Decoding the Underlying Narrative in Metro: A Story of Cairo
Amr Abbas
Introduction
On a surface level, the graphic novel Metro -- and its English translation Metro: A Story of Cairo -- presents little more than a secondary critique of the socio-political and economic status quo of the late Hosni Mubarak (1928 – 2020) era. Yet, with some knowledge of the period’s socio-political context, it becomes more than a passing critique. The graphic novel borrows from Western tradition when it comes to character design and the narrative course of the graphic narrative. However, despite the Westernization of the narrative and how it easily translates to a more Western style, particularly American, it is, first and foremost, made for an Egyptian audience. Metro takes place during the final years of Mubarak’s regime [he ruled from 1981-2011] and shortly before the beginning of the Arab Spring and the 25th of January Revolution [2011] in Egypt. This paper investigates and decodes the underlying socio-political layer of the translated narrative through a close reading of the graphic novel with knowledge of the cultural context. It thereby aims to contextualize this layer of narration in both El Shafee’s Arabic original of Metro (El Shafee, 2008) and the English-language translation by Chip Rossetti -- Metro: A Story of Cairo (El Shafee, 2012), arguing how familiarity with the socio-political and cultural context in which the graphic novel is rooted is essential for a more fundamental understanding of it.
Background
Metro has received acclaim from Egyptian and Arab critics and has been translated into Italian and English. However, ahead of that, the comic was ironically banned from publication in 2008. The published copies were suppressed for the inclusion of “inappropriate statements and pictures,” and the publication was considered “harmful to public ethics.” (Hanafy, 2016: 421). The comic itself follows the straightforward trajectory of an Americanized style of the action genre, where Shehab, a young computer engineer, is chased after by a loan shark, pushing him to decide to rob a bank using his advanced software. The narrative is structurally divided by landscape markers, particularly in the form of Metro stations. However, the simple and rather straightforward narrative is not the most intriguing aspect of the graphic novel for a close reading; it is the implied villain that forced censorship upon the work: corruption. Corruption in the graphic novel involves itself heavily with the context of the late-Mubarak era, particularly during the peak of police and government corruption. However, the interweaving of the cultural background within the narrative is not clear-cut to the casual reader, since many elements carry additional weight that capture the socio-political anxieties of the late-Mubarak era.
Social Layer and Class Critique
The cultural understanding of the graphic novel is implied early on with the appearance of visions of material Egyptian culture, such as the ringing of mobile phones with different songs as ringtones (El Shafee, 2012: 5). While on the surface level, the ringtones only present the different norms of Egyptian society and Egyptian culture, through a close reading, they present different social and age classes of the individual, something which is almost all but missing in translation in the English version. In Fig. 1, the first panel to the left presents a middle-aged man who is likely a government employee,1 portrayed through the way he holds his phone at a distance and the fashion style with the suspenders, the high-up trousers, and the tucked-in half-sleeve shirt. The choice of ringtone here is a traditional one, playing with the idea that a man of that lifestyle is technologically challenged. The second and third panels present younger generations, with the second panel playing a very popular 2006 romantic song by Mohammed Hamaky and the third likely playing a 2004 rap boyband song by MTM that was most popular among young men. The fourth panel plays more with the stereotype of the working class or unemployed strugglers, often referred to as tramps in colloquial Egyptian. The final panel portrays an older woman who visually resembles the stereotypical female government employee or a housewife,2 with the stereotypical ringtone “Enta Omry”3 from 1965 by Umm Kalthoum. This decoding of the visuo-textual messages within the graphic novel is re-coded through the translation, and that is where some of the messages are lost in translation. Hall refers to the misunderstanding of coded messages and points out the need to understand the contextual socio-political situations, and even then, he refers to the “dominant” and the “preferred” code, which can be lost through the “selective perception” of the audience within the same language, let alone in a translated version (Hall, 1980: 512–515). Similarly, Dittmar refers to the symbolic language in comics and the role of signs in relating and expressing the idea or the concept to the reader (Dittmar, 2020: 31). As Hall’s argument relates to audio-visual communication, Dittmar’s focuses on the textual and the visual sequential language of comics, which can be interpreted through the visual and lingual codes layered within the narrative (Dittmar, 2020: 40–41). While the concept of multiple signifieds on one signifier was originally developed for landmarks (Dittmar, 2016: 209–210), Dittmar has since used the same concept -- which describes a condition where a single visual and/or textual signifier simultaneously carries several meanings depending on the reader/viewer -- in relation to comics (Dittmar, 2020: 31–32).
