When Men are Men

“Salah Salem,” I said through the passenger window. The slight nod of his head told me he was willing to take us there, so we jumped into the back seats.

We nattered in English throughout the journey, talking about work, my emotional breakdown while speaking to a hearing-impaired student’s parents about his struggles in class and a variety of other topics.

“Feen fi Salah Salem?” He finally asked, as he neared a junction that would determine the route.

“Er… erm… 6 October Panaroma,” I never realised that I actually have a little difficulty saying panaroma, especially since I was trying to say it Egyptian-style – meaning, replacing the p for a b!

We were meeting friends at the International Bowling Centre, but didn’t realise it was the same day that Al-Ahly (one of Egypt’s two football teams) were playing at the stadium nearby. It was the human sea of red shirts and waving flags that told us.

The taxi driver turned into the junction of the bowling centre and the sheer number of Ahly fans roaming was quite overwhelming. It triggered memories of Millwall fans when I used to be out in South-East London, minus the skinheads and looks of disgust. Although knowing that the Ahly fans littered along the street were nothing like the hooligans back in the UK, it didn’t make it any more comforting – boys will be boys, and they’re usually worse when in large groups.

We told the taxi driver he could let us out anywhere along the street. He didn’t. He outright refused and carried on, did a U-turn and went back towards the main road. My friend and I looked at one another, exchanging words of ‘What’s he doing’ telepathically. He then said in English,

“I drop you here,” then switched to Arabic to tell us that there was a clear path away from all the men, and he called on three security guys who were loitering in the area.

“These ladies want to get to the Panorama,” he told them in Arabic.

“The Panorama is closed,” they said, peering at us through the window.

“It’s closed?” I was sure it wasn’t.

“Yes, it closes at 5pm,” one of the security guys confirmed.

I took my phone out of my bag. No missed calls from our friends to say it was closed.

“Really? We want to go bowling.”

“Oh! Bowling. Yeeeez! That is open,” a tea-stained smile spread across his face. We were all smiling at this point, and the taxi driver told the security guys to make sure we got there safely, since he was dropping us a little distance away from the entrance.

Of course, being the sentimental lady that I am, I was moved by his gesture and genuine concern for our safety, and kept on ‘Ahhhhh’-ing because it was above his duty as a taxi driver. Aside from wishing goodness for him and thanking him, we gave him a generous tip to thank him for his kindness, and it was one of those, I love Egypt moments, where men are men and care for lady-folk, expecting nothing in return.

Men, take note. 🙂

– The Londoner

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About LaYinka Sanni

Editor & Writing Coach -- "... connecting dots, one sentence at a time..."

Posted on June 26, 2011, in Ruminations about Cairo and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.

  1. Men are Men when good observers like you are there :))))))

  2. Awww that was too sweet masha Allah. May Allah reward him with jannatul firdaws.

  3. You keep saying you have ” I love Egypt ” moments, you better starting that you generally love Egypt 🙂

    – a tea-stained smile spread across his face. This is my favorite line. I can see him smiling just how you did, it draws the picture very clearly and from what I understood as well is that he had a big mouth-literally, because otherwise you could’ve just said that he smiled-or i might be wrong!-anyway- I like the piece.

    • I have moments that re-affirm my love for Egypt, but you already know I love Egypt… aslan! 😀

      Thanks for your comment, m’love, he did indeed have a HUGE smile spread right across his face.

  4. What a lovely post. Thanks so much chica 🙂

  5. I fly into Cairo on July 18th, and after a week or so visiting the in-laws near Dillingat, we’ll be in Cairo, hunting for a flat! Inshallah, we find something before Ramadan, and I live in hope that we can afford something small in Maadi, but we’ll see. As soon as we have a place, I’d really like to catch up with you. 🙂

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