On 30 April 1966, Salah Hussein was shot dead in his village, Kamshish, located in Menoufiya Governorate in the heart of the Nile Delta. An educated son of the village, he engaged in leftist politics and in nationalist anti-colonial struggles pre-1952. He later switched the focus of his activity against a family of landlords that had long subjected the village to a rule of terror and oppression. He led a peasant struggle against the landlords and exposed their tricks in evading the agrarian reform law, and was finally assassinated. He was survived by his widow Shahenda Maklad, who was barely 27 when he was killed. Shahenda became a local and national leader defending peasants’ rights and other grassroots causes. She is a member of the Tagamu‘ leftist party, the founder of the independent Peasants Union, and most recently the leader of the ‘Women for Change’ group, apart from being a national icon of resistance. Kamshish became a symbol of peasants’ struggle against oppression, and also a source of guidance and inspiration for other villages. April 30th became a date for not only commemorating Hussein's anniversary, but for holding a yearly convention in Kamshish where activists from various walks of the political scene gather to discuss both peasant-related issues and national-level current political matters. This year, the village commemorated the forty-fourth anniversary of Hussein with a convention whose slogan was ‘Peasants and Change’.
This year's anniversary was held against a backdrop of a highly charged political scene in Egypt. For almost a decade, the country has been witnessing waves of political protests and an increasingly intensifying mood of discontent. Demonstrations, protest activity and strikes dominated the country. Such activities included labour and peasant protests on an unprecedented scale, and extended to cover sectors that traditionally seldom engaged in protest activity such as professionals and government employees. Such activities were mainly triggered by economic demands, yet their scale and impact were of clear political significance. The atmosphere was further charged with the arrival on the scene of Mohamed el-Baradei, former chief of the International Atomic Energy Agency and now a campaigner for constitutional reform and a main opponent of the Mubarak regime. His slogan of ‘Change’ proved catchy, and served as a point of focus for various social and political forces.
Within this background, Kamshish held the anniversary of its martyr. With a huge attendance and with the participation of representatives of all significant political groups, Kamshish continues to prove its relevance, and to play its role as a link between peasants’ concerns on the one hand and the wider political scene on the other.
The following interview was conducted by Reem Saad and Yasmine Ahmed with Shahenda Maklad on 3 June 2010 in Cairo, Egypt, in connection with the project ‘Poverty dynamics, access to resources and social change in rural MENA [Middle East and North Africa]: a gendered approach.’
Interview
Reem Saad (RS): So, tell us the story of Kamshish and its significance in the farmers' struggle in Egypt. You could use 30 April 1966 as an entry point.
Shahenda Maklad (SM): On 30 April 1966, martyr Salah Hussein was assassinated by the feudalists. His funeral was transformed into a demonstration that called for a trial against feudalists. In the following years, April 30th became a day of remembrance and commemoration, where Kamshish farmers and activists meet and discuss pertinent farmers' issues in Egypt, as well as drafting an agenda for action.
RS: Who is Salah Hussein?
SM: Salah Hussein is my husband. We got married in 1957. He was the local leader for farmers’ struggle in Kamshish, and led them through various battles against feudalism. Kamshish is a village dating back to the times of the pharaohs, and you can find this in reference books. It has a land area of around 2000 feddans.1
Historically, Kamshish had small land ownerships, and consisted of small and medium farmers' households. It was relatively recently that Kamshish saw large ownerships and witnessed the emergence of feudalism. One of Kamshish's men betrayed the 'Orabi Revolution in the late nineteenth century, which resulted in his moving from being a small farmer to a large landlord, seizing lands and forcing people to give their lands away, including members of his own family.2 And this was when farmers' struggle and resistance started to emerge in Kamshish.
In 1951, martyr Salah Hussein, my husband, and one of the village sons, joined armed resistance groups against the British in the Suez Canal area. There, he met with Wasseem Khaled and Hussein Tawfiq, an armed resistance group that was involved in the assassination of Amin Osman.3
Together with his fellows, Salah Hussein decided to fight feudalism in Kamshish, with the belief that the first step towards the liberation of Palestine is to liberate Egypt and to get rid of feudalism first. Between 1951 and 1952, they made a plan of how to achieve their goal in Kamshish. Armed resistance was common at the time. So, the first step was to form an armed resistance group from the village, and for this, they needed to recruit people. Salah and his fellows started to carry out small tests, through which they could identify potential fellows for their resistance plan. The first thing they did was to ask school pupils to take off the hats that were imposed on them by the feudalist, and to pray by the side of, rather than behind, the feudalist.4 It was through these small acts of rebellion that Salah and his fellows were able to form a small group of activists, who were commonly called in the village ‘al-talaba’ or the students.
