So when my life long friend skyped me yesterday and looked at me in shock when I told him what I’m bringing home these days I had to “switch it on him” (the rap talk is coming back – God help us) I had to “give it to him African street style” – “flipmode” – I live “the high life ma brother.”  I am King Cairo.

Firstly, can you imagine needing a headache tablet at 11pm and getting one delivered to your door? or hayfever pills, nappies, crisps….CRISPS FOR GOD SAKES! And just phoning a shop and having it (yes 1 item, ONE) arrive in 5 minutes flat?

Can you imagine being able to order ANY food you want to your house at midnight? Including KFC and McDonalds? I know! In London you order pizza and after about 11pm you can forget that too. You can order an Indian or Chinese but when you only eat Halal your options are severely limited. (Unless you live in the Muslim ghettos of Hounslow, or Tooting, or Southall etc and let’s face it……why would you want to do that? – Sorry all the people in those areas – but you know I’m right)

I couldn't even eat the KFC in London because it wasn't Halal. Junk food? Lets face it....if you're going to eat like a slob, why should you have to get off your fat a***! to get it yourself? - I'm loving it... ....Or is that McDonalds.....?

Forget that. I call a guy when my car is broken down and he goes and gets it fixed for me. It’s cheaper because the mechanics know that I’m foreign and triple the price when I go to them. He returns a few hours later with my car fixed. I’m a bit lucky with this one, most people don;t have this luxury, but then again there can only be one King Cairo. Before I found Hussein, my trusty driver and altogether brilliant “get things done” man, I used to take the car to the garage myself and we all know what that was like!

Forget even that. On Friday mornings I call my Bawab from my balcony, high above the dusty ground levels made for mere mortal men, and he pops off to get us, the whole family of 6, an Egyptian breakfast feast of fuul, tamaaya (felafel), bread, cheese (gebna bieyda), ghargheer (rocket), olives, fruit, juice – the whole “shabang”. Fresh and hot. I don’t phone him – read it again…FROM THE BAL-CO-NY!!! (A word British people only get to say on holiday) Because he is outside WASHING MY CAR.  I didn’t even ask him to do it – (you’re still thinking like a Londoner) – he does it ANYWAY….EVERYDAY…..AAADY (normal). The whole thing….the WHOLE THING…12LE (1 pound 20p sterling).

“My coat Jeeves…come on…hop to it…”

 

Other families also like to gather on the balcony. But they have no Bawab below. Look at them....pretenders....they are looking "up" for the bawab....haha! Idiots. Real Royals know the bawab is below, washing the car.

Talking of the car…… in  London I used to wash my car once a fortnight or more recently when I left I would take it to one of the Polish hand-washed places which have sprung up EVERYWHERE in the capital as yet again, foreigners show the English what enterprise and entrepreneurship is. Granted I had a 7 series BMW with broadcast television and live rear view camera….old Bertha I used to call her….what I would do to have been able to bring you here where petrol is like 50% less. I don’t have a car now but in the summer when I get use of my mother -in-law’s car it get’s washed EVERY MORNING by my bawab. I don’t even have to think about it. I park it the night before dusty and dirty I get in it the next day – clean.

“The name is Kong…’King’Kong.”

I can park where I like. Free. I used to pay 150 sterling A YEAR!!!! (1500 LE)  For the privilege of parking in the street outside MY OWN HOUSE in London. Hello?

I can drive downtown for free. In London I paid 10 sterling (100 LE) EVERT TIME I drove my car into the centre of London. And for you Egyptians thinking…”No problem ….just don’t pay” ….think again. The process is automated. Camera’s catch you and apply the charge. Computers issue the warning and the fine, which if not paid becomes 50 sterling (500 LE). I think it has now gone up to 25 pounds sterling…… Scandalous!

When you see that red circled letter C you are entering the "pay zone". You can keep that - thanks but nooooo.

