If you can’t brave the smoke, don’t take a cab in Cairo!

On this warm evening, my friend and I decided to go and see Cairo ‘at night’.  We had earlier on spoken to the hotel bellboys to know some of the places worth checking out around the city.  A few familiar names had shown up on the list of recommendations: Tahrir Square, Gezira Island, 6^th October bridge etc.  With our inability to comfortably speak Arabic, we had requested the bellboy to write the names of the places so we could just hand the list to the cab driver.  Unlike me, my colleague could sketch a bit of Arabic drawing from his Sudanic origin.

The taxi was called to come to the guest drop-off and pick-up parking area and there we were in the backseats of this cozy air-conditioned salon car.  The hotel had got us a good deal for the round trip - $ 30 for taking us around five sites, including waiting charges.

Two minutes into our journey, the driver pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit a stick and begun to puff away.  In shock and awe my colleague (a retired pastor) turned and looked at me; I muttered asking him to tell the drive (in Arabic) that we would appreciate if he didn’t smoke when we are in the car.  Without a dither my colleague decoded the message to the driver in broken Arabic. With outrage the driver pitched his voice howling, “I speak English, I heard what you said in English, if you don’t smoke, get out of my car!” Without further contemplation he stopped and we got out to find another taxi. 

A few meters away from where we had alighted was a taxi stage, so we picked one and recapped to the new driver the directions to the places where we wanted to go; this driver sounded amiable right from the way he asked what countries we were from. He precisely knew all the places we wanted to visit and his charge was reasonable ($ 25 for the round trip). Off we went, but before we got to our first stop, he dug out his cigarette pack from the glove compartment and there he was lighting and puffing.  Luckily enough the car windows were rolled down but even then, that didn’t save us much from being stout second-hand smokers.  Our first stop was at the Tahrir Square (about twenty minutes from the hotel) and at this point we had made up our minds not to continue with this taxi to the rest of the sites lest we were determined to cough and sneeze all the way! 

After a few night picture shots at the famous Tahrir Square, we took another cab driven by an elderly man.  Immediately after going through the ritual of the sites we needed to see and discussing the price, this elderly, fatherly-like driver reached for his tobacco pipe that was carefully placed at the dashboard – and off he started smoking as we snail-paced through the chaotic night traffic at Meret Basha road towards the great 6^th October bridge.  Asked whether we could roll down the windows because of the smoke, the old man unobtrusively retorted that it was not necessary since he had turned on the car air-conditioner.

Despite the warm demeanor cultured in his appearance, we had to let him off at our next stop and try to find another taxi whose driver would be decent enough not to smoke while taking us around.

A tally undertaken later that night revealed that we had used ten cabs and spent over $ 200 in taxi fare. 

Painfully, none of the drivers felt that smoking with passengers in the car was not only wrong but also awkward and indecent.  For them (I think) it is normal, scents the car and gives off that sweet fragrance that leave the clients yearning to come back to their cabs!

Oh là là!