Talkin’ About A Revolution

View from the hotel
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By Christina

Driving into Cairo after the relative tranquility of Istanbul was shocking to the senses. Everywhere you looked, there were people; lots and lots and lots of people. Some were just hanging out watching the world go by, many were crossing the street putting themselves in fate’s hands, but most were pushing and shoving to get where they wanted to go. There are 80 million people in Egypt, 20 million of whom live in Cairo. Parts of the city contain the highest density of people per kilometer in the world. This mass of humanity is extracting its toll – the city has terrible pollution and the quality of life for its inhabitants is deteriorating. I was last here in 1989 and things have not really improved. In fact, to quote Hamdy, the wonderful Egyptian guide who took us to the pyramids, things have gotten worse and another revolution (his word, not mine) is in Egypt’s future.

Bread Line
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The pollution is downright depressing. Piles of rubbish are everywhere, and dumps of plastic bottles, old machinery, rotting food, tin cans, and discarded papers pour into the Nile River. From the roof of our hotel (located on the 12^th floor of an office building, in the downtown section of Cairo), you can look out over the city. Most of the rooftops of the buildings are covered in garbage, piles and piles of it. It made me wonder where the tenants of those buildings put their trash now that the roof was full. Evidently, the biggest pollution culprit is the 2 million automobiles in the city. Not only are there no smog restrictions on these vehicles, most of them use diesel fuel, leaving a carbon footprint reminiscent of Bigfoot. The fumes spewing out of the trucks and cars take the form of black smoke, and it is everywhere, seeping into your lungs, pores and clothing. I hate to keep citing statistics, but apparently, something like 20,000 people die each year from pollution-related diseases.

Friendly Girls
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There’s also the noise pollution. I guess it’s not surprising that, given the size of its population, Cairo is one noisy city. But, it’s the amount of extraneous noise that is surprising. Everyone is constantly shouting and hollering. Bread stores are particularly noisy, and we witnessed more than one shouting match over the small amount of bread available for the large crowd waiting. (Hamdy explained that there is not enough grain to make bread for everyone – so shouting matches and pushing crowds are the norm in front of the bread shops). It is the constant honking of car horns, however, that can make you crazy. During one of our taxi rides, the driver would honk the horn every few seconds, for no apparent reason. Maybe he knew the people we were passing on the streets. Maybe he liked to announce his arrival to everyone. Or, maybe he just wanted to make some noise.

Friendly Boys
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I can’t write an entry on Cairo without mentioning the streets or, more precisely, the sport of street crossing. There are no crosswalks, but even if there were, they would be ignored. No self-respecting driver pays the least bit of attention to lane dividers, pedestrians, or street lights (several people joked that “they are just there for decoration”), and scores of people are killed each year in traffic-related accidents. The hair-raising nature of walking around almost discouraged us from leaving our hotel. We compensated by implementing strict rules on hand holding and using the underground metro tunnels, even when we weren’t taking a train.

Bread maker
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Next to the pollution, the other startling aspect of Cairo is the disparity between rich and poor, secular and religious. Driving in from the airport, we passed strip malls with fashionable stores and cafes, only to confront a shanty town a mile or so further down the road. Two of our three nights in Cairo were spent eating at a western-style café called Beanos that offered wraps and panninis along with smoothies and iced frapaccinos. (Putting aside how lame it was for us to eat at a western-style place, the choice of a restaurant named Beanos was dubious at best. We had a couple of good meals, however, and didn’t regret the choice). These hip cafes were filled to the brim with young Egyptians, not Westerners, smoking and sipping espressos while chatting with friends. Elsewhere, however, villagers were bedding down for the night in rooms without electricity and water obtained from a pump in the front yard. It was explained to us that there really is no middle class in Egypt, and one is either rich or poor. This gulf has apparently widened in the twenty-six years since Mubarak came to power and, in many ways, it is this economic disparity that is driving dissension, not the Muslim Brotherhood.

Drinking Tea
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The poor here are desperately poor. High unemployment results in low wages at every level of Egyptian society. For that reason, a culture of “baksheesh” has developed, where every little service is expected to be rewarded with a tip. If you need to park your car, you pay a tip. If you want to use the bathroom (even in a restaurant) you pay a fee. If you want to take a picture of the tourist police on a camel, you give them a little something. Although this is tiresome for us tourists, it must really be a drag for Egyptians who must hand out baksheesh to get their mail, hail a cab, or find their seat at the movies.

Religion is big here. Looking over the Cairo skyline, you see minarets peeking out everywhere and the call to prayer regularly sounds. Most women wear a head scarf and these scarves are much more modest than those we saw in Turkey, as they actually drape around the entire head, covering the chin and neck, leaving the remainder of the scarf to hang down on the shoulders. We also saw quite a few women in full burqas (black tents with eye slits, and many times even the eyes were covered through a netting-like fabric). I will confess that I get a little uncomfortable when I see these women. I try to keep an open mind, but it is hard for me to understand. At least in Egypt, women are let out of the house by themselves and are allowed to drive.

The pious men are also easy to spot. Those are the men with the dark marks on their foreheads (like an “ash” mark on Ash Wednesday), or, for the especially religious men, a prominent dark bump. These marks signify years of praying to Allah, touching one’s head to the ground numerous times each day. It is interesting to pick out the men that obviously pray regularly and those that do not. When I see the religious men, I wonder what they think of me – do I disgust them because my head is uncovered and my ankles show beneath my Capri pants? Do they hate all Westerners? Are they angry at America and what is going on in the Middle East?

I will never know how these men feel about me or what I represent. What I do know, however, is that the Egyptians have welcomed us with open arms. They especially seem thrilled that we are from America and frequently yell out “America Number One” or “I love America” (to which I always respond, “I love Egypt”). At times, this enthusiasm has been a little embarrassing. But, everyone is incredibly warm and genuinely happy that we are visiting. Many Egyptians do not know many words of English, but they have the word “welcome” down to a science and we hear it everywhere we go.