For seven years, I lived three floors above a main bridge in central Cairo that connects the two branches of the Nile. I would wake up in shock on average three times a week to the sound of squealing brakes, followed by a crash

On 22 January 2012, two days before the then MB-controlled parliament convened for the first time, I hosted a party at my house. The moment you enter the door of the apartment, you face a big banner that said: “The Muslim Brotherhood are coming… quickly grab a drink or two”. Needless to say, the guests heeded the advice, and the rest was a glorious entry into the history of drunken debauchery and a great source of pride for me. Two years later, and on the day of my 33rd birthday, I am writing this article instead of a banner, with a similar message: “President Sisi is coming… Let’s party!”

For seven years, I lived three floors above a main bridge in central Cairo that connects the two branches of the Nile. I would wake up in shock on average three times a week to the sound of squealing brakes, followed by a crash.

When he is (eventually) elected to Egypt’s Presidency, former Field Marshal Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi knows the Everest of his policy goals will be restoring the country’s floundering economy. But before he can take on the monumental task of ensuring food and petrol stability to a largely impoverished country of over 85 million, Sisi must first eradicate what has become the most serious Islamist insurgency in Egypt’s history.

Coptic Christians have, since 1952, lived according to what might be considered a tacit agreement between the church and the state, one whereby the state committed itself to the protection of Copts, the principles and rules of equality before the law, and equal opportunity, and the church reciprocated by absorbing the activities of Coptic Christians within its walls. The state considered the confinement of Copts inside the church a way to distance these individuals from oppositional political activity, which the state had criminalised. Clergymen at the time welcomed the overwhelming presence of Copts inside their churches, and the phenomenon was linked to the general religious wave that took hold in both Egypt and the outside world beginning from the end of the 1960s and peaking in the mid-1980s.

I saw a couple of friends recently – both of them had been reasons I loved the “City Victorious”, but who had lately moved away from Cairo. We hadn’t met up together in a very long time, and we were talking about how so many of our friends had since left Cairo, for various reasons. Our point was simple – if they all leave, then what is this grand city anymore? If they are all gone, then what does this city mean to us, personally, anymore?

Once the former Soviet Union was dismantled, Russia — which was its brain, beating heart, spine and the main source of its resources and power — chose capitalism and flagrantly followed the West under Yeltsin, before the incumbent Russian president restored his country’s independence and power, even while it continues on the path of capitalism. When the Soviet Union collapsed, some believed the West would welcome Russia with open arms into political, economic and security organisations. Instead, the West — which had worked diligently overtly, covertly, politically and conspiratorially to dismantle the USSR — shunned Russia.

The world celebrated “Press Freedom Day” 3 May. Yet, are the Egyptian journalists, reporters and media personnel joining their peers worldwide in celebrating the day? I highly doubt it.

With Egypt's presidential campaign entering its second week, rival candidates — former military chief Abdel-Fattah El-Sisi and leftist politician Hamdeen Sabahi — have spent the last seven days unveiling their electoral platforms, hoping to widen their public appeal and win over converts from the opposing camp.

Bahrain recently hosted an international conference entitled "All civilisations in service to humanity," where hundreds of participants from all over the world and different religious and belief systems came together to find ways to talk and achieve peace through debate, dialogue and understanding.

The outrage is palpable across the centuries. In the first issue of his provocative newspaper The North Briton, John Wilkes championed the “liberty of the press”. It was “the terror of all bad ministers; for their dark and dangerous designs, or their weakness, inability, and duplicity, have thus been detected.”

The recent news reports of 48 deaths from traffic accidents are bringing back sad memories. Last year, as my wife and I were visiting Luxor, I received a call from a colleague in Washington. His brother and family had been in a tragic car accident. His brother, niece and driver had died at the scene of the accident on the road between Aswan and Abu Simbel. A truck was on the wrong side of the road. We rushed form Luxor to Aswan to see how we could help the mother and son who had been taken to the Aswan hospital. By the time we made it to Aswan, the mother had passed away and all we could do was take care of the 16 year old son until his family came to take him home. I am sure many Egyptians have had similar tragic experiences with loved ones being injured or even killed in traffic accidents.

