Thursday, May 12, 2005
Cairo-City life-Sept 18, 2002
Asking anyone what they love about the city they live in is an interesting exercise. In America, you would expect to hear answers from “the weather,” “the low cost of living,” to “job opportunities” and “the tree-lined neighborhoods,” to “the low crime.” Asking people in Cairo this same question is different. You definitely don’t get the same kinds of responses, but one thing you do hear that I’ve never heard in reference to an American city is passion in their voices. People who love Cairo, really, really love Cairo.
But when you ask for specifics, they tend to shy away. Mainly they cite the fact that you can find anything you want here – meaning consumer products. So for Cairennes, the true sign of “making it” is consumerism. The fact that you can buy Giorgio Armani sunglasses in Cairo means the city has arrived, so to speak.
The truth is, there is much to love about this city that has nothing to do what you can buy here. The problem is that Cairennes don’t place a premium on these lovable attributes. The Nile, for example. It’s amazing. This river is laden with so much history. It has literally fed centuries and centuries of hungry bodies. Its breezes make the city’s dreadful air slightly more breathable. But the amount of pollution in the river is so shameful. And the only groups that cry out are outside NGOs and environmental groups, not the citizens. Another example, the Egyptian museum. This museum is home to some of the world’s most famous antiquities. And yet the museum is run down, the names of displays are misspelled or worse, mislabled entirely. The art is not being properly protected in regards to the damaging climate and air conditions. The museum’s hours are haphazard and unreliable.
If I had to come up with a slogan for the city of Cairo in the 21st Century, it would be “Cairo: A City of Lost Potential.” There’s a sense of constantly caring only about the short-term, and not the long-term. Things around the house are fixed halfway with tweaks here and there, and then they break again after a couple of weeks. The electrician came to fix our fuse box — which was a fire hazard with its melting wires — and destroyed the paint on the wall. Now we are waiting for a painter to come by. We also discovered that since the new fuse box was put in place the doorbell only works when the foyer light is on. Things at my office get the same treatment. Everyday, we run out of toilet paper by 3 p.m. And instead of buying a 24-pack to last for a week, they supply us with two-packs on a daily basis. Same problem with the copier. And the fax machine.
Sometimes I think this short-term outlook is by design. It keeps people like the office boy employed. And the street cleaners who simultaneously sweep up trash and then litter by tossing out their cigarette butts. Construction jobs seem to be the same. My Egyptian friend and neighbor Ihab says that on any given day a street will get freshly paved and the next day it gets dug up because the first crew forgot to lay some cable or pipes. And at the end of the tear-up job, they run out of money to re-pave. So what are you left with? Good intentions, but a crappy road.
(Speaking of good intentions, did you know that in Islam the intention of praying is just as good as an actual prayer?)
We’ve also been sadly disappointed in the music scene. As world-music buffs, we were expecting to be exposed to interesting music. But, alas, this is something you have to hunt for. Most modern, young Egyptians listen to the worst of the worst Western music like (I apologize now for whomever I am about to offend) Britney Spears, Celine Dion, Marc Anthony, Shakira and Ricky Martin. These are pretty much the only acts that have made it across the ocean from the US. And Europe has only given Egypt dance music.
The sad part is that Arabic music is actually really amazing. In my opinion, it is one of the most creative things to have come out of this culture. It’s so different from anything you hear in America. Next time you get a chance, listen to some of these singers and tell me if you don’t agree: Rachid Taha, Khaled, Sawt Al-Atlas, Amr Diab, Hakim and Mohamed Mounir.
These musicians have mixed old classical Arabic music that uses the patented sliding string sound with modern French rap and hip-hop rhythms. They call this type of music rai (“opinion” in Arabic). The lyrics tend to be of a political nature. Rai has been around for decades, but today’s rai has incorporated so many other sounds. Oh, and the best place to hear this music for the least amount of money? In a Cairo taxi of course.