I could never afford a cleaner in London. I tried to sort it out countless number of times, but it just seemed like such an exhausting expense. Check out Homeclean (just the first site I found as an example). Are you kidding me? Seven pounds an hour? My cleaner, a 15 year old girl called…..not fair to really name her I guess we’ll call her…. Habiba, cleans my house for around 5 hours, from 7am to around 12 noon / 1pm. She takes 60 LE. That’s around 6 pounds sterling. Thats about 10 LE over the going rate where I live. That would be 350 LE in the UK. For 1 days cleaning? OMG. No thanks – I’ll clean it myself.

Oh don’t start on the fact she is 15 years old. She is engaged to be married. She is in comparison to the other bawab daughters on our street….”loaded” (has lots of money). She cleans for my whole building and half the blocks in the street. You have to book in advance to get her to do any extra days. She earns more money than her father. For someone who never went to school, she is very bright, cheerful, very honest, reliable and yes…..happy. She can’t wait to be married (so she tells us) and so feeling sorry for her is misplaced arrogance. Plus you know, Kings…. don’t pity we employ. Done that. Move on. Hand wave.

Remember ironing on Sunday night? Remember that? I have a guy that comes to the house and takes all my washing and brings it back washed and ironed. “That must be expensive,” I hear you say with your London thinking accent. Yes it is. It costs me a whopping 1 pound (10LE). I couldn’t buy my way on a bus in London for 1 pound sterling.

“Dismissed.”

My electricity and gas bills come to (on average) about 100 LE a month. That’s a tenner. Yes 10 sterling. Haha! You couldn’t fart for 10 pound sterling a month in the UK (yes I said that – I don’t know what has gotten into me lately – I apologise….you shouldn’t read my diary out loud to your kids anyway – your fault not mine….you know what’s coming now don’t you? Yes…. I digress

Seriously though, Some things are really expensive here. Cars being a good example. There is NO second hand market here. A second hand car will cost you about as much as a new one as they keep their value so well. I don’t know why as every second hand car has what might as well be “bullet” holes and dents throughout the bodywork, but hey….. it’s a small price (well actually it’s a large price, but you get the idiom) to pay.

Then there is school. We pay nothing for decent schools in London. A poor child can study well and get all they need for a scholarship to Uni. I’m not saying that the Uni fees are not terrible in London, they are. But up until that point you can not complain about the standard of FREE schooling. I’d rather send my kids to Chechnya every morning than send them to the free schools here. You want top brass, you pay. International schools cost international prices and most of them are still rubbish anyway. A lot of the schools call them selves by international names when they are infact just Egyptian schools that run SATS or IG. Either way they fleece you for everything…uniforms, books, tuition, bus fares, stationary the whole lot. About three quarters of my money goes toward my kids schooling in some way or another. School isn’t where kids learn here in Cairo. It’s a business, an office owned by business men and women where kids go to read books, there is a difference. But if you can afford a good one, the level of education is better.

Oh and don’t get sick. Being sick costs money, having babies costs money. Seeing a doctor costs money. Going to hospital costs money. Health insurance is way to high. But, the dentist is much cheaper and the doctors visits are reasonable. I guess in the UK where healthcare, good healthcare too, is free, you can’t beat that.

All in all however, this is just too good. So when people ask me why I left a life of 5000 sterling a month in London to earn peanuts and borrow my mums car in Cairo I just giggle to myself. You know nothing.

The chills and shaking go. At least now you can act like a normal human being infront of others again. But inside the battle continues. “No,” you tell yourself, “I’m not going back on anti-biotics.” (Which, by the way are dished out like school dinners here in Cairo.) In Britain healthcare is free and medicines are free for kids and the elderly. Anti-biotics are not prescribed unless you are dying – so the temptation to jump on them when you get sick here is all too great.

A week later you can still feel it. Your chest is heavy. Your nose has a big number 1074 on it as it continues to ‘run’ the NY City Marathon. Your nostrils burn from the constant use of tissue. (I can’t find the one with balm in it) and you still cough like a jackal.

Yet another week passes and everyone around you is bored of listening to you moan about how you feel “unwell”. What you keep failing to realise is that they too are nursing the remnants of their own BCC.

Just as the phlegm and bogeys go from black, to green and then white, you realise that it’s been a month. A MONTH. Since you felt “normal.” Then it starts over.