As the revolution took place in 1952, the idea of armed resistance became irrelevant; however, the political cause itself remained active.
Just before the passing of the 1952 agrarian reform law, Salah Hussein started using mosques, wedding ceremonies and funerals as occasions to call people to claim their rights, their land, to refuse obedience, and to end existing inequities and inequalities. New forms of passive resistance emerged. Kamshish farmers started to respond to Hussein by disobeying the feudalist; they refused to work as corvée labour, to which they had been subjected for a long time. This was followed by a series of small battles. One of the things they did, for example, was to sabotage a canal route dug by the feudalist in the middle of their lands to ensure that his land was well irrigated. The feudalists knew, so they shot at the farmers, injuring 17 of them, and of course, the canal route remained in the middle of the lands. After this event, the feudalist remained in power, and nothing has changed, so Kamshish people felt that the revolution did not help them in any way. Salah and his fellows knew that they had to introduce the taste of victory among Kamshish people. So they decided to break a dam built by the feudalist that ensured that his land was irrigated before the Kamshish farmers. They went armed and broke the dam, and when the feudalist came to check what was going on, they pointed the weapons at him, so he got scared and left. This incident stimulated resistance among Kamshish people.
To counter the farmers' resistance, the feudalist recruited outlaws to threaten the farmers; they were armed and used to stand in the middle of the road to control Kamshish streets and to threaten its people.
One day, Kamshish people decided to get rid of the outlaws, so they left them shooting until they felt that they ran out of bullets, and then all the village attacked them, killing all four of them. That was in 1953. As a result, a curfew was imposed on the village, and Salah was banned from travelling outside Alexandria Governorate.
So Anwar El Sadat came to try to bring about a reconciliation between the Kamshish people and the al-Fekky family. At the time, he was a member of the Revolutionary Council. He made several attempts to reconcile both parties, but it did not work out. There was a split in the village between those who wanted reconciliation, and those who did not. Sadat went to the village, and met with Kamshish representatives and al-Fekky. He tried to talk to witnesses in Kamshish, but couldn't find any, so he got upset and threw 25 farmers in prison, believing that this would get rid of a ‘deviant’ minority. He went to the house of Sheikh al-Balad [a local leader], and when Kamshish people knew that he was there, they held a demonstration, and burned the house where he was staying. So he realised that reconciliation had not been achieved.
So my father stepped in.5 At the time, he was the chief of police in Beni Soueif. He called Sadat, and asked him to release the prisoners. So they both went to Kamshish, and Sadat gave a speech and promised to release the prisoners.
A series of fights then began, all about land. The 1952 first agrarian reform law was not implemented in Kamshish because the feudalists managed to evade the expropriation of their land. Al-Fekki had seized people's lands, however, on paper, the lands were registered under the name of small farmers, so that they could not claim for lands that, according to the papers, they already held. Only 50 feddans were distributed to the farmers. So we had to fight for the lands. In 1958 I ran for a seat in the local council, and I won. So I and other local leaders in the village became involved with the Committee to take the seized lands back. We did field visits to verify land ownership. This was a big fight; [the Al-Fekkis] were giving bribes and we were sending telegraphs to Gamal Abdel Nasser. This fight lasted from 1958 to 1962. So after the separation of Egypt and Syria, Nasser started to pay more attention to our cause. The lands were sequestrated, and then distributed to 199 beneficiaries. We followed our own rules in land distribution and not the Committee's; we established a local committee whose members were knowledgeable about the real situation, like who actually worked on the land, who had six children and who did not, and so forth.
Then we started to discuss the issue of access to land and poverty. The question was: ‘Did we solve the problem of poverty by gaining accessing to the land?’ The answer was no. So we thought of developing the movement by investing in new crops, and it was then that the idea of establishing a cooperative began, meaning that we would cultivate the land together. People started to join the cooperative, and a developed political mobilisation movement emerged in the village. We wanted to transform the feudalists’ houses and lands into service centres for the village, and this was a step further in the movement. So [the Al-Fekkis] found no alternative but to kill Salah. They made several attempts, and eventually killed him on 30 April 1966. I often say that before Salah's killing, our enemies were Kamshish feudalists, and after Salah's killing, our enemies became all the feudalists who escaped the agrarian reform. That's why the campaign against us was intensified later on. In 1967, many people were arrested, that's why we didn't commemorate the anniversary that year.
