days, they embrace each other with sweets and candles in hand for a vigil of peace.

I really don’t think it matters which side of the line I’m on.

Click here for more of my Wagah photos.

Published in Huffington Post: “Why American Politicians Should Take Islamophobia Seriously: One Week In Brown America”

Click here for more of my Golden Temple photos.

My baby sister wonders if she will have to wear a bulletproof vest during Eid prayers.

If this isn’t terrorism, then I don’t know what is.

A week ago, a hate-fueled mass shooting by a domestic terrorist left six Sikhs dead in their own house of worship in Oak Creek, Wisconsin. Yet the media still refuses to call the mass shooting of Sikhs “terrorism,” let alone call the shooter a “terrorist.”

Neither President Obama nor First Lady Michelle Obama has visited families of the victims or the injured in the hospital as they did two days after the mass shooting in Aurora, Colorado on July 20.

A week has gone by since Oak Creek’s shooting, and there has been barely a word from either candidate after their initial statements. To add insult to injury, Michelle visited Aurora just this weekend, while the Oak Creek victims’ blood is still fresh.

On Sunday, Obama was in Chicago while Romney was in his running mate Representative Paul Ryan’s hometown of Janesville, Wisconsin—both cities an equidistant 90 minute drive to Oak Creek. Yet neither politician visited.

The swing state of Wisconsin is a political minefield for both candidates, but as the son of the murdered Sikh temple president says, politics should be set aside for humanity when it comes to a national tragedy.

And yes, it’s a national tragedy.

Each day that our elected leaders remain silent about Oak Creek, a very loud message is sent across America about how seriously they take Islamophobia and xenophobia. And each day, another, even louder message from hateful people is sent.

Last Sunday, the same day of the temple murders, the sign for a mosque in Rhode Island was smashed with hammers.

The following day, Monday, a mosque in Missouri was destroyed in the second fire this summer.

On Tuesday, pig legs were thrown at a mosque in California while people prayed there.

On Thursday, Representative Joe Walsh, from my home state of Illinois, accused Americans, who happen to be Muslim, of plotting murder against their fellow citizens in suburban Chicago. And that too, in response to an Egyptian-American’s own urging to crack down on Islam.

Nevermind that Muslims in America are Americans—is Representative Walsh sure it’s not the other way around? If applying his logic to the past week, white Americans are the ones trying to kill Muslims. And each day that Obama and Romney remain silent about Oak Creek, it continues.

On Friday, no less than 36 hours after Walsh’s incitement in suburban Chicago, while 500 people prayed inside and many children played outside, a white man fired shots at the suburban Chicago mosque I frequented as a kid.

In the early hours of Sunday morning, paintballs were fired at a mosque in Oklahoma.

Later on Sunday night, a bottle of acid was thrown at an Islamic school and mosque during evening prayers.

The media needs to take Islamophobia in America seriously by reporting on it in the context of a pattern, not minor, isolated incidents. We need the media to go a step further and do its job of facilitating healthy national discourse.

But more importantly, if politicians like Obama and Romney truly hope to lead our country to a better future, they should speak up—not to ingratiate themselves with Muslims by hosting iftar dinners at the White House—but to make the voices of solidarity and peace louder than the anti-Muslim incitement of their hatemongering colleagues Representatives Joe Walsh, Peter King, Michelle Bachmann, etc.

Rep. Walsh refuses to apologize and “bow down to political correctness.”

This isn’t about “political correctness” and it doesn’t affect only one community of Americans. This is about a widespread hate that endangers the very fabric of American society.

This isn’t just about Islamophobia. This is about an atmosphere that condescends the undoubted brownness of this country.

This isn’t just close to home. Thisishome.

And the longer Obama and Romney stay silent, the longer this week will get.

"Give me your hair & I will spare you your life," the Emperor roared. "And I owe you for your mercy, along with it...my head." the proud Sikh replied. ~Tagore

The beauty of the Sikh faith and the heroic sacrifice of warrior Bhai Taru Singh very much inspired the great Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore. Click here to read more.

Below, some photos from my visit to the Sikh Golden Temple in Amritsar, Punjab, India in April 2010. Click here to see more.