While the cultural context and understanding are much easier to grasp for an Arabic-speaking reader from anywhere in the Middle East -- thanks to the high popularity of Egyptian cultural output in film, song, and art in general -- the context becomes harder to decipher for a non-Middle Eastern audience, and practically impossible without aid for a non-Arabic-speaking audience. What is lost in translation, in this case, becomes crucial to the overall tone of the graphic novel and the underlying narrative within the folds of the chapters. For example, the hardest part to decipher within the five panels is the third, which reads “Ba-bump-a-bump-bump” in the English translation, yet, in the original Arabic, it reads “Terrren terrelem terrelem-lem,” which could be a reference to the music in MTM’s song “My phone is ringing.”4 The interweaving of the cultural expressions and practices of different individuals and groups in the narrative demonstrates the multidimensional fabric of Egyptian society. The contrast between the younger characters in panels two and three and one and five is demonstrated both visually, textually, and contextually. However, situating the cultural context within those panels requires a certain level of familiarity with the socio-political and socio-economic dynamics of the period.
Fig. 1. Ringtones depicting different social and age classes of Egyptian society. (Metro, p. 5).
Music has always been a symbol of culture, class, and lifestyle. Mobile ringtones during the mid-2000s have also played a role in cultural expression, individuality, and mood (Gopinath, 2013: xx–xxi). In addition to the inaudible lyrical (and musical) signs, there are also the visual signs clearly present within the five panels in both the way the characters dress and the way they stand (with their mobile phones). For instance, the first panel signals the age of the character through his bald pattern and the way he dresses, with suspenders and trousers lifted a little too high. In the second, the pattern of the tight trousers and the veil present a common critique of the way young women dressed during the late 2000s, with the contradictory fashion of the hijab (veil) to conceal the female, accompanied by tight trousers and tops and high heels, which are often pointed out socially as pretentious. The third panel presents a younger generation with rolled-up sleeves and a patterned shirt that is left untucked. The fourth, as previously mentioned, refers to a particular layer of society, often referred to as the unemployed, which ironically presents the most working-class group in the city. The final panel presents a quizzical mixture of upper-middle-class and nostalgic expression in the form of the woman’s skirt, hairdo, and the ringtone in itself. The ringtone song in the fifth panel refers to what was once considered high culture (Hammond, 2004: 144–146), but it is now regarded as nostalgic.
The translator’s introduction refers to some of the songs that are mentioned in these panels (El Shafee, 2012: ix–x). However, even with these notes, the cultural context can be misread and misidentified without the relevant cultural knowledge. Additionally, there is a locational layer that plays a part in the definition of the socio-economic classes of the characters within the graphic novel.
Other signs that are only recognized within sufficient cultural knowledge, understanding, and background take shape in the visual form that El Shafee focused on in some panels, particularly in relation to the more important secondary characters. Mustafa, for instance, is signaled to be of a lower class, particularly by the t-shirt he wears throughout the narrative. It reads “Nile” with the Nike checkmark-like “Swoosh” [Fig. 2]. And, the distinction of the climbing social class of the villain “Hagg Ghareeb” as seen through the Mercedes-Benz he rides. The German automobile has been a strong social identifier of class in Egyptian culture, often shown in TV dramas and films [Fig. 3]. Contextually, the Mercedes-Benz has long been used to signal a stereotypical status symbol of a particular social class and is often used to pinpoint the rich villain, such as is the case with the iconic Noor Al Sharif film, “The Shame” (1982), where Al Sharif’s character drove the same (but older model) vehicle.