We did the first commemoration for Salah on 30 April 1968. Everybody came to Kamshish; Abdel Rahman al-Sharkawy, Loutfy al-Khouly, Zaky Mourad, Nabil al-Helaly, Youssef Hegab, al-Abnoudy, members of all social, intellectual and political forces in Egypt. The Kamshish cause started to attract media attention. It became a focal point for activists from all over Egypt. We used to hand-write the invitation, and send it from various post offices across governorates. We did not send all the invitations from one place for fear it would be easily tracked by the government.
I received numerous invitations to speak in different governorates, and the groups of Kamshish supporters became so numerous that the security officers wanted to remove me from Kamshish. The purpose of the commemoration was two-fold – first to talk about problems that farmers face, and, second to solve these problems.
RS: It seems to me that Kamshish has had an impact on the political movement in Egypt. Could you elaborate on that?
SM: This annual event has had a great impact on the student movement in Egypt for example. In fact, a number of Kamshish leaders became leaders in the student movements. Slogans for the Egyptian peasants' movement emerged in Kamshish. It also included a programme for the peasants’ movement and for the political movement; our agenda emerged from the participants, not from our small group.
RS: Can you describe the relationship between the Kamshish people and President Sadat?
SM: We were against Sadat from the beginning. We had a bad history with him despite the fact that some active groups at the time had welcomed him as vice-president. President Sadat tried to silence us, as he did in his ‘corrective movement’ that he led against leftist members who were in power at the time. This was on 15 May 1971.
We were not part of political parties or groups, like the Youth Organisation or the Vanguard Organisation, so he couldn't take us with them. However, he forced us to stay away from our governorate one month later, on 15 June. We were banished.
Police forces attacked Kamshish houses, and arrested the people, arguing that they were hiding illegal weapons in their houses; however, they couldn't find any. They took all the books that were in people's houses, as we used to sell books at reduced prices at the annual event on 30 April. They also took the pictures of Salah that were hanging on the walls of people's houses. At the time, I was in Alexandria, so they couldn't reach me, but they issued a decision that restricted where we lived. They restricted the residency of 12 men and women farmers, and separated partners by residency (that is, issuing an order to employ the woman in one governorate and her husband in another governorate). We were not allowed to enter Menoufeya Governorate, so we filed a suit against the government, and we returned after five years by a court decree.
RS: Can you now tell us about peasant protest movements during Sadat's time?
SM: I first want to tell you about something that happened earlier. When Egypt was defeated in the 1967 war, the reactionary forces blamed socialism for this. In 1968, and in response to such pressures, Nasser ordered the lifting of sequestration6 that had been placed on the property of some of the former feudalists. There was a 40-feddan plot of land in Kamshish that belonged to a member of the feudalist's family. This plot was sequestrated and distributed to 40 previously landless peasants. The land was neglected and barren, but they worked hard until it became productive again. When they got the land they were penniless. We helped them by setting up a cooperative and we raised money to buy an irrigation pump. When the land started producing they started repaying the cost of the pump. Just as the land started being productive and their standard of living started to improve, they discovered that they were going to be evicted. It was then that we started a fight and said that no one had the right to trespass on the peasants’ gains. But we wanted this to be their decision, not ours.
We first complained to the members of the Socialist Union, but they did nothing. Then we decided to go to Cairo and we asked for the help of lawyers. In short, we exhausted all legitimate and peaceful avenues, but to no avail. A court order ruled that the peasants would be evicted. A force came to the village to carry out the order. They first went to a peasant called Sayed and asked him to sign the eviction order. He then said to them: ‘You want me to leave the land, you sons of dogs?’ And he raised his axe to strike them, and they ran away. It was then that the decision was taken to ‘stand on the land’. We joined the 40 tenants and their families and stood on the land on the day that the force was coming to carry out the evictions. We were about 200 people. It was like a battleground. The only way to get to the land was through a narrow alley inside the village. When the forces tried to go down the alley, the women threw dirty water at them, then they started screaming, then pelted them with rocks. There were armed men, but these were hiding, and were to be a last resort.
Rumours started spreading that we were heavily armed. The officer in charge of the force contacted the Minister of the Interior and told him: ‘If you want me to storm the village, you will have to send me reinforcements.’ At this point, the minister asked him to retreat with his forces. We remained on the land for 15 days. At the same time we were conducting a media campaign. It was due to these events that Nasser ordered that no peasant would be evicted because of the raising of sequestration. The peasants’ status changed to that of tenants, and they were not evicted. This decree benefited peasants on sequestred land all over the country, and this was one example how the struggle of the people of Kamshish had a positive influence on the peasants of Egypt as a whole.
RS: Tell me now about the time when the regime clearly repealed socialist measures, and switched policies to the opposite direction.