CAIRO — The Muslim Brotherhood has defiantly rejected attempts by the ruling military council (SCAF) to hold on to power as parliament speaker Saad El-Katanti announced the governing body would convene as scheduled on Tuesday despite attempts to dissolve it.

The military has ordered all parliament doors locked and has stationed troops around the entire premises to bar entrance, thus setting the stage for an aggressive confrontation. Some elected lawmakers have threatened to hold a sit-in protest at Tahrir Square.

The Brotherhood’s newfound power won through an elective process was summarily stripped away when the Supreme Constitutional Court ruled that last spring’s election was unconstitutional and ordered the parliament to be dissolved, a move which many Egyptians are calling a “coup.”

Egyptian analyst Bassem Sabry told The Media Line that there may be a better alternative for the Muslim Brotherhood to fight the dissolution of the troubled parliament, rather than taking to the streets in protest.

“Given how unpopular this parliament became after it was elected, the best course of action is to call for a referendum,” advises Sabry.

Just minutes after runoff voting concluded in Egypt’s first competitive presidential elections Sunday night, the country’s ruling military council issued an interim constitution undermining the presidency and granting itself broad powers over the new government’s legislation, national budget and military affairs: all without any oversight.

The military’s latest in a series of bold assertions of its power comes just days before it is scheduled to finally transfer authority to civilian rule when the president-elect takes office on June 30, after months of promises to do so.

Muslim Brotherhood candidate Dr. Mohamed Mursi claimed victory over Ahmed Shafiq, ousted president Hosni Mubarak’s confidant and last prime minister, early Monday morning after unofficial vote counting showed he won around 52 percent of the vote, with about 97 percent of polling stations reporting. The initial estimated voter turnout was not higher than the first round’s 46 percent.

At Mursi’s campaign headquarters, the candidate thanked God, his supporters, and all Egyptians, giving special words of appreciation to women and the Christian minority, two groups that fear their rights might be suppressed under the governance of an Islamist.

Mursi promised all Egyptians a “civil, democratic, constitutional and modern state,” with no mention of Islamic law. “No one’s rights will be left out of it, and no one will dominate over the other,” he told them.

As soon as Mursi finished speaking, the room full of Brotherhood members erupted with chants of “Down with military rule!,” reflecting a continuation of the great power struggle over Egypt.

At the present time, the Egyptian revolution has reached a critical stage. Muslim Brotherhood supporters and others have announced they were mobilizing protests and were gathering at Tahrir Square to try and save the revolution and prevent SCAF from holding on to power.

Egyptian photographer and political commentator Mosa’ab Elshamy said Mursi’s win would give the Brotherhood the legitimacy to possibly save the parliament, or at the very least, an awareness and renewed vigor in the fight against SCAF’s sweeping power grabs.

“If they lose parliament for good but win the presidency, they risk losing power there as well if they don’t learn their lessons from this disbanded parliament’s mistakes,” Elshamy told The Media Line.

But the Brotherhood may be too busy celebrating a historic moment for the organization after 84 years of persecution to think clearly about the long battle ahead for Egypt.

At dawn, the cheering crowd outside Mursi’s headquarters — around the corner from the Interior Ministry, infamous for arresting and torturing Brotherhood members for decades — headed to join other revelers in Tahrir Square.

Elshamy, who voted for Mursi as a vote against Shafiq, hopes the Brotherhood “doesn’t wake up with a hangover” and will realize the “mess” Egypt is in, excluding the one SCAF just created.

“The ‘deep state’ has had a lot of problems for a long time, and a Brotherhood presidency alone is not going to have the power to demilitarize it anytime soon,” he said. “Only if the Brotherhood leverages their legitimacy, they could do it politically, coupled with street action in a long term battle.”

The Muslim Brotherhood will find support on the streets more difficult to muster after its parliament’s failures have divided the country, but Elshamy believes that SCAF’s power grabs have galvanized the Brotherhood to do more to demilitarize the state.

Meanwhile Shafiq’s campaign is contesting the results, accusing the Brotherhood of cheating. Egypt’s presidential elections committee will announce official results on Thursday. But by then Egypt’s fight for democracy could re-erupt where it all started; at Tahrir Square.