Across the street from my cousin’s apartment in Rod al-Farag, an area in Cairo’s populated Shubra district, hangs a poster that depicts the former Coptic Pope Shenouda III. A note saying “many thanks to all Muslims who supported us in times of grief” marks the bottom of the photo. The thank you message came to spread about as the death of the Coptic leader had struck his followers in late March 2012. Similar words of unity were uttered during Shenouda’s funeral, three days after his passing. Then, a senior cleric paid respect by saying “it is because of him [Shenouda] that we have national unity with our Muslim brothers”. The words recollected the efforts the Pope had made to bolster interfaith ties in the country. One of the measures includes a ban he imposed on the Copts, preventing them from visiting Jerusalem. “Except with our brothers the Muslims, following the liberation [of Jerusalem]” Shenouda had said – following the example of his predecessor Cyril VI in 1968.

In the rhetoric of both supporters and opponents of the General, there exists a sense that Nasser’s rule is only a recent memory away. It is important to recognise what should be an obvious point: Hosni Mubarak ruled for 30 years; until his ouster, an entire generation of Egyptians had known no other ruler. This is not an insignificant fact when you consider that an estimated 70% or more Egyptians are under the age of 30. Of course, technically speaking, Sisi has only informally been in power for a little under a year. We must then give the disclaimer that there is a certain degree to which our opinions are speculative—the man is not yet president. That said, there is a great deal of data to work with, and it seems all but certain that he will assume presidency if the contentious elections move forward as planned.

I saw a couple of friends recently – both of them had been reasons I loved the “City Victorious”, but who had lately moved away from Cairo. We hadn’t met up together in a very long time, and we were talking about how so many of our friends had since left Cairo, for various reasons. Our point was simple – if they all leave, then what is this grand city anymore? If they are all gone, then what does this city mean to us, personally, anymore?

By now it has become cliché for observers in Egypt and worldwide to say that the Egyptian revolution is dead. Everyone knows it is. Everyone knows that three years after the 25 January uprising, the military and the police have consolidated their decades-long power, corruption continues to dominate the state and all aspects of life in Egypt, dissidence is being brutally silenced, and Mubarak’s regime is still in power. What many observers might not realise or envisage is what the retreat of the revolution could mean for its individual loyalists – how this has affected their daily lives at multiple levels

Egypt always views its historic rights and share of Nile water, and the strong connection between the life of humans, crops and cattle to this quota, of which Egypt uses every drop, as the foundation for any debate over Nile Basin water.

It is ironic that there are 13 international agreements and protocols on combating violence and terrorism that still have not reached a specific definition of a terrorist act or its perpetrators. This shows that terrorism, as a local and global phenomenon, is an evolving phenomenon that requires regular legislative revisions on both the domestic and international level – at least every 10 years, for example.

With very few exceptions, Egyptian media has become a media where one voice minimizes the opportunities for critical or opposing viewpoints. It imposes one predominant discourse which acquires its influence from insistence and repetition and narrowing the available options displayed before the people in the present and the future. Thus, it is a discourse with neither imagination nor ambition.

Next month, we Egyptians will have a critical and significant opportunity to help make our aspirations for political and economic stability a reality. On 26 and 27 May, millions of us from all over the country and abroad will cast votes to choose Egypt’s next president. As we vote — just as we did when we voted overwhelmingly in January to approve the most progressive and inclusive constitution in our history — we will be fulfilling a hopeful promise. That pledge, made to Egyptians and to the world, was for an accountable, effective and balanced government, one that expands rights, puts Egypt on a path toward economic prosperity, and truly answers to all the people of Egypt.

With very few exceptions, Egyptian media has become a media where one voice minimizes the opportunities for critical or opposing viewpoints. It imposes one predominant discourse which acquires its influence from insistence and repetition and narrowing the available options displayed before the people in the present and the future. Thus, it is a discourse with neither imagination nor ambition.