A shout out for morals

This article was published in Campus magazine, April '13.

I am one of the lucky few who happen to work in Heliopolis. I used to live there too, but I moved to Rehab a year ago; which is not too far away, for at least I’m spared the Ring road, 6^th of October bridge and Mehwar. I’m spared the whole hassle of driving and usually take the Rehab bus to and from work, where I get on and off in Korba and go to my office from there. And let me say this; Korba is one of the best architectural places in Heliopolis, in all of Cairo in fact. The buildings are beautiful; the carvings in the balconies and on the walls are really a sight to look at, and the streets are well designed with the shades in front of shops for people to walk under; everything about it is just lovely. But just like everything we are so good at ruining - like downtown Cairo and Zamalek and even privately owned cities like Rehab - we have succeeded in "uglying" - if I may say - El Korba.

If you've been there recently, you’ll see that cafes now outnumber the people themselves, and it's not like there's any place to park around them, you either have to second park, preventing people from driving by smoothly; or go round and round the block till you find a parking space, causing more traffic jam in the already narrow streets.

But I wish this was all. The problem is that cafes and ... well, "el ahawy" are now taking up all the pavements - oh and STREETS as well - with their tiny tables and chairs and shisha. Why? No seriously, H-whyyyy?? It's a bad enough phenomenon in informal areas or “randomly built areas” (i.e. Nasr City, Mohandessin…etc). But why do that in Korba, one of the chicest places in Cairo? Why turn it into a s***-hole like this? And who gave them to right to do that anyways? How obvious is it that the street should be a PUBLIC property? Heck, even the pavements are a public property, but we seem to have forgotten this part ages ago.

Why should a girl like me walking in a straight line on a pavement suddenly find herself in the middle of a cafe where all men are staring at her and wondering why she's passing from here? I feel like screaming: "This is MY route people, YOU shouldn’t be sitting here" And if I skip the pavement, my other alternative is of course the street. I literally end up walking IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN STREET, risking being hit by cars, yelled and honked at, or worse, harassed (not that the pavements are any safer when it comes to this). And girls are not the most endangered here; what if an old man or woman, or even kid wants to walk down the street? Shouldn’t the pavement be their pathway? Or am I wrong?

The same thing goes for Zamalek and the Souq in Rehab - which has really become an eyesore, after having been part of an ideal city. The issue here is that it's both depressing and outraging! The fact that such beautiful and nicely organized places are turned into clogged streets filled with endless honking, reckless shop owners and angry people is quite depressing. And the fact that citizens are stripped even of their simplest right - to walk on a pavement - is more than just "quite" outraging.

I won't blab on about how the "government" is responsible for this - which it is - but I just want to point out that the lack of morals are the main problem here, it is the "root cause" in my opinion. Business men and even young entrepreneurs want nothing but to maximize their profit by serving a larger number of customers, regardless of where and how they will serve them, regardless of what they will ruin in the process, regardless of anything to do with the community as a whole - the only factor playing a role here is PROFIT, and nothing but profit.

Just like contractors who build humongous apartment buildings after tearing down nice little houses, not caring how it will look, not caring where people will park, not caring except for profit, and nothing but the profit.

This is a desperate shout out, not for the government to apply the already existing rules of not using the streets and pavements as a private property; but for the young business owners who supposedly want this country to be a better place and who know well that it’s only in their hands to make it better. It is a shout out to young customers like us to refuse to sit and be served on the pavement or in the streets, hoping that the trend will pass and café owners will get the hint. It is a shout out for thinking a little bit outside the “profit zone” and regarding the consequences our business activities have on the community.

This is a shout out for MORALS, and nothing but morals.

The Color Grey

I remember a time when all I knew was green and blue. 

Grassy green and navy blue; so earthy, so very true.

Those were the colors of my school uniform; the only place, if you ask me, to which I feel a sense of belonging, a loyalty that I have for no place else.

I was a part of it, just like its desks and chairs and chalk and blackboards. And it was a part of me, like my arms and legs and smiles and tears.

Things were simple back then, even the most difficult problems were simple. The fights and quarrels were simple, fun was simple, questions were simple.

"Should I do my homework before or after lunch? Pack my school bag before or after basketball practice? Should I tell my friend that this boy likes her? Should I tell the teacher that this boy is bugging me?" Mmmm...seemingly complex but utterly simple!

But I remember the colors as well. In Halloween, school was full of black and orange, not to mention all the colors of our costumes. At Christmas, Mrs Shahdan always dressed up as Santa Claus, passing by our classes, singing and giving out candy. Red, green and white cotton filled the corridor walls.

I remember the flaring colors of pom-poms when the boys played football against other schools, and when we danced in carnivals.

I remember seeing it all vividly, brightly. All the colors and shapes and feelings, so precise and clear. The only color I don't remember seeing is grey, the grey that we all live in now; not knowing if what we're doing is right or not, what we're seeing is true or not, what we're fighting for is worth it or not...

The colors have all been entangled, intertwined, merged and stirred. You can't see clearly anymore. The black and white do not exist, the bright has been dimmed and the dark is shining brightly.

We are swimming in a sea of grey, searching for clarity, wishing against all odds that the color we see now is the color that is true, fearing it probably won't be, but hoping it is.

The color grey is hectic, confusing, rarely true. I wish I could go back to the time, when I all I knew was grassy green and navy blue.

View from the Kitchen Balcony

Sometimes I sit in our tiny kitchen balcony, reading. And I look up at the sun shining above the roof tops and the clouds beautifully surrounding it. I don't know why at those times my mind keeps wandering and travels around to all the places that I've never been to, or been to a hundred times - inside my head. Like Italy, for example.

I gaze at the sun and the clouds and imagine myself on the balcony of a roof apartment in Italy looking up at the sun and down on the endless cozy buildings hugging each other and churches between them. I hear faint music coming from the radio belonging to the fat woman next door, the melody mixing with the delicious aroma of the risotto I know she's cooking for her family, and me. I smile at the beauty of the whole scene and wonder how much nicer it'll be when dinner is ready and I sit with the family around the table, make conversation with the little Italian I've learnt and taste the hot, rich mushroom risotto she's made.

For a second there my mind touches the ground when I hear a car honking in the parking, but I instantly let it fly again and before my eyes run fast images like the ones I see in movies; walking down the narrow clean streets with the sun shining and the weather beautiful, everyone around me smiling, laughing or singing. Cafe's are all around, preppy looking men and women drinking latte's and chatting, a noisy football match here, a crowded bar there, a monumental church, pasta and pizza and lots of friendly people. And me in the midst of all of it, a cheeky smile and a dreamy gaze never leaving my face; taking it all in, inhaling the charm of a country that I've never been to, believing that one day I'll go there and see everything that I've imagined just the way I imagined it.

I'm sitting there, my eyes far away from the book I'm reading, enjoying my daydream and thinking how much more interesting life really is inside my head when mum suddenly calls out for me to take out the garbage!

SNAP!