Malesh

I've started working part-time and that means I have started commuting part-time. I get stuck in the morning rush and try to grab coffee or dinner with friends at the end of the day to avoid participating in the evening rush. Sometimes I succeed. And sometimes, I sit in traffic, chewing on exhaust and trying to make conversation with my cab driver as gridlock eats us up for what seems like hours (most times it is hours...)

The standard cab fare from Zamalek - where we live - to the AUC campus - where we work -- is normally about 5LE (a little less than $1). When I first arrived, I made sure I knew just enough Arabic to make my way home and negotiate the appropriate fare. I constantly tried to find ways to get 5LE notes as change so that I could hoard cab fare. I was going to pay 5LE and not a piaster more.

The trick is to know how much is standard and how much you are prepared to pay, hand the money to the driver and walk away. If you turn back or hesitate, there's a long, loud, pointless negotiation for more money. And my Arabic just isn't strong enough for that.

Everytime I got in a cab, I would make sure the driver wasn't taking the scenic route to increase the fare. "Ya Mohammed, just because I'm going to the American University, does not mean I don't know how much this ride is going to cost". "No, no, turn left here -- it's shorter this way." "Why would you take July 26 at this time of day?" I was constantly on guard, lest someone tried to rip me off or take me for a "foreigner".

In recent weeks, I've begun to hear about rising food costs and shortages of daily staples. We work for an international institution, live in the most priviledged part of town and spend money like it's falling off a monopoly board. We are so far removed from the challenges of the average Egyptian, it is ridiculous, really. What we spend on a dinner with friends is often the monthly income of a local policeman or teacher.

Learning this has made me more philosophical in many ways. I no longer get angry at the cab driver or stress out if my ride is 30 minutes instead of 20. Malesh, we'll get there when we get there. Me sitting in the back of his cab squacking in my incomprehensible Arabic isn't going to clear the traffic. If we take the longer route, sometimes that means we move the whole time instead of taking the shorter route that literally soaks my every pore with lead and diesel exhaust. Sometimes it means we take the longer route and there's no upside, but there you go. At least I have the priviledge of being able to afford to be driven to and from my work.

Now, when the driver asks me for 10LE from campus to Zamalek, I don't argue. I just say ok and hop in their cab. And when I reach my destination, I do what I have always done: I get out, thank the driver, pay him and walk away.

I am probably not making an ounce of difference in the overall situation of the people around me. But I'm finding that my stress levels are lower. And that is worth the all the 5-10LEs notes I can find.

All photos and text copyright Sufia Lodhi 2008

Tried to make me go to Rehab

And the consensus is: No no no

Rehab is a gated community about 4kms down the road from AUC's new campus and a million miles away from our current life in Cairo.

Beautiful, clean and orderly. It is everything downtown Cairo is not. Even our idyllic Zamalek seemed utterly chaotic compared to Rehab. The wire fence and entrance gates are designed to keep out the riff raff (we only got in because we were on an AUC bus...) and as we drove around, I half-expected to hear classical music wafting through the air as the soundtrack to this carefully planned la la land. It reminded me a little of Sharjah -- convenient strip malls, concrete curbs and orderly sidewalks, grassy knolls and clear blue fountains.

"Breathing the air in Cairo is like smoking 40 cigarettes a day"

"One year of breathing Cairo's air can lead to cancer"

"Constant noise pollution causes depression"

"Did you know that all the traffic cops are impotent due to the high levels of lead in the air?"

Hmmm. Compelling reasons to move out into the 'burbs, no doubt. But I think to myself: if clean air was our only priority, surely we would have stayed in Canada, no?

And not to paint a completely negative picture of Rehab: I will admit that the clear sky, fresh air and subsequent ability to take deep breaths and open our windows are all appealling.... the palm trees (both natural and artificial) were pretty. And if I ever craved "Gauchos Argentina Grill", it would only be moments away.

After spending the day in Rehab, I felt a renewed love for Cairo stirring in my heart. Returning to the city, I found myself embracing the buzz of Cairo traffic, admiring it for still functioning despite the madness. I was proud of the four fully grown men ducking and diving through rush hour traffic on one small motorcycle. I gave props to the woman with six large boxes on her head, crossing a 10 lane motor way. In the wrong direction. While holding hands with several small children. I found that I was (could it be?) happy to once again be stuck in the middle of Cairo gridlock.

It may be chaotic and it may not always make sense. But Cairo is full of life, in your face and a constant source of entertainment, insight and inspiration. I would much rather live a life of thought-provoking frustration than a carefully planned, pristine life of certainty.

I guess it that same philosphy that has drawn me to live in the middle of some of the great cities of the world -- London not Richmond, Paris not Nieully, Manhattan not Larchmont, Toronto not Oakville.

No point in breaking the pattern now that we live in one of the most living, breathing, spitting, seathing cities in the world.