Flag-Sellers in my adopted hometown Alexandria are still doing a roaring trade. Patriotism has become fashionable; some men wear flag lapel badges and the Egyptian standard flaps in the breeze outside apartments, including my own.
Most people I know are upbeat and cautiously optimistic about the future. Cafes that were deserted pre-revolution, primarily due to the disliked former governor’s unpopular ban on shisha, are now full to overflowing with tables covering sidewalks. Now there’s no fear of the municipality’s heavies whipping them away under some byelaw or the other.
Anyone who comes to Alexandria would instantly feel the party atmosphere. The smile-count is much higher than it used to be and it’s not unusual to hear the sound of firework displays. Everyone is suddenly proud to be Egyptian. One of the revolution’s byproducts has been a social leveling of sorts. I hear people being told off for using the honorary titles, “Bey” and “Basha” (Pasha).
There is far less sycophancy among the less well off who feel a greater sense of self-worth than they did before, as the massive crowds that took to the streets for 18 days were eclectic and classless. Women have also been empowered and are demanding more of a say after standing shoulder-to-shoulder with men to rid their country of corruption and oppression.
But when the surface is scratched, a less rosy picture emerges. The main problem is lawlessness. The police are still not out on the streets in any force and those that are hesitate to display too much muscle fearful of attracting a mob that will turn against them.
Tanks are still parked outside civic buildings, courts and five-star hotels like the opulent Four Season’s San Stefano and while the army will hunt down perpetrators of serious crimes like rape or murder, it doesn’t have the wherewithal to chase petty criminals or arbitrate disputes. Almost everyone you meet has a story of female shoppers who have had their handbags stolen by thieves on motorbikes or taxi drivers who have kidnapped passengers for ransom. In some cases, criminal gangs have occupied apartments while homeowners were away.
This sorry state of affairs has resulted in law-abiding citizens of every stratum of society purchasing handguns. You can occasionally glimpse them in holsters under men’s jackets. Indeed, just a few days ago, I saw one accidentally fall on the ground as a man got out of his car.
And yesterday afternoon, as I sat sipping hazelnut-flavored cappuccino in one of my favorite cafes, I bumped into Abdullah, a young Egyptian lawyer friend who had recently returned from Kuwait. I was surprised to see him walking slowly with a pronounced limp. “What happened to you?” I asked him. “Were you in a car accident?” “No, I’ve been shot,” he told me.
He went on to explain that the bullet struck his lower left leg penetrating the bone while he was walking out of a well-known trendy coffee shop minding his own business. “Why were you targeted?” I asked. “I wasn’t targeted,” he said. “An 18-year-old student was cleaning his gun on a tabletop when it went off by mistake.” Luckily for him, the prognosis is good. While I was aware that just about anything goes these days, I was nevertheless shocked to hear that teenagers have guns and have no worries about putting them on public display.
Every time I get into the passenger seat of a car, I get the sensation of playing Russian roulette with my life. Alexandrians have never been known for their disciplined driving but nowadays all normal rules of the road have been gaily abandoned. It’s so bad that half the time I close my eyes and try to visualize myself on a beach reading a book as speed maniacs weave in and out of the traffic.
A few days ago, a battered car without any number plates cut dangerously in front of us and the driver yelled out invective at mine. When shortly afterward we were level with him due to a traffic jam, my driver gave him a lecture on manners and told him that he shouldn’t be driving without plates. Indeed, before the revolution, he wouldn’t have been able to go more than 500 yards without being stopped and hauled-off to a police station. As it happened, he was Libyan; one of many who have fled their conflict-torn country for Egypt. “Listen friend, Libyans, Egyptians, we’re free to do what we like now, so just relax,” he said with a grin before speeding off once more.
A further consequence of such lack of official oversight is illegal construction. While the revolution was still in full swing, fellaheen working in the cities dashed back to their villages to build houses on agricultural land at breakneck speed. Whether the authorities will eventually demolish such illegal constructions or refuse to supply those homes with water and electricity is yet to be seen.
Farmers are also selling agricultural land at inflated prices to rogue construction companies. According to a resident of Diarb Negm, a village in the El-Sharqia Governorate near Cairo, 7,000 feddans of cultivated land has recently been concreted-over around his village alone. Owners of land within urban areas who have been unable to obtain building permissions for years or even decades have also been calling-in the diggers and tractors.
A high-rise is going-up right now at the end of my street and I know for a fact that the owner only has permission to build up to six floors according to road width. The plan is to present municipal authorities with a fait accompli in the hope that once families have bought apartments, they will be reluctant to tear it down.
However, I don’t think anyone is greatly concerned at the rule breaking; they know that this is a time of transition until elections take place in September. It’s unique and will probably never come again in their lifetime. My sympathies go to whoever manages to grab the top job. He’ll have a heck of job to rein in his people now that they’ve tasted “freedom’s” true meaning.
Linda S. Heard is a British specialist writer on Middle East affairs. She welcomes feedback and can be contacted by email at heardonthegrapevines@yahoo.co.uk.
