Mad World III : Downtown

This issue of Mad World is dedicated to the journalists and bloggers who were imprisoned for using the freedom of speech we all should have.

Have you ever noticed how the average Egyptian brain-cell count plummets every year right around Ramadan? Well I discovered why. In my thinking about this, I realized that though we are oppressed and suffocated on a day-to-day basis, the biggest oppression comes in the most covert and devious form.

Another Thursday afternoon, another message from Frank the pigeon. Right on time this week! Oddly enough, all that the message said was ‘meet me downtown’. “Who is ‘me’?” I thought to myself. It obviously couldn’t be Frank; he was sitting right there in front of me. However, my blinding trust for Frank and his messages made me promptly put on some fresh pantyhose and hop into a taxi.

It was a fairly dusty day, with the weather starting to drop its blazing heat and shift towards a cooler autumn feel. This also meant that the wind was picking up, which anywhere else in the world brought about a lovely fresh breeze but here in Egypt it meant dust in your eyes and black garbage bags slapping into your head at 50 miles per hour. “Do you use any drugs?” the moustachioed driver bluntly asked after 15 minutes of awkward silence. “Erm…No. I don’t like to lose my awareness.” He let out a grunt, scratched his nuts and we didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip.

My mind began to wander as I mindlessly watched the Egyptian nightscape go by; lovers by the Nile, men selling flowers to the lovers, kids throwing exploding little firecrackers, the men selling flowers chasing the kids throwing firecrackers because they’re ruining their business by scaring the lovers, etc. Then we hit a god-awful traffic jam midway across one of the bridges. Twenty whole minutes of going at a pace slower than my dead grandmother until we finally reached the cause of the pileup; a police road block. There wasn’t anyone checking licenses, there pretty much wasn’t anyone there at all except a young traffic cop standing to the side smoking a cigarette, so why one earth would they have barriers blocking half of the bridge?? Why?? Why God why?!?!? I imagine myself getting out of the taxi with a bomb attached to my chest, exploding just as I jump into the barriers, setting all the Egyptian drivers free forever! Or at least until they bring in new barriers the next morning…

Finally I reached downtown, and that’s when my stupidity slammed into me like a truck. Not only did I have no idea who the person I was meeting was; I also had no idea where I was to meet them downtown. But considering that I found myself in the hustle and bustle of downtown Cairo I decided to do something I hadn’t done in ages, take a nice long walk by the Nile. Being that I wasn’t directly on the Corniche, I start heading in that direction, passing a few official government–looking buildings along the way. Just as I was crossing past one, two men briskly approach me, walking very similarly to the evil terminator in Terminator 2. “Hey you, where are you going?” one of them asks. “I’m sorry but…who are you?” I reply. “We’re undercover police, now show us your ID and tell us where you’re going and don’t give us a headache.” For a second I contemplate confronting them on their rude commanding manner, but then I decide not to when it occurs to me that they’re probably just ordered to do this by a higher ranking cop who treats them in the same disrespectful manner that they’re treating me. That, plus I’ve seen the online videos of men being raped with a stick in an Egyptian police station.

I tell them I’m going to take a walk by the Nile and hand them my ID. As one of them studies it and the other gives me a ‘we’re going to rape you with a stick’ look, I try to lighten the mood by making a joke about how bad I look in the picture. I get absolute silence and the continued glare, and then get the ID shoved into my chest and I’m told to not walk so closely to diplomatic buildings. Tough crowd.

Crossing big roads in Cairo is like playing a very well animated but also very dangerous video game. There are literally dozens of ways you can die, getting hit by a car is the least of your concerns. Have you ever wondered why we don’t have any Zebra crossings? Well, every guy who tried to paint them on the ground got trampled to death by passing people, donkeys and horses, that’s why. Anyway, I waited for about 5 minutes then ran across like a madman to finally reach the Nile. Now to finally enjoy one of the few great free things in this lovely country…

I decide to walk a little farther up the Corniche, away from the incredibly crowded section I had jumped into. As the people started to thin out I started to feel the kind of natural pleasure I hadn’t felt in ages, the sun setting, the wind (no black plastic bags that day), the soundtrack of children shouting and horns blaring in the background of my dissociated mind. I slide my hand over the cool rail as I slow to a standstill, taking in a lungful of relatively fresh air and the great view of the Nile. Just as I was allowing my thoughts to wander I started hearing someone call out loudly behind me. “Ya Ostaz! Ya Ostaaaaz!!”

I turn to find an old bawab-looking guy coming towards me and waving his arms manically. “Hmm”, I thought, “could this possibly be the guy I’m supposed to be meeting?” Well it turned out not; he was coming to tell me I can’t stand there. By the Nile. He told me I can’t stand there…by the Nile! “But why?” I pleaded. He explained in the most polite manner anyone had spoken to me that day that the traffic officer had told him that no one was allowed to stand right by the Nile, but I was, in fact, allowed to walk a few meters away. I am being completely honest, this actually happened!

I decided that I had no energy left to argue, so I thanked him bitterly and walked away. It was then that I felt I needed to take a seat after walking for so long and immediately spotted a Café right up the street. So I went, sat down and ordered a cup of green tea. My attention was instantly sucked into the blaring TV in front of me. Now I don’t personally own a TV because I believe it is a legitimately evil invention, but just this once I decided to watch to learn more about what Egypt spends its time watching.

And now, my dears, the point of this article. There is oppression on every corner, every intersection, even by the bloody Nile. Not for one second do they let you forget that we are in a self-imposed state of martial law for thirty years on. But you know what the greatest oppression is? The reason brain-cell counts especially deteriorate in Ramadan? That’s right, the media. Of course, it’s not enough that they cripple generation after generation with bad education that teaches us the system of obedience and corruption; they also consume the rest of our lives with incredibly superficial, retarded and one dimensional characters and plots in television programs that literally kill more brain cells than a daily dosage of heroin possibly can.

We, as Egyptians, have many fine qualities. Even those who seem like they’re part of the system are just doing their job, trying to survive like you and me. The only way change can even begin to happen is by rejecting the coma we are all forced into and start trying to change the upcoming generations. Because in all honestly, this is who I felt I met downtown, the future of Egypt. And it doesn’t look good.