I’ve got the BCC right now. Again.

However, this latest scandal in the Egyptian Lower House is particularly interesting because, well it’s smacks of intense…..stupidity more than anything else, and is well…..hilarious!

Anwar al Balkimy, an elected representative of the Salafi An Noor Party, became a victim of a carjacking. He appeared in hospital with terrible wounds to his face where mindless thugs, who stole $16,000 and his car, gave him a severe beating. He was shown on TV with his whole face bandaged up, with only his eyes and beard showing.

Anwar al Balkimy appeared on TV beaten half to death

This of course is very sad and caused uproar when it was first announced. The problem of carjackings in Egypt has grown substantially since the revolution last year. An old man who drives a taxi for my family was beaten up although he managed to remove a component from his engine to prevent the thugs stealing his livelihood. My sister in law was mugged just outside our house and my wife has not driven out by herself after dark for the past few months. Naturally then, the whole city was concerned and this event, this violent mugging of a decent law-abiding God fearing man just showed how vulnerable anybody could be. The police got involved and a large investigation opened with suspects having been rounded up.

“Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

- Sir Walter Scott

The problem is that just recently a doctor has appeared on TV and has angrily claimed that this same MP Anwar al Balkimy, was his patient and that bad beating he received was nothing but the usual wounds of recovery after a nose job (cosmetic surgery) which is what the doctor had treated him for. Hilarious!

Now as far as I can tell the story goes that Mr Al Balkimy, who is new to the seedy dark world of secular politics, naively thought that a touch up to his already great looks……………..would take a few hours and he’d be back to work. On realising that the wounds would give him away, he invented the lie about being carjacked. The lie, as they tend to do, spun way out of control and ended up involving national TV, radio, newspapers and public debate because of the issue of carjacking, which caught the attention of his surgeon.

Anwar al Balkimy MP - If only he had known then what he nose now

I have come to know the locals who pray there well. (Actually that is an untruth, I have come to know their faces well and quite a few names but…..language…..LEARN TO SPEAK ARABIC SAM….ITS BEEN LONG ENOUGH…..AND WHY ARE YOU CHASTISING YOURSELF IN FRONT OF OTHERS AND IN CAPS?……YES! BECAUSE YOU DON’T LISTEN DO YOU?….LEARN IT! ……..WOMBAT!” (Sorry about that – split personality….anyway, we digress.)

Anyway, what I have done is formed strong enough bonds with these men to be genuinely happy to see them everyday, sometimes five times a day on weekends! We smile, we greet, we sit together and read Qu’ran, we hug, we do the shoulder kiss (oh you have to know about the shoulder kiss, it’s far more humble than the cheek to cheek kiss – another post maybe) and more recently, when I’m leaving the mosque with one of them or if I meet them on route we………. hold hands.

Now! I’m not totally against it. I don’t pull my hand away or anything like that. I appreciate the affection that these lovely (and they really are, kind, generous and lovely people) are showing me as a stranger to their land, their neighbourhood and thus their lives, but I just have this……..all the way there or back this……… biting urge……. to pull my hand away because my British-ness just can’t deal with it.

British men don’t hold hands in public because it would automatically mean to others watching that you were gay (yes I went there). There is little chance of that in this case I know. I also know that it won’t  been seen by others as that. So why am I so uncomfortable?

The British-ness in me is a deep rooted cultural bed of issues that I was unaware I had and it still flowers, blooms at times, to my amazement. I can just about handle the arm cradling thing. You know what I mean right? The thing that distinguished gentlemen and ladies used to do in the west. I only ever see it now as movie and pop stars approach the walkway of the Oscars (have you noticed that too?). Here they do it all the time, but men do it too. I’ve even found (forced) myself doing it on a few occasions to show that I am culturally adapt. It was received well and I felt like I was fitting in, with my shep-shep, galabaya and fruit smelling scented oils on, walking arm in arm with a bearded local, older Egyptian friend.

Holding hands amongst Arab men is a deep sign of affection and respect, at least according to the New York Times and even the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia and George Bush were photographed doing it.

