13-17 March
All over Egypt I hear that tourists usually spend only a day or two in Cairo. I'm there for five days, but the city discourages me, even in spite of the revolution, and I get unsatisfactory pictures as a result. My bus from Sinai reaches Cairo at 8pm, and immediately I'm in a cab for fifteen minutes of gridlock and then for a fifteen minute hellish ride. Drivers straddle lanes and honk to warn off other cars, headlights at night are optional, very few traffic lights, pedestrians (I would soon be among them, absent another choice) dash across three and four lane roads against traffic going 40 mpg. Cabs honk and dart at curbs continually trolling for fares. There is very little public park space and almost no greenery in general.
All these elements apply across the core city, where those who get by, maybe 5 million of 24 million residents, live. Eighteen million live worse; I had only glimpses of this. At most a million (probably less) live in areas that wouldn't demoralize me.
In a basically corrupt, cynical society you usually get to live with your children in a decent neighborhood by playing along, in business or as a part of the state, by somehow making life worse for people around you.
My hotel had been full during the revolution and after with tourists but more so journalists; the day I come six are evacuated from Libya; the day I leave the UN resolution passes and five of them return despite fatigue.
I find my way to Tahir Square, a 30 minute walk (an hour the first time, as there are few English signs). But it is quiet, with the Egyptian Museum, in need of a makeover and with wall-to-wall touts, occupying a corner:
I learn from the journalists that in fact Cairo and all of Egypt is abuzz with political talk. A referendum, the first free one in most people's lives, is scheduled for next week. A day later I go wandering south from Tahir, into one of the nicer neighborhoods. I wonder if this, which I see in there, is part of the political conversation:
A bit later I come upon a demonstration which, I learn, had just begun. Poor people are in the street in front of a company demanding lower cooking oil prices:
The army allows a ten minute demonstration, as a line of blocked cars grows. I watch them let the protesters know that the demo has to move to the side street. The protesters resist and the army joins ranks and pushes them back forcefully, at times firing into the air. Once the demo is on the side street the army lets it go on.
I continue into the Garden District and come upon a university demo. Note the English protest sign:
I reach the heart of this nice neighborhood, home to university faculty, government officials, some embassies:
Looking through my pictures, it is clear that I photographed what made me feel better when in fact the city oppressed me a lot. I took a mile walk through a poor area, very crowded, dirty, women and kids begging, but took no pictures. Where it ended at the Nile I along with everyone else had to walk across five lanes of moving traffic to progress. Millions of people migrate to the city because there is nothing in their desert or mountain or Nile-side village, and then they find that there is nothing really for them in Cairo.
Without a true revolution and economic opportunity, nothing, that is, besides religious affiliation and the self respect it offers. Just before I got to Cairo the Coptic Christian neighborhood where the city's garbage men live and manage their salvage work was attacked by equally-poor Muslims. I visit a church near here and a mosque in the old Islamic part of the city. Here you find ritual order as well as some basic peace and quiet:
I'm just a tourist, without the knowledge or distance of a journalist. My impressions may be wrong. I'll note that every Egyptian I interact with is courteous at a minimum and often friendly. I'll also note that in the souk (outdoor market) near my hotel people in huge numbers (if mostly men) sit for hours every evening drinking tea or smoking in fifty cafes as, with a lot of friends, they shoot the breeze.
All over Egypt I hear that tourists usually spend only a day or two in Cairo. I'm there for five days, but the city discourages me, even in spite of the revolution, and I get unsatisfactory pictures as a result. My bus from Sinai reaches Cairo at 8pm, and immediately I'm in a cab for fifteen minutes of gridlock and then for a fifteen minute hellish ride. Drivers straddle lanes and honk to warn off other cars, headlights at night are optional, very few traffic lights, pedestrians (I would soon be among them, absent another choice) dash across three and four lane roads against traffic going 40 mpg. Cabs honk and dart at curbs continually trolling for fares. There is very little public park space and almost no greenery in general.
All these elements apply across the core city, where those who get by, maybe 5 million of 24 million residents, live. Eighteen million live worse; I had only glimpses of this. At most a million (probably less) live in areas that wouldn't demoralize me.
In a basically corrupt, cynical society you usually get to live with your children in a decent neighborhood by playing along, in business or as a part of the state, by somehow making life worse for people around you.
My hotel had been full during the revolution and after with tourists but more so journalists; the day I come six are evacuated from Libya; the day I leave the UN resolution passes and five of them return despite fatigue.
I find my way to Tahir Square, a 30 minute walk (an hour the first time, as there are few English signs). But it is quiet, with the Egyptian Museum, in need of a makeover and with wall-to-wall touts, occupying a corner:
I learn from the journalists that in fact Cairo and all of Egypt is abuzz with political talk. A referendum, the first free one in most people's lives, is scheduled for next week. A day later I go wandering south from Tahir, into one of the nicer neighborhoods. I wonder if this, which I see in there, is part of the political conversation:
A bit later I come upon a demonstration which, I learn, had just begun. Poor people are in the street in front of a company demanding lower cooking oil prices:
The army allows a ten minute demonstration, as a line of blocked cars grows. I watch them let the protesters know that the demo has to move to the side street. The protesters resist and the army joins ranks and pushes them back forcefully, at times firing into the air. Once the demo is on the side street the army lets it go on.
I continue into the Garden District and come upon a university demo. Note the English protest sign:
I reach the heart of this nice neighborhood, home to university faculty, government officials, some embassies:
Looking through my pictures, it is clear that I photographed what made me feel better when in fact the city oppressed me a lot. I took a mile walk through a poor area, very crowded, dirty, women and kids begging, but took no pictures. Where it ended at the Nile I along with everyone else had to walk across five lanes of moving traffic to progress. Millions of people migrate to the city because there is nothing in their desert or mountain or Nile-side village, and then they find that there is nothing really for them in Cairo.
Without a true revolution and economic opportunity, nothing, that is, besides religious affiliation and the self respect it offers. Just before I got to Cairo the Coptic Christian neighborhood where the city's garbage men live and manage their salvage work was attacked by equally-poor Muslims. I visit a church near here and a mosque in the old Islamic part of the city. Here you find ritual order as well as some basic peace and quiet:
I'm just a tourist, without the knowledge or distance of a journalist. My impressions may be wrong. I'll note that every Egyptian I interact with is courteous at a minimum and often friendly. I'll also note that in the souk (outdoor market) near my hotel people in huge numbers (if mostly men) sit for hours every evening drinking tea or smoking in fifty cafes as, with a lot of friends, they shoot the breeze.
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