eudaimonia & anagnorisis

Every time I go to teach in Mar Girgis on Monday nights, I revel in nostalgia for the civility of the DC metro. One day I want to identify the source of the unspoken agreement that exists between metro patrons in American cities that people get off the train before the people on the platform get on the train. Unlike the harmonious “doors open, passengers disembark, passengers board, doors chime and then usually close” scenario I’m used to, the Cairo metro experience is far more chaotic: As the train draws near the crowd of women waiting for the all-women’s car (sidenote: this is an option, not a requirement, and I choose to take it for humor rather comfort because the co-ed-a.k.a-male-dominated cars are actually more bearable but they smell bad) begin pushing towards the approaching doors. During the brief moment when the train is stopped but the doors have not yet opened, the women inside the car show faces of determination and the women on the platform squeeze as close as possible to the glass with equally resolute expressions. When the doors open each huddled mass pushes in the direction of their desire with equal force, allowing only a lucky few on the fringes to sneak through towards the edge of the door. After a moment of stagnation, the momentum of the crowd exiting seems to triumph for a moment, but their space is instantly usurped by the crowd entering. Once I actually closed my eyes while getting on the metro (out of frustration with the various women pushing and proding me) and this method has proven to be the easiest and least painful for boarding.

Today during this dance I witnessed what was perhaps the cross-cultural highlight of my experiences abroad thus far….

A tall, elderly British woman was being cordially escorted (read: pushed helplessly through the doors) by the crowd into the already full car and after a few huffs and puffs calmly but loudly cried, “Stop pushing madam!” towards a particularly aggressive Egyptian woman. This woman, who had a full shopping bag on her head, took this as an opportunity to push the British woman intentionally. In reaction, the ladyBrit uttered, “Ugh! You are preposterous!” and dusted the other woman’s apparently uncivilized touch from her shirt. The shopping-bag-crowned women gave her another light push and then preceeded farther into the car, shouting “hiya magnooona, wallahy!” as she disappeared into the mass of scarves. I stood there sipping my coffee to hide the enormous grin across my face. What was weird was that this poor British woman seemed to radiate a need for empathy or at least a need for some sort of confirmation that she was not actually crazy…But I couldn’t give it to her. When her frazzled glance passed over me, she saw nothing but another metro-bitch.
I felt in this moment so invisible it was almost nice.

Of course, every positive situation has its negative counterpart in the karmic realm, and before arriving to the platform I got my share of cultural frustration. I approached the ticket window to tuck my dirty 1 pound bill into the tray and mouthed a polite ‘ahlan’ to the ticket vender. This gesture of recognition gives me a way as a foreigner every time as most people don’t even make eye contact with the cranky ticket guy as they cram their piasters under the glass. Nevertheless, I continue to do it with hopes that it might in some insignificant way make the cairo metro a more pleasant place. Tonite my naive courtesy was met with this slime-of-the-earth-ticket-guy looking up from his little pile of tickets to toy with the foolish tourist: he held the ticket up, as if questioning my intention for giving him the money, I raised my eyebrows and nodded slightly thinking no duh, jerk. He then placed the ticket near the finger-print-marked glass and waited for me to reach for it like a mindless animal. I humored him and added another finger print to the glass. He laughed and then placed the ticket into the tray. As I took the ticket he continued to hold it as if I was a dog pulling at a chew toy. I looked daggers at him and whispered “Fi ay?” His bewilderment with my surprisingly-local reaction forced him to let go of the ticket and I walked towards the platform brewing up a little storm in my mind… You win some, you lose some.