The other problem with finding good music is technology. CDs and CD players are not the standard here. It’s still cassette tapes. And who still has one of those? In desperation, I bought a cassette player last week at Radio Shack. And that night, Davin and I went on a search for some Arabic music on tape. We found a music store close by and I bought a tape by Cheb Mami. You’ve probably heard his music. He is the voice in the background of Sting’s song “Desert Rose.” Anyway, after listening to the tape a couple of times, I accidentally pushed “record” instead of stop and recorded over the tape.
But when you ask for specifics, they tend to shy away. Mainly they cite the fact that you can find anything you want here – meaning consumer products. So for Cairennes, the true sign of “making it” is consumerism. The fact that you can buy Giorgio Armani sunglasses in Cairo means the city has arrived, so to speak.
The truth is, there is much to love about this city that has nothing to do what you can buy here. The problem is that Cairennes don’t place a premium on these lovable attributes. The Nile, for example. It’s amazing. This river is laden with so much history. It has literally fed centuries and centuries of hungry bodies. Its breezes make the city’s dreadful air slightly more breathable. But the amount of pollution in the river is so shameful. And the only groups that cry out are outside NGOs and environmental groups, not the citizens. Another example, the Egyptian museum. This museum is home to some of the world’s most famous antiquities. And yet the museum is run down, the names of displays are misspelled or worse, mislabled entirely. The art is not being properly protected in regards to the damaging climate and air conditions. The museum’s hours are haphazard and unreliable.
If I had to come up with a slogan for the city of Cairo in the 21st Century, it would be “Cairo: A City of Lost Potential.” There’s a sense of constantly caring only about the short-term, and not the long-term. Things around the house are fixed halfway with tweaks here and there, and then they break again after a couple of weeks. The electrician came to fix our fuse box — which was a fire hazard with its melting wires — and destroyed the paint on the wall. Now we are waiting for a painter to come by. We also discovered that since the new fuse box was put in place the doorbell only works when the foyer light is on. Things at my office get the same treatment. Everyday, we run out of toilet paper by 3 p.m. And instead of buying a 24-pack to last for a week, they supply us with two-packs on a daily basis. Same problem with the copier. And the fax machine.
Sometimes I think this short-term outlook is by design. It keeps people like the office boy employed. And the street cleaners who simultaneously sweep up trash and then litter by tossing out their cigarette butts. Construction jobs seem to be the same. My Egyptian friend and neighbor Ihab says that on any given day a street will get freshly paved and the next day it gets dug up because the first crew forgot to lay some cable or pipes. And at the end of the tear-up job, they run out of money to re-pave. So what are you left with? Good intentions, but a crappy road.
(Speaking of good intentions, did you know that in Islam the intention of praying is just as good as an actual prayer?)
We’ve also been sadly disappointed in the music scene. As world-music buffs, we were expecting to be exposed to interesting music. But, alas, this is something you have to hunt for. Most modern, young Egyptians listen to the worst of the worst Western music like (I apologize now for whomever I am about to offend) Britney Spears, Celine Dion, Marc Anthony, Shakira and Ricky Martin. These are pretty much the only acts that have made it across the ocean from the US. And Europe has only given Egypt dance music.
The sad part is that Arabic music is actually really amazing. In my opinion, it is one of the most creative things to have come out of this culture. It’s so different from anything you hear in America. Next time you get a chance, listen to some of these singers and tell me if you don’t agree: Rachid Taha, Khaled, Sawt Al-Atlas, Amr Diab, Hakim and Mohamed Mounir.
These musicians have mixed old classical Arabic music that uses the patented sliding string sound with modern French rap and hip-hop rhythms. They call this type of music rai (“opinion” in Arabic). The lyrics tend to be of a political nature. Rai has been around for decades, but today’s rai has incorporated so many other sounds. Oh, and the best place to hear this music for the least amount of money? In a Cairo taxi of course.
The other problem with finding good music is technology. CDs and CD players are not the standard here. It’s still cassette tapes. And who still has one of those? In desperation, I bought a cassette player last week at Radio Shack. And that night, Davin and I went on a search for some Arabic music on tape. We found a music store close by and I bought a tape by Cheb Mami. You’ve probably heard his music. He is the voice in the background of Sting’s song “Desert Rose.” Anyway, after listening to the tape a couple of times, I accidentally pushed “record” instead of stop and recorded over the tape.
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