My children ask from time to time why it is that we have chosen not to have a car here in Egypt. To say that the driving is crazy is inadequate. I have trouble describing the lawlessness which personifies driving habits of the locals.
I recently found this description of driving in Cairo at the turn of the last century in “The Leisure of an Egyptian Official” by Lord Edward Cecil:
His driving is peculiar. We start off at a gallop before I am well in the cab, and I sit down suddenly. This is painful, but I am used to it. We whirl around the first corner, and miss and old man who is strolling down the road, apparently with the intention of committing suicide, by a fraction of an inch. The driver yells out the whole time various remarks to the other occupants of the street who are getting, or who he thinks may get, in his way. “O my father, mind thy feet. Thy feet, my brother. To thy right, beloved. O son of all that is vile, and father of unmentionable things, where are you going?” They an torrent of abuse which is absolutely unreproducible. The language of he barrack-room in the old days was pure and mild compared with ordinary chaff of the streets here.
All this time we are galloping and missing people and vehicles by the narrowest of margins. It looks like a series of the most unparalleled flukes, but it is really due to the cleverness of the horses, who are as quick on their feet as cats, and just manage to avoid each thing in turn. It is lucky that they are so gifted, because no one keeps the rule of the road; all pedestrians walk in the roadway, usually on the wrong side, and are either engaged in conversation or are so blind as to not be able to see the carriage until it is close upon them. The shouts of the driver have less effect than one might expect from their loudness and substance, because all the other drivers are shouting at the same time.
Replace the horses with automobiles and add in the cacophony of honking and you get the idea. And yet, we are in the minority – just about everyone we know has a car – which, in a city of approximately 20 million (give or take), is part of the problem! Having recently witnessed a police truck hit a passenger car, inspect the damage and then drive away from the scene I am not convinced to change my mind on the matter.
Besides, walking is good for you – so long as you can avoid the drivers….
Eek! I wouldn’t drive either. Each time I climbed into a cab I held my breath until it was time to get out again. All the tooting was pretty familiar after spending time in India. I guess that’s what horns are for – tooting!
by Shelley Munro October 24th, 2007 at 7:01 pmShelley – you’ve been to India too?? What are you doing, following me around? LOL Love that in India they called honking “horning”
It’s not always easy walking either of course, particularly crossing the street. Not only because of the traffic but because taxis zoom in on you like flies and block your way!!
by Jenyfer Matthews October 24th, 2007 at 7:14 pm