I remember feeling slightly overwhelmed being in Cairo. I have always been fascinated with Ancient Egypt, so to finally touch base was an achievement in itself. The abundance of smiles that greeted me as I walked out of the airport was a sign that I was no longer in Europe. It felt homey to be met with outright enthusiasm, even if most of it was to fleece an unsuspecting tourist. This was the kind of life I was used to, under no circumstance were you allowed to let your guard down to be hustled on the street. The golden rule of avoiding hustlers was to avoid direct eye contact at all costs and this is exactly what I had to constantly do throughout my stay in Cairo.
As I was driven through the filthy streets of Cairo, I saw a grave resemblance to India. Despite the heavy pollution and street side farm animals, the people seemed blissfully happy. Little girls all dressed in neat uniforms braved the busy streets en route to school and tired fathers rode their bicycles through narrow alleys to avoid congestions to work. Like a swarm of worker ants, the people of Cairo quite literally brought the city to life. I must have spent half my stay in Cairo being stuck in a traffic jam but it didn’t seem to bother me in the least as this was my time to simply stare out into the world of Egyptians.
First stop was of course the Pyramids of Giza. It’s funny how they built the town of Giza so close to the pyramids. One minute you’re amongst struggling skyscrapers and the next you see the top of a pyramid peeking through. Cairo seemed built to tease tourists. I kept catching glimpses of the pyramids, the thrill of what was around the corner kept me on the edge of my seat.
The first time I had full view of the pyramids, as cliché as it sounds, it took my breath away. Photographs had completely distorted the scale and size of these magnificent structures.
I wanted to do all things predictable, so a camelback tour around the pyramids seemed like the favoured choice. American tourists swamped the tour grounds in their extensive sun care regiments. Sun block smeared faces peeked from under Indiana Jones type hats and as the waft of rotting rubbish made the ‘white’ tourist pull funny faces, it simply amused me. A big, burly Egyptian with a moustache so thick it hid his entire lips, walked straight up to me and offered me a tour inclusive of horseback for half the price he quoted to the Americans, score!
My tour guide, a little Egyptian child slave and I set off for the pyramids. You heard right, child slave is exactly what it looked like, it makes me sick just thinking about it again. Each tour guide has a little handy helper, and this handy helper walks through the rough terrain of the dessert while we gallop so effortlessly by his side. I tried talking to this little boy, but he spoke almost no English and when I offered him some cold water, he refused as if he would be beaten if done so. Every time I smiled at the majestic sight of the pyramids up close I would look back down at the little boy and feel horrible. At this point I was endorsing this treacherous trade and for all my social responsibility awareness, this was something I thought I would never have anything to do with.
The pyramids were amazing even up close. The close attention to detail astounded me. I traced my fingers on the faded hieroglyphics and imagined myself in a world where I would have quite likely been forced to be a slave. A quick prayer of gratitude and I was on my way again.
Before I got off my horse, I tried to get the little boy away for a second to slip him a big tip but the tour guide must have been on to me as he watched me like a hawk. When I finally did give him a big tip, I saw the tour guide lick his lips in anticipation. Nobody will know if that little boy ever got paid that day but at the very least I can say I tried.
Hiç yorum yok:
Yorum Gönder