SM: Ever since 1968 there had been attempts to repeal the tenancy guarantees that were part of Agrarian Reform Law,7 but we resisted, and these attempts were halted. When Sadat came to power in 1970, this issue re-emerged. At that time I was heading the peasants’ bureau at the Tagamu‘ Party, and this was a crucial issue that we continued to fight against. Tenancy guarantees were much more important than the redistribution part of Agrarian Reform, because they affected the lives of many more people. We continued to resist, but the new law was finally issued in 1992 and it was a real catastrophe. So from 1968 until 1992 this was our main battle, and this issue was always raised in the 30 April convention. It was also a central issue for us since we declared the Peasants’ Union.
RS: When was that?
SM: On 30 April 1983 in Kamshish. Before that I went to villages all over Egypt together with my colleagues, and we introduced the idea and discussed it with villagers from everywhere. In 1983 we declared the Peasants’ Union in the presence of 360 representatives from villages from all over the country. It was one of the most glorious days in the history of Egyptian peasants and of the political movement. The Union then started defending the rights of tenants. We also dealt with other problems, such as resisting the abolition of agricultural cooperatives and their replacement with village banks. Unfortunately we did not receive any support except from the Tagamu‘ Party, and not from any other political force.
RS: Why?
SM: I don't know. We always knew that Egypt means peasants, but for some reason the political activists were never really attracted to the peasant problem.
We were alone also in the period between the issuing of the law in 1992 and its full implementation in 1997. It was only in 1997 that other political forces realised that this is an important battle. It could have been possible to prepare for a big battle but this was not possible by then. The balance of power was not in our favour; the peasants were not ready and a movement did not crystallise; and other political forces were also not strong enough.
We held the 1997 April 30th memorial in Cairo because it is central and would enable people to come from different parts of the country. Thousands attended. The political forces that had had nothing to do with peasants up till then saw this as an opportunity and many imagined they would lead the movement. In my opinion, the actions of these people really aborted the possibility of a big movement. They started pushing peasants into battles before they were ready or organised. Our idea was first to organise people; thousands of people came to Cairo on that day and filled out applications to join the Peasants’ Union. The other forces started working in a chaotic way and many peasants were arrested and many were killed. This had a negative effect on our movement. From 1997, the Union started declining and what was left of it was just a symbolic presence. Also, many people of the founders died before a new generation was ready to take over. After that we started to form new ways of organising. Now the most active of these is the Committee for Defending Agrarian Reform Beneficiaries.
RS: When was this formed?
SM: In 2005.
RS: Tell us about the new development that this Committee came in response to.
SM: After the tenancy law was passed and they got rid of the tenants, we knew that they were now set on getting rid of all small farmers. When they lifted subsidies, abolished facilities for marketing and abolished all forms of cooperatives – all these policies were directed against small farmers. Also after 1997, agrarian reform beneficiaries were especially targeted. A wave started in the late 1990s and continues now, whereby the old owners are using their power to recapture the land from the beneficiaries even though the latter paid all dues. But there are now numerous and increasing cases of old owners colluding with local officials to forge papers and issue eviction orders and, in collusion with local police forces, they get the farmers off the land. In some places there was resistance, but in others the peasants were helpless and the land was taken away.
RS: Now let's move to 30 April of this year, where the title of the meeting was ‘Peasants and Change’.8 Tell us what you think is happening at this present stage.
SM: All things are related. It is not possible to fix one part and leave the rest. You cannot say you want a pro-peasant agrarian policy when you do not have proper industrialisation, nor political rights, nor rights of association. That is why we now say we need change. Change is what will allow social forces to defend their rights. The gains that people obtained in the Nasser era were received as gifts from Nasser: ‘Nasser will give workers their rights’; ‘Nasser will give peasants their rights’; ‘Nasser will distribute the land’. People lived that era only as recipients. That is why when the land was being taken away from them they were incredulous. They were saying: ‘They are the ones who gave us the land, why are they taking it from us now?’ I think that when this happened, peasants realised that they were the ones who had to defend themselves. This realisation is now clear in the protest movements that are taking place everywhere, with workers and peasants and all. I do not see these movements expressing narrow economic demands; I've seen men and women workers speaking with greater political awareness than most political leaders. This is what's new now: people realise that they are the ones who will have to defend themselves and they do this with a realisation that all things are interrelated.
RS: How do you see the present movement for ‘Change’ that is led by el-Baradei? How do you see your role, and the peasants’ role in this movement?
