Beyond, PDF, CD

S ocial
K
The
ingdom of
Writes: Amal Mounir
It is 09:45 am, the weather in the streets of Cairo was not
so cold, the winter is almost over and the tickling winds
of spring are what we wake up to. The Egyptian traffic
is unbearable as usual and the horn is the official way
for drivers to express their anger towards the situation.
In one of the Egyptian cabs, an old man is attempting to
cope with the Egyptian driving style.
A struggling hand with some rebelling veins holding the
wheel, a graybeard, white hair and few black shades
that are trying to survive, an outfit that was meant to
rhyme, and a chair that squeaks every time he changes
the gear. He is barely looking in the rearview mirror, his
voice is still sleepy and his face is uncertain about his
age but years are marked on it. He is one of the Egyptian
taxi drivers who insist on living; for that he painted
his black taxi to a white one in order to grab customers.
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W
White
heels
Few days in the cab & microbus drivers’ lives.
Since 2009, the theme color of the Egyptian cabs turned
white, by the decision of the Minister of Finance then,
and his initiation in the Vehicle Scrapping and Recycling
program targeting Greater Cairo taxis, the black and
white taxis were replaced gradually and a small number
stayed. But with the advantage of a fixed meter that the
white taxis offer, people became so picky when riding
a taxi and the remaining black cabs became no one’s
choice.
The old man seemed to be peaceful and quite, he was
not planning to get into quarrels about the fees. Unusually
he did not speak much; he was not even curious and
did not seem to care about anything. All he wanted is living
just like many others. Maybe he was not that old but
the burdens I saw on his shoulders made him gain years
over the ones he has.
05:18 pm, a good weather and surprisingly a good traffic.
In a white cab near Ramsis a Mid-forties was having
his lunch. Three homemade sandwiches and a pack of
cigarettes were part of his survival kit, and in order to fill
the silent gap the radio is always on.
Similar to many of his colleagues he is a talkative person,
who has formed many opinions about the country
and about what is going on. His job made him somehow
a careless person but he learned to share his thoughts
with the customers who are willing to chat.
This man works for 10 hours daily, he drives through the
Egyptian busy streets, hoping that any changes hit the
road. He has witnessed the Mubarak era, the revolution
and he is now against Morsi’s strategies. He is afraid
that we are losing our sources specially the manpower;
“Working is how we will be able to develop and build our
country, but people have stopped working a long time
ago.” he said.
09:39 am of the following day, a brand new morning the
traffic is terrible, the cars are jammed, people are standing
everywhere waiting for rides or walking to their stations,
but it’s not everyone’s lucky day.
A live conversation between two taxi drivers, the first
driver is wondering if people are still sleeping and the
2nd one is trying to ease it on him by sweet talks and a
good luck wish. The 2nd driver then moved toward his
destination, honking every few seconds, swinging left
and right between cars. He vanished in the road, leaving
the space for another mean of transportation to appear.
The first days have gone, leaving the way for another
day spent with microbus drivers. At 10:00 am, various
faces are standing, waiting for a passing bus to return
their calls “Dokki ya Usta?” they said. A harsh loud voice
replies with an annoying “yes”, taking customers in with
an unwelcoming spirit. He is an early thirties microbus
driver, who is known by the nickname “Mangesto”. The
moment you get in to his car you will notice his high temper,
scary look and rough features that are surrounded
by permanent bruises. His constant anger is translated
in the way he drives; Drugs is his pre-driving routine and
recklessness is his style.
03:30 pm, the sun is blazing at the top of a grey sky covered
with smokes and cars’ exhausts. A new bunch of people
are looking for another carriage to take them over to
their stops. Moments later, a white rectangular vehicle approached,
where Karim, 24 years old, is taking the wheel.
Karim’s inherited-neat-old car is a reflection of what he
is. He is a hard working person in a land of predators,
who has not chosen to live this way but the car chose
him and offered him a job. Unlike what “Magnesto” represented,
Karim is a good figure. He tries to make every
possible benefit out of his car and his driving is good and
calm. Luckily, the contagious microbus drivers’ attitude
has not infected him.
The white is taking over. The cycle goes on;
the days are repeating themselves, with different
stories and similar faces. They still have
hope, willing to survive and seeking for their
happiness in the roads of life. Their stories
represent a big part of our society, a part that
we cannot ignore.
Each one of us have similar scenarios, we go
through life traffics, and face hopeless situations
but tend to move on and work hard, we
are sometimes careless and sometimes talkative,
some of us are good and some are controlled
by the devil. Every one of us is holding
his own driving wheel, wandering through the
horizon, turning the music on in order to create
an isolate atmosphere. And the rounds go on
and on.
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