Fig. 2. The Nike ripoff t-shirt with the “Swoosh” logo as seen throughout the graphic novel. Page 5.
Fig. 3. The Mercedes car. Page 7.
Cultural knowledge is therefore essential to closely examine the different layers of the graphic novel, aside from the work as a culturally independent work. The snippet of cultural understanding that Rossetti shares with the reader in his introduction, particularly in the references to the secondary character, Wannas, is sufficient for the base level of understanding of the comic. Wannas presents a crucial strand of Egyptians in many dimensions, which will be further discussed in the following part of this paper. Rossetti writes, “Wannas is a Sa’idi from Sa’id, or Upper Egypt, whose people are considered hicks and are often the target of Egyptian jokes,” which explains the segment on page 19 -- that the translator refers to in his note (El Shafee, 2012: ix) -- but only minimally expresses the interlinking of the social class to the socio-political layer of the comic.
The interweaving of social and age norms of the late 2000s in Egypt is not only portrayed in the way those characters are designed, it is played with much more in a socio-political context as a means of critique against the Egyptian government and the stale Egyptian politics and political scene before the Egyptian Revolution of 2011. The political interplay becomes much more evident during the penultimate section (El Shafee, 2012: 65–80), particularly with the use of the protest as a cataclysmic event in the narrative. Whereas the speculation of a revolution was hard to imagine at that point, the comic depicts a much smaller idea, referring indirectly to the numerous protests against the government that occurred from the beginning of 2006 until the downfall of the Mubarak regime on Feb. 11, 2011.
Interlying Socio-political Critique in Narration
After the opening segment of the un-chaptered graphic novel, the first “station” appears in the text, signifying a temporal and spatial shift. The stations, following the title of “metro,” signal the different “chapters” of the graphic novel. They also signal shifts of time and space and, more importantly, a succession of events, which is not only crucial to understanding the underlying political narrative but also refers to a speculation of a then future that already came to be. The use of trains as a metaphor for arriving at a different stage in space and time has been coded into the visual memory (Kilbourn, 2013: 317–318) through other works from film and TV.
However, the metro stations also convey a different narrative of the story, particularly, regarding socio-economic classes and different levels of political or apolitical engagement during the stale period of the Mubarak regime. Class-critique in relation to particular areas of Cairo is harder to define without the cultural context and the intertextual coding based on various works of different media. The differentiation of class in the graphic novel serves as one of the many interweaving layers of the political value of the work. The two secondary characters, Wannas and Wael, present two sides of one coin in Metro: the silent majority and the alignment to support or protest when forced to take a side. Both characters take on unethical and illegal gigs: Wannas dislodges himself from his shoe-cleaning work and opts for begging instead, which in turn provides him with much more money, whereas Wael takes on a job as a National Democratic Party thug5 to attack protestors during a demonstration instead of his work as a wedding singer. Both characters, who represent the poor and apolitical, return near the end of the graphic novel in the protest section on opposite sides. Whereas Wannas finds his true calling in leading the protest with his voice, Wael finds himself on the same side as before: a thug. The concluding moments of their lives come in stark opposites despite dying at the same protest. Wannas says, “In my life, death is the best thing to happen to me. I’m a free man.” Whereas Wael’s last words are “I wanted to make a video clip […].” (El Shafee, 2012: 76–77). And then, both characters face entirely different endings: Wannas is redeemed, whereas Wael is forsaken by the very party that caused his death. The significance and futility of the two characters’ demise and the aftermath of their deaths show the precariousness and the value of life; while one is celebrated for his moment of redemption, the other is forgotten.