RSS
Alexandrians between freedom and anarchy
Posted on April 21, 2011 by Linda S. Heard
Flag-Sellers in my adopted hometown Alexandria are still doing a roaring trade. Patriotism has become fashionable; some men wear flag lapel badges and the Egyptian standard flaps in the breeze outside apartments, including my own.
Most people I know are upbeat and cautiously optimistic about the future. Cafes that were deserted pre-revolution, primarily due to the disliked former governor’s unpopular ban on shisha, are now full to overflowing with tables covering sidewalks. Now there’s no fear of the municipality’s heavies whipping them away under some byelaw or the other.
Anyone who comes to Alexandria would instantly feel the party atmosphere. The smile-count is much higher than it used to be and it’s not unusual to hear the sound of firework displays. Everyone is suddenly proud to be Egyptian. One of the revolution’s byproducts has been a social leveling of sorts. I hear people being told off for using the honorary titles, “Bey” and “Basha” (Pasha).
There is far less sycophancy among the less well off who feel a greater sense of self-worth than they did before, as the massive crowds that took to the streets for 18 days were eclectic and classless. Women have also been empowered and are demanding more of a say after standing shoulder-to-shoulder with men to rid their country of corruption and oppression.
But when the surface is scratched, a less rosy picture emerges. The main problem is lawlessness. The police are still not out on the streets in any force and those that are hesitate to display too much muscle fearful of attracting a mob that will turn against them.
Tanks are still parked outside civic buildings, courts and five-star hotels like the opulent Four Season’s San Stefano and while the army will hunt down perpetrators of serious crimes like rape or murder, it doesn’t have the wherewithal to chase petty criminals or arbitrate disputes. Almost everyone you meet has a story of female shoppers who have had their handbags stolen by thieves on motorbikes or taxi drivers who have kidnapped passengers for ransom. In some cases, criminal gangs have occupied apartments while homeowners were away.
This sorry state of affairs has resulted in law-abiding citizens of every stratum of society purchasing handguns. You can occasionally glimpse them in holsters under men’s jackets. Indeed, just a few days ago, I saw one accidentally fall on the ground as a man got out of his car.
And yesterday afternoon, as I sat sipping hazelnut-flavored cappuccino in one of my favorite cafes, I bumped into Abdullah, a young Egyptian lawyer friend who had recently returned from Kuwait. I was surprised to see him walking slowly with a pronounced limp. “What happened to you?” I asked him. “Were you in a car accident?” “No, I’ve been shot,” he told me.
He went on to explain that the bullet struck his lower left leg penetrating the bone while he was walking out of a well-known trendy coffee shop minding his own business. “Why were you targeted?” I asked. “I wasn’t targeted,” he said. “An 18-year-old student was cleaning his gun on a tabletop when it went off by mistake.” Luckily for him, the prognosis is good. While I was aware that just about anything goes these days, I was nevertheless shocked to hear that teenagers have guns and have no worries about putting them on public display.
Every time I get into the passenger seat of a car, I get the sensation of playing Russian roulette with my life. Alexandrians have never been known for their disciplined driving but nowadays all normal rules of the road have been gaily abandoned. It’s so bad that half the time I close my eyes and try to visualize myself on a beach reading a book as speed maniacs weave in and out of the traffic.
A few days ago, a battered car without any number plates cut dangerously in front of us and the driver yelled out invective at mine. When shortly afterward we were level with him due to a traffic jam, my driver gave him a lecture on manners and told him that he shouldn’t be driving without plates. Indeed, before the revolution, he wouldn’t have been able to go more than 500 yards without being stopped and hauled-off to a police station. As it happened, he was Libyan; one of many who have fled their conflict-torn country for Egypt. “Listen friend, Libyans, Egyptians, we’re free to do what we like now, so just relax,” he said with a grin before speeding off once more.
A further consequence of such lack of official oversight is illegal construction. While the revolution was still in full swing, fellaheen working in the cities dashed back to their villages to build houses on agricultural land at breakneck speed. Whether the authorities will eventually demolish such illegal constructions or refuse to supply those homes with water and electricity is yet to be seen.
Farmers are also selling agricultural land at inflated prices to rogue construction companies. According to a resident of Diarb Negm, a village in the El-Sharqia Governorate near Cairo, 7,000 feddans of cultivated land has recently been concreted-over around his village alone. Owners of land within urban areas who have been unable to obtain building permissions for years or even decades have also been calling-in the diggers and tractors.
A high-rise is going-up right now at the end of my street and I know for a fact that the owner only has permission to build up to six floors according to road width. The plan is to present municipal authorities with a fait accompli in the hope that once families have bought apartments, they will be reluctant to tear it down.
However, I don’t think anyone is greatly concerned at the rule breaking; they know that this is a time of transition until elections take place in September. It’s unique and will probably never come again in their lifetime. My sympathies go to whoever manages to grab the top job. He’ll have a heck of job to rein in his people now that they’ve tasted “freedom’s” true meaning.
Linda S. Heard is a British specialist writer on Middle East affairs. She welcomes feedback and can be contacted by email at heardonthegrapevines@yahoo.co.uk.