I miss the Eid break. No, am not overtly pious nor philanthropically inclined – I do my bit for charity.
But it is the eerie, almost apocalyptic silence that accompanies Eid in many parts of Cairo. First off, you are not awakened by the honking terrorist activities of the minibus drivers.
The hustle bustle of normal everyday metropolitan Cairo traffic seems to begin at a much later hour . if at all.
Taking a walk is sheer bliss. No swerving bikes or cars to contend with. No noise.
Taking the metro is also pleasurable, particularly around 8 or 9 am – an hour usually packed with commuters. Just you and a few people who seem to have picked up on the genius, if not novel, idea of riding the most popular – and cheapest – transportation system in the land.
The stations are eerily vacant . when the train pulls into one of them, tens of thousands of school children don’t pour in leaving almost no opportunity for those wanting to exit.
A drive from Heliopolis to Mohandiseein takes about 15 to 20 minutes; a ride from Maadi to Zamalek takes about 12 or so.
Ordering food from some of the fast food joints is amazing. They deliver in an absolute jiffy, which really doesn’t make sense since one would assume mom is at home, mom wants a day off from cooking.
Not my problem.
But in some areas of Cairo as the morning sun dips into the afternoon, Eid equates to absolute mass hysteria and chaos. For example, the Kasr El Aini Bridge is festooned with throng upon throng of Eid revelers standing alongside the cornice, promenade or on the bridge’s walkways.
They are so tightly packed that there is an inevitable traffic jam – almost no room for cars to weave their ways through the mass maze of human flesh.
People of all sizes and shapes, color and creed. All standing alongside the pedestrian walkways of the bridge, all looking at .
. what? What exactly are these thousands of people looking at? During Eid Al-Fitr more than two months ago I asked a taxi driver to please explain why these people flock to the Nile waterfronts.
What is there to see? Am I missing something? Is there a boat race? A beauty contest? Free beer or candy?
Many of those standing by the Nile are looking at the water . flow. It doesn’t make sense.
Is it a romantic spot? If so, how could it be when about six million people are vying for the very same spot you and Mona are standing in?
And then the shouts and screams of babies and their mothers chasing after them and the honking of cars for people to get out of the way. Not a romantic moment, if you ask me.
Not even a Kodak moment.
So what gives? The Nile in Cairo is likely one of the most polluted rivers in the world. So are people trying to spot a piece of garbage float on by?
Hmmm .
I thought vacations were meant to get away from it all, y’know, the insane mechanizations of the not-so-well oiled cycle of chasing after making a living for yourself and your family.
Instead, most people go to Sharm or Dahab or Hurghada with their friends, their co-workers, etc.
Want ever happened to wanting to spend a quite moment alone? And why go to some of the most popular destinations at precisely the very time they will be as overcrowded as a terrorist convention in Tora Bora?
It simply doesn’t make sense. It is as if society as a whole seeks to become claustrophobic. Reminds me of a Star Trek episode (James Kirk era for all you ST-TNG poseurs). A planet where the most prized commodity is individual space.
A planet where disease and death is to be coveted because there simply is no more room for everyone.
Cairo really feels like that some times. Little wonder many people are populating some of the new towns and suburbs dotting around Cairo.
I wonder what Cairo will look like in the 23rd century.
