January 30, 2008...10:45 pm
Occupational Hazards
“Warden Message:
The situation in the Gaza border area in Northern Sinai remains unsettled. Egyptian police are making efforts to control the border with Gaza, but it remains largely open. The Embassy is currently restricting non-official travel of U.S. personnel to the Gaza border area, Rafah and Al Areesh, and recommends private U.S. citizens avoid travel to those areas as well.”
After a long Tuesday, staying up to greet Wednesday’s new morning did not sound appealing. AUC sponsored a student trip to a salsa club and rented out the top floor for our exclusive use. After a few hours of trying (and failing) to find a competent salsero to practice my Latin ballroom with, I employed the more fluid Middle Eastern dance moves I learned this summer at Arabic school. Needless to say, by 1 o’clock, I was tired. Even though I was roped into going to the Nile Hilton, I soon hailed another taxi with 2 friends to return to Zamalek.
A rounder man slunk up to our group offering, “25 pounds to Zamalek.” An outrageous price, when the norm should be 4-6, extending the upper limit to 10 in case of heavy traffic. I authoritatively refused in Arabic, put took up the second offer for 10 pounds.
The ride was an experience. Taxis barrel down roads with little regard to other cars or pedestrians, almost as if the driver couldn’t care less about the state of his own vehicle. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s one way to release the frustration that comes with living in Cairo.
Our drive got lost several times, stopping to ask the corner guards where Maraashly Church was, getting several, conflicting directions from anyone standing near. When we finally arrived our destination, my companions made to exit the cab, while I stayed behind to pay. When he saw my 10 pound note, he refused, saying that he upped his price to 20.
Here’s where I froze. The protocol for taxis is that if they stay in the car to argue with you, then you have in fact paid enough, and they’re just trying to scam you. If they get out the car and follow you, yelling, then you have shorted them and need to pay up immediately. My late night quandary was that if I had gotten out of the car, would he follow? My friends started to refuse, saying that we were on Zamalek, and 10 pounds was the agreed price. I voiced my assent in Arabic, but after 3 minutes of fevered debate, we relented and forked over the twenty.
My first few days in Cairo have been characterized by a constant, unsettling undercurrent. I chalked it up to my inexperience with travel and inherent cultural differences of which I had been forewarned. My personal space or security has yet to be tried or threatened, and nor to I really expect it to be. I don’t know if I’ve made this clear, but I loved Egypt and Egyptians before my trip to AUC even became a possibility. But my experience in the taxi, and the quoted message from the US Department of State above enforced the fact that no matter how much I love this language, people, and country, I do not belong here. There are so many visceral things connect the society, associations as Egyptians, Arabs, Muslims, that I can’t begin to approach. But although I could appropriately be called “a stranger in a strange land,” my welcome is genuine and enthusiastic.
Now if only our internet worked.
Leave a Reply