The demise of Wael and his dissociation from the National Party is an act of betrayal and scapegoating that was a common tactic used by the ruling regime and party. While the events of the Camel Incident or Battle of the Camel (BBC News, 2012; Wikimedia Foundation, 2024)6 occurred several years after the release (and censorship) of the original version of Metro, the same tactic has been repeated by high-up party members. While the signals are clear in both the original language and the translation that the villainous party members deny Wael’s involvement and recruitment, socio-political and cultural understanding are crucial to connect it to previous encounters between thugs and protestors in Egypt, as well as ones that happened after the writing of the graphic novel. While readers who are unfamiliar with the relevant socio-political and cultural context are likely to interpret this segment as speculative or fully fictional, those who possess the necessary contextual knowledge are allowed deeper insights by drawing a connection with factual incidents.
Fig. 4. Thugs of the National Democratic Party. Page 76.
The levels of political engagement are also shown to be based on class and lifestyle. For instance, villains such as Ghareeb and the most corrupt, like the bank director, are at the top of the economic class and have the most power, and at the bottom of the economic class are characters such as Wannas and Wael. In the middle class are Dina and Shehab. The levels of political engagement are almost dependent on class as well, where those who belong to the higher class are the ones in power, the middle class represents the protestors, and the lower class includes the apolitical and marginalized. The signs that are used throughout the graphic novel pinpoint those classes and their relationship to politics and power, where the most powerful are the wealthiest, and the most marginalized are the poorest.
The political engagement and awareness of the middle-class characters of the narrative are shown through different aspects. For instance, in Shehab’s case, his awareness of the political corruption that ruled over the economics of the late-Mubarak period is seen through his understanding of the underlying reasons behind the bank’s rejection of his loan request; however, at the same time, he is part of the passive silent majority, unmotivated by his awareness. On page 65, the contrast between Dina’s engagement in the political scene and her entanglement in politics and protest culture in comparison to Shehab’s silence is clear when he points out that she should “let that stuff go.”
Fig. 5. Shehab and Dina on protesting. Page 65.
Fear of the government in Egypt has drawn many people away from politics. That fear was mainly fear of persecution, deeply rooted in police brutality against civilians and unjust treatment (Doss and Kingsley, 2013; Ismail, 2014). A common phrase among the silent majority when it comes to politics (any politics, from workplace politics to governmental and institutional ones) was to “let it go.” Among the most infamous phrases leading up to the 25th of January Revolution was one by then-president Mubarak, “Let it go, man,”7 when publicly asked a question8 by one of the party members during a National Democratic Party conference (Al-Hajjar, 2017). The critique then becomes one of society as a whole rather than only a critique against the political status quo. Knowledge of the socio-political situation at the time is crucial to understanding the characters and their behaviors from the visual and/or textual signs embedded in the graphic novel. Many of those signs linked to class -- as discussed in the previous section relating to identifying them through ringtones and visual signs -- are difficult, if not impossible, to interpret correctly for those who do not speak Arabic and do not possess the necessary cultural knowledge. The political critique is, to a great extent, easier to interpret and identify for those who do not possess the cultural and societal knowledge in comparison to the societal critique.