SM: When Baradei first returned to Egypt and there was talk that he would be a presidential candidate, I just observed. Of course he is a respectable man and so on, but I was apprehensive. But when I heard him speak I felt his sincerity, and I was relieved about his approach; that he was not presenting himself as a candidate but was rather proposing that all forces unite to change the rules of the game through a movement for change, starting with demands for constitutional reforms. I felt that this was the right approach, and one that would help bring together the different efforts for change. This approach means that there is a point of consensus for the different political forces, while not infringing on the autonomy of the different groups. Baradei is Baradei, peasants are peasants and workers are workers. But this is a framework that allows us all to work together towards bringing real change to this country.
RS: Did el-Baradei send a statement to the 30 April convention this year?
SM: Yes he did, and he said that he would have attended but was travelling. This was a good thing, and it had a positive impact. We responded by making proposals for change that reflected the interests of the peasants. We put three main demands: (1) peasants’ rights to independent association; (2) peasants’ rights to secure access to land; and (3) peasants’ rights to housing, health and education. These are, of course, general principles and not a detailed programme. This is what is needed at this stage.
RS: What do you think of the opinion that says that peasants are not concerned, and will not understand all this talk about change, and that they are only concerned with what touches upon their immediate everyday life?
SM: This is completely wrong. Peasants know very well that the law passed against them means that the people in the Parliament do not represent them and do not defend them, and that is why they are calling for the establishment of an independent Peasants’ Union that would defend their real interests. Likewise, the workers who are protesting are saying very clearly that the people in the Parliament do not represent them. How can someone come and say that workers and peasants do not see a link between their economic situation and the political situation?
RS: Let's go back to the April 30th convention of this year, with its slogan ‘Peasants and Change’. Do you still see Kamshish as playing a role beyond its borders? And how does this specifically relate to today's movement for change?
SM: From the very beginning, April 30th always linked national concerns with peasants’ concerns. This year Kamshish again played the role of bringing together the different political forces and helped focus their efforts in one direction. The convention this year was attended by representatives from across the political spectrum: Revolutionary Socialists, Communists, Muslim Brotherhood, other parties, as well as representatives of the different protest movements operating today. I believe we succeeded in suggesting a reasonable framework that would hopefully inspire other players.
RS: How do you see the difference between working with peasants and working with intellectuals?
SM: A big difference. Intellectuals fight with each other a lot, but peasants do not have this ‘disease’. Peasants may, at times, feel discouraged or are too cautious. But at the time of the battle I have always found them next to me. And, by the way, intellectuals are at their best when they cooperate with peasants. I have never seen any group as loyal, sincere, patient and believing in their cause as peasants. For 44 years now, a convention has been held in the memory of Salah. This has not been done even for Nasser. I am now 72 and don't know if this will continue after I die. But the fact that it is continuing, and with this momentum, must tell us something.
RS: How many times were you in prison?
SM: Three times – in 1975, 1979 and 1981, and I went into hiding for one year. This was all during the time of Sadat, and it was all because of opposition to his policies. The last time I was arrested I was accused of being the Women's Officer of the Egyptian Communist Party. I laughed at the prosecutor and said to him: ‘Where are you getting these accusations from? When have I ever had anything to do with women's activities?’
RS: But you do now. Has there been a change in the way you think about this issue?
SM: My first activity with women was when my colleagues insisted that they, and I with them, join a women's NGO that was founded in the 1980s. I was embarrassed and agreed to join, and I am still with them. Now I am heading ‘Women for Change’ and I think it is a very good group and is doing useful things.
You are asking if my position has changed on working on women's issues. I don't know. In general I could never differentiate between political activity and women's activity. I do not see women in isolation. And even all my women-related activities are political. I cannot imagine a free woman in a society that is not free. Yes, there are certain rights that women specifically are deprived of, but she does not struggle for them alone; she does so alongside men. In fact I never felt oppressed by any man, not by my father, nor my husband, nor my brothers, nor anyone. It did not happen to me so maybe I cannot feel it.
RS: One last question. What is your position on democracy, and has it undergone any change?
SM: Of course I am not at all a liberal, and never was in any way. But when I look at the experience of the Soviet Union and other socialist countries I see how the so-called democratic centralism whereby the centre ultimately monopolises all power has cancelled any interaction and changed people into pieces of chess. I am for any democratic form that safeguards the rights of the majority while not doing injustice to anyone, but this is of course a very difficult thing.
RS: How else have you changed over the years?
SM: I have become more flexible. I wouldn't say that my opinions have changed, but I have maybe become more politically mature.
Notes on contributors
Reem Saad is a social anthropologist with research interests in rural society, public culture and historical anthropology. She is currently directing the Middle East Studies Center of the American University in Cairo.
Yasmine Moataz Ahmed is a PhD candidate in Social Anthropology at the University of Cambridge. Her research interests include: anthropology of development, anthropology of the state, food politics and rural citizenship.