But I still draw the line at holding hands, especially with young men or those my age. My wife’s hand is petite and soft. It’s cute, like a child’s hand. My children are the same (when their hands are actually clean!). But holding a man’s hand?……nah. Sorry Cairo. Stiff ….upper…… lip and all that. It’s just not cricket.

Banner image credits

This post is part of The British-ness in me series.

For those of you who do not know, Dancing Matt is an internet phenomena that peaked in around 2008. He dances in a strange kind of “white boy” way (…..what? I’m sorry but what?……it’s not like you don’t know what I mean by that) in different places around the world.

I think Dancing Matt is a fun guy with a fun job and I applaud the effort he has made to make a living out of it. But if he had asked me, I would have said “Tahrir? Now? Dancing? White American chubby man? Nooooooooooo, bad idea.” Hindsight….wonderfful thing.

Anyway he came to Cairo, went to Tahrir and despite everything pointing a complete disaster, managed to get out pretty much unscathed and even with a few more fans. Egyptians, despite all that is going on in this country are very upbeat. Egyptians are for the most part complete comedians at the best of times, and will even crack a joke at the worst of times. That is not to say he didn;t have a close call. As you will see in the video, it nearly turned nasty.

Sandmonkey jumped on the bandwagon and drove it to Zamalek yesterday, inviting people via his twitter. By all accounts I have heard it went down well.  I have yet to find the video from that event although I’m sure it will surface soon.

I normally post events before they happen, but after one of my favorite and immensely dedicated bloggers Egyptian Chronicles informed me he was coming last week I thought, “Naaah, he’s not that silly.”

Apparently he was. Matt you get the LTC Award for Bravery Beyond All Reasonable Thinking. Enjoy the video.

Links

Dancing Matt’s Website

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRQPyTv0bV0

Ibrahim was born on 9th December 2011 in the American Hospital, Heliopolis, Cairo, by cesarean section. He was 6lbs at birth and has since ballooned to about 20Lbs (Come on my son!!!) He cries 24 hours a day and stops only to eat and sleep. His poor mother has had no sleep for 2 months now and the weather in Cairo has been so bad that poor Boobu has had a cold the entire time and is now suffering from a chest infection. But Alhamduillah he is coping well.

So what was it like having a child in Egypt? Well…….the hospital was…..OMG the doctor really…..and then there was the woman next to us who nearly died……and the staff and their tips it was…….but at least we have managed to get him an Egyptian birth certificate……… that’s a few posts at least so you’ll have to stay tuned I don’t have time right now Beebo is crying. Just so you know, because I will refer to him in many ways, his name (Ibrahim) has been shortened to the following, by the following:

Beebo – Grandmother

Bubba – Me

Ibs – The other 3 kids

Ibso – His mother

Boobu – His mother

Ibby – His Aunts and Uncles (it’s sooooo British to take the first syllable and add an ‘eee’ sound to make a nickname.

You can see from the pics he has changed so much in 11 weeks. I wish I had better pictures. With the other 3 girls I took loads of pictures, well I took loads with the first, quite a few with the second, some with the third and quite frankly…..we haven’t had the time. How bad is that? But if you have 3 or more kids you will know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.

And at night….oh boy was she hot. There were days when the sweat would pour down my face and chest. I would literally moan and groan all night. She was relentless, over-powering, she “got” me and loved her. We were……

But now…..what cold b&*^h she has become. It’s been months since we shared a hot night. Lately, she has been really wild – OMG you should have seen her a couple of days ago! Raging, throwing dust and sand and rubbish in the air, rattling windows, banging doors…al araf da? I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen her storm off, but this is different. She’s been cold for a while now and every time I complain she starts with the water works, pour, pour, pour. She turns dark and sullen, damp, dull….and now…..now she is just……..cold.

Is it me? Do I just choose to be where my love will be unrequited? Am I forever destined to be treated with the cold-shoulder? London was the same with me. She was cold as ice. I thought Cairo and I were different. What a fool I’ve been.