The societal critique in Metro comes in doubles through contrast between two characters. Much like the comparison between Wannas and Wael, Wannas is also a contrast to Shehab in the fact that they are both originally from Upper Egypt. As explained by the translator, the Upper Egyptian is often the subject of mockery; however, Shehab also recalls his time with his father in Upper Egypt, where he learned Tahtib.9 Shehab is likely a descendant of an Upper Egyptian father/family. Upper Egyptian men are either subject to mockery or referred to as heroic (and in some popular cultural outputs, both)10. Upper Egyptian heroism is one that is understood from the cultural context and the old traditions of showing the Upper Egyptian man as a valiant type who is kind and generous but strong and unyielding. While this is not expressed in the comic in any way except for the showcasing of both Wannas’ last actions and Shehab’s heroism throughout the narrative, it is encoded through cinematic and television series traditions. The juxtaposition of heroism and mockery presented in the graphic novel plays with the idea that the hero (Shehab) could have easily been similar to the shoe-shiner-turned-beggar (Wannas) under different circumstances, particularly educational and economic ones. The cultural background and awareness of the stereotypes and archetypes of characters used in a broader sense provide a more nuanced understanding of this double meaning. The novel plays with doubles in many ways, such as the doubles of the same social class in Wael and Mustafa; the doubles with the same background, such as Wannas and Shehab; and doubles within the same economic class, such as Wael and Wannas. This form of duality that is used throughout the graphic novel is not always explained, and it is much harder to decode through reading the translation without having the relevant cultural background and the understanding of the intended double meaning in the original Arabic version. In that, an Arabic-speaker with the cultural knowledge of Egypt would also make sense of the translation to a great extent. However, as mentioned earlier in this paper, without a grasp of the cultural background, meaning is often lost to the very base level of the narrative, which stands quite well independently.
Train Stations and the Political Status Quo
As previously mentioned, train stations serve as a marker for both place and time in the narrative, as borrowed from older Hollywood traditions. They also serve as a divider in “chapters” in the graphic novel. Where the first station/chapter is Mohamed Naguib Station (Fig. 6), as it is shown after the prologue, the final station/chapter is Mubarak Station11 (Fig. 7). Through the graphic novel, the chapters/stations are mostly named after former Egyptian presidents -- Naguib, Sadat, Nasser, and Mubarak -- with a few exceptions that signal a more socio-economic context, particularly relating to the wealth/poverty of a particular area, to showcase the wealth/poverty of a character. On page 18, the mention of Ezbet al-Batt in reference to Wannas and the “nice” side of Maadi serve as complete opposites, presenting extreme poverty and extreme power and wealth, respectively.
Fig. 6. Mohamed Naguib station. Page 3
Aside from the social and class aspect of the locations, the significance of the stations’ names and their strategic placement carries weight to the text. The first station that is mentioned is Mohamed Naguib Station, coinciding with the first president of the Republic of Egypt. The underlying and coded narrative tells a different story; it tells the story of post-monarchy Egypt, beginning with Naguib and ending with Mubarak. The locationality and locality of the narrative play with the social, political, and economic states of Egypt and Egyptians. The different stations and locations represent different classes and corresponding levels of political engagement. Mubarak Station then becomes the merger of all social classes, as seen in Fig. 7, and the station becomes the place for the final act.
Fig. 7. Mubarak Station. Page 83.
The final station represents Mubarak and the late-Mubarak regime in several ways: first up is the namesake; secondly, it quotes Mubarak in reference to the ever-increasing population of Egypt; and lastly, it presents the finality of the period, where Mubarak was the present and the foreseeable future of Egypt. The final page of the comic is a standstill between Shehab and Dina, where the first says, “Let’s get out of this tunnel…” as the final line of the graphic novel (El Shafee, 2012: 91). The reference to the tunnel has many meanings: it refers to the literal tunnel, but it also refers to the idea of being stuck, which persists throughout the narrative, for instance, as Shehab says, “I have to get out of this whole lousy cage,” early on (El Shafee, 2012: 21). The reference to the tunnel is also persistent with the period, when many young people attempted to flee Egypt through legal and illegal means, but many found it difficult to escape, which further explains the reference to the tunnel and the cage.12 Finally, the tunnel also refers to the tunnel of Mubarak and the corrupt late-Mubarak regime. The idea of immigration is not one that is easy to decipher from an outside perspective. “Getting out” and “escaping,” as communicated through several ways, is a message coded with the cultural and contextual understanding of the work and can be addressed only with prior knowledge. Decoding the embedded messages is less straining in Arabic, as many of the signs are easier to comprehend in their original and intended language. The encoded messages in the English translation, therefore, become less accessible, even to a bilingual reader, due to the different possible interpretations, as is the case with the final speech bubble of the graphic novel.
