Moqattam

5/25/08

8 p.m.

I’ve talked about poverty, stench, dirt and the likes some. We visited Stabl Antar and I described that. But nothing like what I saw Friday.

Nermeen, our Arabic teacher, heard about the knitting factory project and volunteered to take us to a Coptic church in Moqqatum, built into the side of a cave. The catch was the cave is in the middle of Moqqatum, a city where people make their livings sorting through trash.

www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A23780270
Nermeen said it’s like an Egyptian Mafia. Be careful what you Americans throw away she told us. These people get rich off it.

As we enter the stench seeps into our van. We turn up the AC and wave air in front of our noses as life continues on the other side of the glass. I see kids playing and screaming. They wave as we pass and have the energy to jump up near our van. I see an old woman sitting in a doorway, she is surrounded by garbage, the stench of which seeps into our van. Many men sit in front of narrow stalls selling bread, fruit, or American brand snacks and water. We pass a young mother leading her daughter through piles of trash and a filthy donkey.

Later from the steps of the church, a magnificent structure rising out of the chaos, covered with carvings and seating 20,000 people, we see roof upon roof piled with trash. I can see a pen with pigs, people sifting through piles of garbage and clothes hanging out to dry from those same buildings.

I don't like the smell, I am hot and disgusted by the bathroom in the café by the church, which like usual, was filthy and had no toilet paper.

But I am only a passerby and our van is hovering somewhere around the corner.

This is a way of life. Most of these people don’t have the funds to pick up and leave.

And where would they go? The unemployment in Egypt, is over 10 percent. And many in places like this can’t read and write, can’t speak other languages, don’t have cars or connections beyond their immediate community.

Do these people have lower life-expectancy? How could they not. Do they feel sick often, do they ever breathe fresh air—rare anywhere in Cairo to begin with, do they ever see a spotless street? A little girl handed Katharine a sweet smelling flower….

I haven’t done a real work-out since I’ve been here, my eating habits have gone to crap and I’ve been mildly sick more times than I can count. (Please don’t worry anyone…ahem, Mom.) But what is that compared to these people?

On our way to teach English today we drove past signs for Moqattam. Perfectly normal signs standing straight with green backgrounds and white writing. These places are on a map, they’re no secret.

I thought about the micro-bacterial spray my Mom gave me-- spray if things seem dirty--like if you have to touch a doorknob you don’t want to or spray all around your bed. It seems so comical now.

Where could I spray it, how could I ever chose?

I pictured gallons of the spray being dumped upon the humanity, animals, junk and treasures of the garbage town. It seemed so cruel. This is all they have, it’s their home, their way of life.

On the roof of the Café, overlooking the town, Tara talked about the Dominican Republic where she studied abroad. The people are so poor she said. They have so little, but at the end of the day they dance and sing together. Do they have something like that here, she asked Mary. Do they have little things like that to make there day? Shiesha? I suggested.

Of course they must, I think. I don’t believe people are capable of living without something to make them happy, some kind of hope, however small. And then how can you compare happiness?

Is a child-in a-garbage-dump’s happy any weaker than American kid’s in a suburb? Can’t a chocolate drink in a bag be just as enticing as a Playstation or a teenager’s first car or man’s favorite shiesha flavor. There’s only a range. Contrasts. What we know, expect and think we want.

Now none of this justifies people living in garbage when others, have so much. Happiness does not make up for grossly unequal standards of living.

What I said before about the micro-bacterial stuff I meant in terms of not looking down on their life, not holding our noses or cringing, rather taking it in and really seeing.

That said, I am not OK accepting the differences in luck, birth, nationality and all the inequality that comes with it.

After Moqattam and then Khan—the big outdoor market, we ended our class trip with City Stars, the biggest mall in Cairo.

Fully veiled women pushed shopping carts full of purchases past stores like Espirit and Puma. I didn’t want to be there. I definitely didn’t want to go in any stores I knew so I tried some with Egyptian names, the prices seemed ridiculously high and the clothes inappropriate and impractical for the conservative society we were in.

The gross inequality is not just a western problem. It' s a human one, from what I see prevalent in every division of communities and societies.

I saw it at the dialogue last Monday too. Our Egyptian peers talked about how poor Egypt is, incomparable to anything in the United States. Clad in Gucci shoes and driving BMWs --yess I'm generalizing not all were---were they any more connected then us?

At the end of the day some lived in a garbage dump and some didn’t and we all went on our way because what else could we do?

Any opinions? Questions? Thoughts?

Thanks for reading.

Lily