There may be hope. If she changes how she has been lately. I’m serious…..she needs to warm up or I really will look elsewhere. I’ve been loyal. Yes I was in Alexandria…but I came back. I’m going on a school trip to Luxor soon…..I don’t mean to threaten our relationship but YOU started this in December ……..it’s March for heaven’s sake!

It’s not that I’m greedy….I think. Maybe I am! OMG….am I greedy? Why is it that when I open my packet of crisps at work I do not go around to each and every person in the room and offer then some before eating any myself? The Egyptians at my work place do. I’ve been offered everything from tangerine segments, dates, chocolates, biscuits, breadsticks (that is a share it favourite amongst Egyptians – they bring them in the carrier-bag-load…..bless ‘em) and all sorts of other things which I tried (though I had no idea what they were at the time) under the pressure of the typical Egyptian “would you like some?” which is actually a disguise for “Here! Take!…..I SAID TAKE!………T-A-K-E it!……..I can do this for a lot longer than you can possibly imagine so just TAKE IT……..gooooood….that’s it……see…..you took it…..now eat it and say it’s nice……SAY IT -” anyway you get the picture. See how I am making the gracious and admirable trait of offering food to others sound negative? I’m doing it to make myself feel better about the fact that my British-ness won’t let me and quite frankly I am a little bit ashamed.

I make my own sandwiches at home and take them into work. I make enough for myself. I eat alone at my desk and I love it. I love chomping into my ham (turkey slices) and cheese sandwich made with a light salad and generous helpings of Helman’s mayonnaise. I love to eat this with a packet of crisps and a drink. I’m hungry and I don’t want to share. I have waited all day for lunchtime to come and if I’m honest…..I just want to be left alone. But Egyptian etiquette won’t allow it. Everytime I unwrap my sandwich and line my jaws up for an attack I feel the uneasiness of someone within my “space” (another very British trait). “Would you like some- ” – “NO!…… I’m sorry but NO….go away…..please?….please….it’s not that I don’t like what you are offering – I’m sure it’s nice……it’s just I don’t want to share mine……I only made enough for me and if I take what you are offering – I’ll have to offer you my food…..so let’s not do this…..let’s just eat our own food and…..”

Well that is what I want to say but of course I actually say thank you and then offer some of my food, which is declined but I have to insist, because if I give up insisting it means I wasn’t really trying to offer in the first place and that makes me look really, really bad so I carry on offering, begging, pleading for someone to take away the very food that I don’t really want them to have any of in the first place!!!!

The British don’t share packed lunch. It’s a personal, very individual delight. If I tell anyone that – I will sound so mean and self centered that I just have to put up with all this “sharing”.

……actually I will…..I love top 10s. Here is my Top 10 “Little Things” to sort out for any new government in Egypt. (Because my mother told me…”Son, sort out the little things and the big things will take care of themselves” – or at least I think it was her….could have been something I heard in an advert….or in a film?…..hmmmm…..it’s odd…I could have sworn it was her…..but now I just can’t be sure if I am imagining it…you see it’s not the sort of thing she would say….at least not in those exact words with her deep West African accent…maybe if I add ‘ohhhh’ to it – like…..”If you sort out da little tings ohhh…den da big tings will not bodda you ohhhhh”. Nah. I think I heard it on TV. Sorry I digress……

Ok here we go.

10 Tar the roads and put drainage in.

Yes, an easy one to start. Just a little thing, but one that would make so much difference. It rarely rains in Cairo, but when it does the city turns to mush. Tar the roads and put drainage in. Please.

9 Public unrination

Come on new government this should be a capital crime. You see …I’ve been there. I think we all have…right? Dying to pee? Outside? No where to go? But….I always find somewhere, you always find somewhere don’t you? You start looking the moment you get that first tingle – that warning, the one that tells you that in 15 to 20 minutes you are going to be desperate. I do. I get the warning. I don’t just park up and relieve. It’s not nice. It’s what dogs do, need I say more?

Look. After nearly 2 years I have come to love Cairo over London and thus Egypt over England. But there are things that Egypt can and must learn from England….like punish people who pee in public. In England they have started getting them to wash it themselves. Yes! Really! Check it out here.