Conclusion
The oscillation between poor and rich, educated and illiterate, political and apolitical is visible through the diversity of the cast and the action within the story (Hanafy, 2016: 422), but through the landmarks and minute markers. That temporal shift also occurs in the dividing stations of the comic, representing the past, the present, and a speculative image of a future that was later realized during the Arab Spring. The split between different socio-economic classes is merged and silhouetted in the protest sequence on pages 65 to 69, where the silhouettes become black and white, signaling only the difference between oppressor and oppressed. The focus on the late-Mubarak regime situates Metro as a work of speculative fiction and protest culture.
Metro and its translated version, Metro: A Story of Cairo, and the reproductions of the graphic novel, carry a plethora of meanings hidden behind culturally, contextually, and temporally coded references and signs. While the graphic novel remains an independent work that functions freely without the constraints of close reading and deep analysis of its socio-political context, knowledge of the cultural context and socio-political realities that Metro is rooted in is crucial to decode these additional layers of meaning and dimensions of a people’s reality.
Endnotes
1 Government employee is an Egyptian stereotype, referring to men with nine-to-three jobs who lead conventional and arguably boring lifestyles.
2 The female government employee is often one of the most despicable stereotypes in Egyptian culture, thriving on bureaucracy. Many satirical works depict the stereotype “Madam Affaf” as a way to make fun of Egyptian bureaucracy.
3 “Enta Omry” is one of the most popular Egyptian songs that has continued its prominence until today. The song is often heard in television and film to depict an aspect of traditional Egyptian life. It is also often used in cafes, restaurants, and airports, particularly the ones that aim to be touristic attractions.
4 The 2004 song, “Telephony Bey-ren” (transl. My Phone Is Ringing) samples and remixes a standard mobile ringtone of the time and interweaves it into the song.
5 National Democratic Party (commonly referred to as the National Party) thugs were the brutal and illegal hand of the National Democratic Party government, which Sadat and Mubarak headed before it was dissolved in April 2011. There are many instances of National Party-paid thugs that attacked protestors, perhaps none more infamous than Mawqiat al-Gamal (The Camel Incident or Battle of the Camel) that occurred Feb. 2, 2011 (Wikimedia Foundation, 2024).
6 Many of the online newspaper records for the infamous incident have been redacted and deleted, including archival references. Some of the articles appear to have been locked behind special access at the time of writing this paper.
7 “Let it go” is the contextual translation of the phrase “Kabbar Mokhak,” which literally translates to “Enlarge your brain.” The phrase is colloquially used in daily life in Egypt.
8 The (very inaudible) question asked to Mubarak was regarding the state, where Mubarak’s response was, “Do you think that I will go through everything that occurs in the country? Let it go, man” (loosely translated for context).
9 Tahtib is the term for the traditional Egyptian stick-fighting, mainly practiced in Upper Egypt.
10 Films such as “Saidi fil Gama’a al Amerikeya” (1998; transl. Upper Egyptian Is the American University in Cairo) and “Hammam fi Amesterdam” (1999; transl. Hammam in Amsterdam), among a plethora of others, use the upper Egyptian as both a subject of mockery and a hero simultaneously that it has created a sub-genre of its own.
11 Mubarak Station has been renamed to Al-Shohadaa (translation: The Martyrs) Station after the Egyptian Revolution to honor the martyrs of the revolution.
12 The cage, tunnel, or maze are all terms that were used to refer to Egypt during the late 2000s period. Many street jokes and sayings remain undocumented.
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Amr Abbas is an independent Swedish-Egyptian researcher collaborating with Malmö University Comics Hub, the editor of Cálice Magazine, a writer and comics artist. He holds an MA in cultural studies from Malmö University and a BA in English literature from Alexandria University. His research interests include comics, creative writing, identity, metafiction, metamodernism, and transmedia studies.
.Editor's note - this essay was accepted for IJOCA 27-2, and edited by John A. Lent (JAL) and Mu Lin.
