After a long, tiring trip to the historic town of Luxor in central Egypt, a day of rest was a pleasing prospect. But at midnight on February 7th, I was again about to experience another amazing journey. This one started out badly, as it brought back unpleasant memories of my own encounters with police in Pakistan and elsewhere.
According to plan, our Egyptian guide, Mohamed Omer, was with us when our bus joined an escorted caravan of tourists on its way to Cairo. On this day there were more police officers around than usual, and they began searching each bus in turn.
When they came to ours and shone a torch inside, Omer suddenly lay down on one of the empty seats and kept very still, as if he were sleeping. At first I didn’t understand why, though I was sure it was connected somehow to our late-night visit.
Different pictures began to move in front of my eyes. I wondered if Omer could be a criminal and that he was afraid of being arrested. Maybe that was why he was so nervous when he saw police approaching our bus? My suspicions only grew stronger when the police found him hiding and led him away. I stared at them in shock. But our Slovak guide, Linda, seemed completely unruffled, almost as if she didn’t care what was happening to Omer.
"Where are they taking him?" I asked,
"Don’t worry, he'll come back, it’s routine here," she said.
I wasn’t sure what was normal in this situation, but we had to move on, leaving Omer behind with the police. Still I wondered, why on earth had they been looking for Omer? And I was worried, too, about what they might be doing to him. He was such a nice guy.
One hour later my concerns were dispelled. We stopped for breakfast at a roadside restaurant and as I stepped off the bus, there was Omer, smiling.
"Wow, what happened?"
Omer answered that question with another of his own.
"Don’t ask. Isn't it enough that I'm here?"
Yes, of course, I was hugely relieved and pleased to see him. But my journalist's curiosity demanded more. I wanted to know the full story -- including the story behind the story.
When Omer realized I would not be put off, he explained. "You know there is a law that says Egyptian citizens cannot travel with foreigners without permission. I was breaking this law."
I asked him how he solved this problem.
"It wasn't me who solved it," he replied, "but 100 Egyptian pounds."
"So you bribed them?"
"Yes I did," he said. "There was no other way, because if I didn’t they would have left me alone in the desert, and what was I supposed to do there in the middle of the night?"
Yes, it was true: Omer probably did the right thing, even if it was illegal and cost him a quarter of his monthly income. In my experiences, bribing police officers is not something unique to Egypt. It's common in many poor countries, and even in developed ones, too. But here in Egypt there was one more painful reality to Omer's story -- the humiliation of local people. They are not as free to travel in their own country as foreigners are. They even need a visa to travel to some parts of the country where foreigners are free to travel. They can’t stay where foreigners stay, and they can’t travel in the same car as foreigners.
Though I, too, come from a developing nation, this was just unacceptable to me. Egyptians don't like it either, but they can't express their anger openly. I heard many Egyptians telling me that "when you think about Egypt you can't judge the country without dividing the nation into two parts -- government officials, and everyone else."
In many respects it was true. The officials have ruled for decades, under the leadership of Hosni Mubarak, who's been president since 1981. These officials have a completely different life -- and mindset -- from ordinary Egyptians.
Somehow it reminded me of Iran, at least in terms of the divisions between officials and the public. Each group hates the other, but despite being in a majority, ordinary Egyptians say they can do nothing, because Mubarak has more than 10 types of secret police to keep them in check.
Anyway, many worry that, if Mubarak was removed from power, it could lead to the rise of extremist Islamic groups. That could be disastrous for the entire middle east, and that is why the West turns a blind eye to Egypt's democratic failings.
This is what I was mulling over the whole way to Cairo while the others were sleeping. I was also reminded of this division between the ordinary public and elites wherever I looked, from the types of homes people lived in, to the different kinds of transport they used. I could see beautiful villas but also tents, people on donkeys but also people gliding past in limousines.
Cairo, Africa's biggest city with 16 million inhabitants, was also a good example of this reality. As we entered the city after our 450-km journey from Hurghada, we were welcomed by thick pollution and the sight of makeshift shelters that so many call home.
A strong wind meant that this would not be an easy trip, in contrast to our visits to other Egyptian towns. But still we were keen to go to the pyramids, considered one of the seven wonders of the world.
We took a shortcut, past huge portraits of Egyptian President dotted all along the roadside. Just like in Turkmenistan, I thought, where President Saparmyrat Niyazov's portrait is everywhere. And just like Turkmenistan, somehow all the portraits of Egypt's president are of him as a young man.
Notwithstanding last night's bad experience, this was going to be another good day, as I would meet another special person in Cairo -- Ahmed Magraby, the young man who was going to be my new guide. Magraby, like many Egyptians, is an open, friendly man, and I miss him greatly.
Dear readers, I think that’s enough for today. In the next and final part of my Egyptian adventures, I'll take you to the pyramids and some other parts of Cairo.