8 Half finished buildings

Now….Mr. Minister of Parliament, let me help you with this one because you obviously have your hands full. Here is what I would do. Anyone who has a half finished building has just 1 year to finish it…..or it will be knocked to the ground and turned into a grassy play area for children, or a car park. Simple. If you have never been to Cairo you may think this is harsh. If you live in Cairo you will completely understand. Don’t bother voting for me now…..the elections are over and quite frankly I’m too scared of  - The Judgement  - to lead a people. Mine is simply to advise. Haha. Hah. ha. hmm. Hehe….

7 Wetting the floor for no reason other than to wet the floor

Yes you know what I mean. You’ve seen it too. The bawab does it in the morning and just after maghrib. The man that sells the “print while you wait business cards” on the side street in Attaba market does it. The guy who owns the cafe opposite the bank in Maadi does it. Every single coffeshop  or sheesha bar owner does it. Let’s all wet the ground and pretend we have a good reason for it. My bawab tells me it is to stop dust billowing up on to the side of the cars he has just cleaned. I believe him. It’s a reasonable explanation at least it would be….IF THE GROUND WASN’T ALREADY SOAKING WET FROM HIM WASHING THE CARS!!!!…..ehem…I’m sorry about that…I don’t know what came over me. So, anyway, lets just get a bucket of water and a cup and lets fill the cup from the bucket and do this showey offey throw of water as far from where we stand with our showey offey wrist movement to show we have it down as an art better than the bawab across the street. Yes I know it turns the road to mush and that will stick to everyone’s shoes for the rest of the day, but hey…. its the wet the ground thing that we do and it’s very, very important that we do it….everyday.

6 Litter

Where do I start? Are you comfortable minister? You look tired. I’ve talked about litter before so I’m not going to make a song and dance about this, plus you all know what it’s like and you all hate it just as much if not more than I do. It got so much better after the revolution and I was so proud of everyone and especially the young people who came out with their black bin bags and collected it all and with their paint brushes with the black, white and red paint, painting the pavements in the national colours. Ahhhh. It was sweet. It was charming. It WAS SHORT. And now it has gotten worse. YES WORSE. Stop shaking your head – I’m not asking your opinion – get your own blog. When I want your opinion I’ll give it to you (love that one – you can have it – I got more).

YES IT’SWORSE. Before at least the things I saw on the side of the road were…..normal. You know….household litter, piles of food, nappies, piles of sand, wood, clothing, the odd dead rodent…even dog. But a horse? H-O-R-S-E horse! A whole horse? You mean someone thought….oh no….my horse has died….I know….I’ll throw him in the bin? Now where is that?…..Hmmm….oh yes……it’s just anywhere outside……ok then liiiiifffffffft…. and….. doooown!  There we go. Bye. And the remarkable thing is that it has been a week and no-one has moved it.  Of course the bin men haven’t moved it. Why?…..well for one thing it can’t be sold on.  And number two….oh who needs a number two. Don’t be fooled by the picture, it was taken about 4 minutes drive from my house, not somewhere out on the desert road…no…trust me…this is local residential! I’ve seen it every morning for a week, on the bus on the way to work. Pass me that lemonade. Mmmm, is that real lemons? Lovely.

Picture of the horse - Warning Dead Horse

5 Pavements

Oh pavements. Sidewalks. Please get some for us. The people voted you in. Be kind and give them some where to walk. And make it a sidewalk slightly elevated from the height of the main street. Not 3ft higher. It’s not a stage. We are pedestrians, we’re not putting on a play. Don’t make it so high that when people park a car next to the sidewalk they can not open the car door.  Just think….It would mean that parents could walk with their children to the local kushk and buy them sweets. Mothers could push prams (buggies) without having to stop every 30 seconds to lift the whole pram into the air to get up onto or down from the sidewalk. Old people and the disabled could actually get about on their own. I know! Amaaaaazing! You have the power now. Use it.

