Lindsey Mastis

This was one of those moments that seemed surreal. I drove in the snow to a large apartment in Falls Church, Virginia. I was alone, meeting a man in his apartment. Not unusual for a journalist, but I had little information and part of me wondered what I’d be walking into. I knocked. The door opened, and a wall of cigarette smoke hit me like a brick. A few feet away, smoking and talking on several phones, was Omar Afifi.

He was busy. Very busy. He converted his living room into a command center of sorts. He hooked a computer up to a large flat screen TV and was looking at Google Maps. On another computer, he talked on Skype. He had a phone up to each ear, and another ringing in his hand. Trying to interview him would be a challenge, but he wanted to talk.

It was exactly one year ago. The world was wondering how long Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak would last. Afifi was determined to help bring the leader down.

It’s hard to believe that someone so far away could have any influence on something so big. But Afifi used his knowledge to act as a consultant to the protesters. He told me about his former life in Egypt. He was a police officer that did something forbidden. He wrote a book that helped Egyptians understand the law so they could avoid breaking it and being arrested. The book was banned and he had to leave Egypt. But he wanted to go back. Badly.

The whole time we talked, he was interrupted with more phone and Skype calls. He would zoom into the map and start giving directions. Because he knew how the police would react to a large crowd, he advised protesters on which routes to take so they could grow larger. Smaller streets were better, because the police would be too overwhelmed. He told me that the idea was to protect protesters from police violence. He insisted the protests should be peaceful.

He used social networking to spread information. Skype and phone calls were just one method. He also had YouTube videos and a popular Facebook page. I realized then that I was witnessing an important part of the Revolution. One that was happening in my own back yard.

I left his apartment that day, trying to fit everything I learned into a minute and a half package– hoping that I could accurately tell the story, even though I didn’t know his language.

I interviewed Afifi again, when Mubarak lost his power. I went to Afifi’s apartment, but this time I noticed suitcases. They were packed, sitting in middle of the living room. The phones were still ringing, but there was a calm in the air. He was going back to Egypt. He wasn’t sure if he would be killed, but he was ready to go home. We did a quick interview and he gave me a copy of his book– the one that was banned. Then he shook my hand. One of those handshakes that you know could be the last.

Curious, I look up Afifi online from time to time. I found this article in Ahrem Online about the ongoing Mubarak trial. Afifi is mentioned in the story and, although he is not on trail, is being accused– by the defense– of telling protesters to attack police on the one year anniversary of the January 25th Revolution.

For most Americans, the day Mubarak left office was a new beginning. Yes, there would be rebuilding, but most people here in the US don’t realize what is happening in Egypt. The Revolution isn’t over yet. And judging by the fact his name is still being brought up, neither is Afifi’s role.

Does having more Facebook “friends” make you more influential? Or should you start a Facebook Fan Page? For journalists, influence could be measured in number of “Subscribers.”

This is something fairly new and it’s perfect for journalists.

Think of a subscriber as a viewer (for broadcasters) or reader (for newspaper journos). Having more subscribers means more people will see your content. And unlike Facebook “friends,” the amount of people that can subscribe is unlimited.

When you post an item to your news feed, you decide who sees it: Friends or Public (which includes friends and subscribers). Many journalists have created two personal pages so they can keep some level of privacy. Having people subscribe means journalists only have to manage one account. Not to mention, it’s against Facebook’s rules to have more than one personal page. And many journalists end up having fan pages that are rarely used.

Journalists like myself feel obligated to connect with our audience. This new feature frees us. And now, when we un-friend someone, that personal is subscribed to our page. They can still comment and see our public posts.

BUT… There is a huge difference between un-friending someone on Facebook, and un-following someone on Twitter. I’ve noticed that very few people have a private Twitter feed, yet most people have set privacy controls for at least a portion of their Facebook page. Un-friending someone means you no longer have access to information they share with friends. You may even find yourself locked out of their profile completely. And because subscribing is so new, most people don’t know that they pick who sees what. So subscribers may see nothing.

It will take time for users to learn this new system. And who better than to educate our “friends” than us journalists? When someone you don’t know wants to friend you, message them and let them know they can subscribe. It’s a win-win. They see your content, you get another name added to your subscriber list. Just remember to activate the subscribe feature on your own page first.

Here are the best resources for understanding this new system:

About the Subscribe Button

Facebook’s Official Blog: Introducing the Subscribe Button

PC World: Facebook’s Subscribe Button: A Getting Started Guide

There’s a lot about Andy Rooney I didn’t know. I’m not talking about the private Andy Rooney– I’m talking about the writer Andy Rooney. After reading his obit on CBS News, I realized just how dynamic this man was from beginning to end.

We all know him as that old guy on 60 Minutes that talks about stuff. Many think of him as a curmudgeon (even though I would argue that he should best be known for his curiosity). Now, I learned that he was also active in the Civil Rights movement. As a soldier in the 1940s, he was arrested for sitting in the back of the Army bus– an area designated for blacks only.

And I also learned that he was the reason so many people tuned in to 60 Minutes. According to the obituary, ratings would spike during his segment. I guess that’s not surprising. But I think Andy was surprised. I truly believe he didn’t understand why people wanted to watch him. He just knew he enjoyed doing what he did.

I always hoped I’d meet Andy Rooney. I sometimes thought about questions I would ask him if I ever got the chance. I wanted to write some of these down and perhaps one day I’ll understand the answers:

“Andy– how did you convince anyone to let you do an essay on doors? Was the network hurting for programming, or are you just that convincing?”

“When you worked for the Stars and Stripes, was your work ever censored? Were you encouraged to follow suit with the trend of trying to convince Americans the US was winning the war, even when things weren’t looking good? Or is that something that was incorrectly taught to young people?”

“Have you ever lost sleep over an essay you weren’t happy with because of content?”

“Have you ever lost sleep after reading a letter from a viewer or reader?

“What do you think on-camera writers working for news organizations should do? Are there topics being missed? Is there a greater good writers should be working toward?”

“Does it bother you that young people like me don’t use proper grammar and have trouble spelling (and I guarantee you it’s not because of spell check– at least not in my case).

“What do you think about the evolving English Language– with dictionaries adding words like d’oh! and words created by reality stars.”

“Did you ever go through all the boxes you kept of interesting articles?”

“If you die, what should happen to the desk you made? Would you like to see your office moved to the Newseum? Or do you want to keep it in your family?”

“I’m confused– do you hate or love chocolate chip cookies? And how can anyone hate chocolate chip cookies?”

“Is there anyone living that you wish you could have met and what do you want to ask that person?”

“Over time, how did you find the courage to write about topics you knew would make people write in to tell you they hate you and other nasty things?”

“Do you ever wish you spoke up even more about something?”

“Please share your advice for young journalists and writers.”