We Live in Cairo – 26 October 2024

We Live in Cairo had me moving in my seat and smiling the whole way through. Under Ann Yee’s and Taibi Magar’s brilliant direction, The Lazours’ musical journey through Egyptian governmental upheaval spanning 2010-2014 celebrates the idea that a revolution can topple an unjust government, while cautioning against overthrowing a government with no idea what might take its place. Told through the eyes of a young group of mixed Christian and Muslim friends, the first act shows how tightly bonded people become when fighting side by side for a new world. Act two shows how easy it is for those relationships to splinter and fall apart in the aftermath when it turns out that the characters agreed on what they were against, but not what they were for.

The score is a combination of western rock musical and Arab influences, and it is the most hypnotic and unique original score I’ve heard in a musical in a very long time. There were moments that sounded like Muslim prayer, moments of simple western-style love songs, and an a capella opening to act two that had me holding my breath. Although there were songs that repeated at different points in the show, it didn’t feel like a cop out because they were in different keys, at different tempos, with different orchestrations and different characters taking part. The song that repeated most frequently was woven into the story as a rallying cry, an anthem, and a dirge, recognizing the power of “one person who had an idea who made it words.” The cadences and phrasing of the lyrics was thoughtful and often defied western rhyme scheme, honoring the idea that no matter who we are, no matter what we believe, we all deserve to raise our voices in song in the echoes of our ancestors and cultural origins.

The scene in the club after the protests in Tahrir Square had successfully yielded Mubarak’s resignation was one of the most interesting moments that felt poignant and relevant to today. The government had fallen, and our young cast of characters were celebrating in the bar, sharing intimate moments, and discovering political differences. While they were celebrating, the power vacuum outside was being filled without the input of the protestors, who had claimed to represent the people. The youth chose to celebrate their victory, and in doing so, lost their voice in filling the void.

As it turned out, some of the characters only supported a democracy if it elected who they thought was best for the people, others wanted a democracy and felt the election results should be respected even if they didn’t like the outcome, and others were wrestling with the knowledge that their civil rights hung in the balance in ways they hadn’t thought might be taken away after Mubarak left office. One of the women mentioned that her rights now hung in the balance. The two gay men, who never came out or said anything overt, were already in hiding and knew their lives would remain that way. A question was raised. Was this a fight for equality or democracy? In America, we often assume they are the same. They are not.

A story that begins celebrating being young, adventurous, and sure of yourself, ends in a loss and confusion that is most devastating in the fact that this momentary unity across religions and philosophy also ends. In the end we are “one person” who cannot bear to look at another because what that person fought for stole our loved ones and our futures, our light and our lives. The Cairo that protagonist Layla (Nadina Hassan) was lovingly capturing on camera in the opening number has warped into a thing she cannot capture or comprehend. And yet she chooses to live there.

She chooses to see and to remember, to photograph and to document. It would have been easier not to, but the Egyptian people (as embodied in these characters) are resilient. They go to jail. They march side by side with those they disagree with. They write protest songs. They post online. They seek the truth. I know these characters. They don’t just live in Cairo. They live in every part of the world inhabited by people who have an innate need to stand for justice and honor. I hope that in their next lifetimes, they have a plan for what should happen when the government falls at the end of their revolution, such that each successive toppling stops requiring another. Only then can we truly be free.

I attended this performance on a press pass from Print Shop PR.