4 Traffic Police

You see minister…it’s simple. Get some. No…we don’t have some already. What we have are normal police who sometimes deal with traffic incidents like giving out tickets without actually giving out the ticket so that the driver gets fined when he goes to renew his car registration. I mean, who ever heard of such a thing? Most human rights are a load of nonsense, I think…. personally. I mean, what right has one man to decide what another man’s rights are, let alone hold the whole world to them? I’m biased though because I believe only God can judge us, but I may be tempted to make an exception in the case of traffic fines in Egypt. It should be made a human right to be told when you have committed a traffic offense and not simply be written down by some “fuul in baladi bread” munching – dress like the brown guy in the 70s cop series Chips – we used to be respected once – my trousers are waaaaaay to small – policeman. How is that in anyway on this earth FAIR? I’m going to write in about it. I’m not Egyptian – I don’t have an ID card. I can’t vote. But I can write. Here is the letter…

3 Noise

Would you like another tea minister?….Same again wela maraa di bi leben?  Wahid shay bi Nana lowsamaht…..la-a….sukr barra. It’s coming….My pleasure.  As I was saying…just a little thing…….noise. (No don’t read it again – its just….Sam-isms.)

I’m not trying to change Cairo. I love it. I love the hustle and bustle. I love the fact that people are out and about all hours of the day and night. It’s alive. It’s got life and character. It breathes. We don’t, we cough and splutter, but Cairo breathes at all hours. No I have no problem with that. It’s the unnecessary  noise, made by thoughtless people that I have a problem with.

Take the school bus that arrives to collect the children across the street as an example. The children know what time you come. You come everyday at the same time. The children do not need to BE BEEPED OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AS SOON AS YOU PULL UP – UNTIL THEY ARE SAT IN THEIR SEATS!!!!!! Ehem….excuse me. Then there is the guy that sells the bags of candy floss and blows the funny whistle thing to let the children know he has arrived. We can hear you. We could hear you three or four buildings away. You don’t have to blow it WITH EVERY FLAMING STEP YOU TAKE – FOR THE LENGTH OF THE ENTIRE STREET….and the same goes for the guy in the truck with the loudspeaker who is collecting old bread. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ANYWAY?…..and why are you collecting old mouldy bread?

Then there is the wedding…..this one I actually don’t mind. I understand this one. It is part of Islam to let the neighbours know that a walima (wedding party) is taking place. it lets them know when they see this single man or woman, suddenly in cahoots with a partner, that this is all above board and legal. I get it. I love it. But why do you need to have 8 cars outside beeping? WHY? WHY? DO – THEY  - HAVE – TO – BEEP – FOR 3 HOURS!!!!!! WE GET IT! THERE IS A WEDDING! MUSIC! CHEERING! AND THAT WLWLWLWLWLWWEEEEEE THING! BUT BEEP BLOOMIN’ BEEP? WHY?

I’m not even going to mention the guy that comes around banging on the umbooba (gas cylinder), or the beeeeeeeeeekya guy, or the guy that comes round shouting for knives that need ironing….oh no…I’m not mentioning any of them…because then I’d just be going on…and on…and on…

It should be illegal to make unnecessary noise at unacceptable hours of the day or night. The fine? You should be made to stand silently for 4 hours in the street where you made the noise…or something….oh I don’t know…..just….stop it…..stop it…please.

2 The big smoke

I live on a mountain. I can see the whole of Cairo if I drive to the end of my street – let me re-phrase that – I would be able to see the whole of cairo from the end of my street, but instead I see a big black cloud of smoke over Cairo. Sort it out. Get a system of checking car engines so the cars that were built in 1910 and the ones being driven with banana juice for fuel are forbidden from being on the road. It’s ridiculous the pollution in this city. My children have all become asthmatic since coming here. Ok they were already prone to it but being in Cairo has made it 10 times worse. It’s just wrong. There are micro-buses that just look like a ball of smoke as they approach. The black fumes billowing out the back are unbelievable!  Every time I go out into the city from the mountain and get back  MY BOGIES ARE BLACK! What is that about?

It’s killing us slowly. You’re in charge now. Deal with it.

1 – THE WINNER

Institutions of Accountability

This is where it gets serious. Schools…do what they like because they are private. So do doctors and pharmacies and countless other public service institutions. The problem is….no-one is checking on them. Where is the standard that each one has to uphold for the sake of public safety? The amount of times a pharmacy has sold me an inappropriate medicine is unbelievable. My wife was promised that the level of hydrocortisone in the cream she bought to treat my daughter’s eczema was safe, only to find that it was so strong it made her skin fade. “Really?….oh sorry……..trrrrrrry……this one!” is the reply. NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Where is the ombudsman? Where is the office of medical thingy….that I write to and complain? Where is the office that holds all the records of schools performances?…. teachers that abused children?….nurseries that gave all the kids food poisoning?……policemen that took bribes?…

Without institutes of accountability we, the public are just walking a tight rope, destined to fall prey to some joker’s apathy or inadequate training. Anyone can advertise themselves as anything and with the right amount of funding, fool others into buying into a service that he or she can not actually deliver. It leads to corruption, bribery and quite frankly, poor service and poor product and forces people to look outside Egypt for something better. You want a product that will last you? Buy foreign made! Why? It shouldn’t be like that! Road vendors should have a permit to say that they have been taught about germs and hygiene and that the meat they are selling was not dead on the side of the road before they cooked it. Maybe then less people would get sick. Drivers should have to pass a test to get a license. Maybe then less people would be killed on the road. Schools should have to adhere to structured guidelines for hiring staff and teaching methods so that children are safe and well educated even at the free schools. Why should some fat guy with money be allowed to open a school and hire anybody he likes to teach anything he wants.

It’s just a little thing. But if someone finally takes charge in Egypt with Egyptians and Egypt as their focus and their priority over getting rich and being bowed to by poorer people or hugged by American presidents….then maybe…just maybe…the big things will take care of themselves.

It’s at that point that something suddenly ‘clicks’ for me. I don’t read Arabic very well, I’m slow and I do not have enough vocab tied down to make sense of everything. But lately I have been inundated with leaflets and flyers from potential voting candidates. Each one, or group, next to a picture of themselves, has the most peculiar image.

I unravelled two in my hand, given to me moments before by a young boy outside the mosque. On one of them I saw two symbols representing individuals. One was a shirt. Yes a shirt. Not a drawing of a shirt – a picture of real shirt. The other was a table. A real table.

I understood without being told that these are to help the millions who can not read in this country to recognise the person they wish to vote for when they get to the ballot box. But I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I have just never seen or heard of the like in all my life. Granted, it’s genius…how else could you solve the problem? But one thing still puzzles me…well two things…well actually three things but lets stick to two because I’m supposed to be getting ready for work and if I carry on typing about the number of things that actually puzzle me….I’m still doing it aren’t I?

What puzzles me is if you can not read the flyer which tells you what the candidates stands for, why would you bother looking for the shirt or table on the ballot paper anyway? I mean, for this whole pictionary, (modern day hieroglyphics) thing to work surely you would have to add more symbols which together describe your manifesto.

Here’s one I made earlier:

Bored? Pick me.

Here is a real flyer.

This is for the Hizb An Nour (Party of Light) – their symbol is a lantern (tabban) can you see it in the top right hand corner? I’m not endorsing anyone by the way – I’m just showing you one as an example.

If you’re here in Cairo, go outside and check them out, you may not have consciously noticed them before.

I’ve been trying to decide which symbol I would choose if I were standing for election. I think I would use my marketing genius and go for…..a juicy, succulent, soft roast chicken with crispy skin. Come on….think about it….You’ve been standing in a line all this time waiting for your turn to cast your vote. People pushing and shoving, moaning, complaining. You had to rush out because you wanted to get a good place. You are tired and flustered and Aunty Lafisa can not look after the children all day….and….. if you didn’t vote you would have been fined (yes apparently that is the case)…so you finally pick up the ballot paper and begin to look for your favourite….. Ahmed….what was his name?…..Ahmed El..something………Oh….. the one with the..the……..table symbol….where …is….he?…..not him…….not him….not them…….ooh wait! Hello……What is this?……Mmmmmmmm chickeeeeeen.

Hm? Eh? You with me now?…….Genius! (You can have that one – I got more).