Getting to School

One of the biggest challenges I've encountered this semester is getting to school. When we were in the downtown Tahrir campus school was a 10 to 20 minute ride. I took a cab to school, and was pretty stress free unless I was late.

This semester I have a car, and drive on a highway everyday to get to school. I see cars upside down, smashed together and over curbs every day. Buses make sharp rights and lefts, unconcerned with others on the road. Even in stop and go traffic you have to watch out. People will change lanes without warning, pushing you into a bus, like they did to me.

I had been hit twice in the span of 3 days, and both were relatively big hits. I fixed the first one, but decided to wait for any other damage with the second one. I'm glad I did.

Yesterday I got in an accident. A cab driver stopped in the middle of the road to pick up customers. I looked down, and didn't realize he was stopped. I slammed right into his bumper, and watched as his trunk flew up.

His bumper is made out of steel, and mine of plastic. When I hit the back of his car, it was as if I hit a brick wall. My bumper, hood, and vent were smashed, but only the cab’s exhaust fell off.

The police eventually arrived, and asked what happened. I told him, and let him know that it was my fault. The officer asked if I had insurance, I said yes of course. Apparently, in Egypt the insurance company can refuse to pay for damages if the accident is your fault. The officer knew this. My friend Ahmed and I were not sure what to do. We knew the report was supposed to be written in the cab driver’s favor, but if it was I would end up fixing the damages out of pocket.

“Give the driver something so that he can leave,” the officer told Ahmed. “I’ll get the police report taken care of. We won’t write what really happened or else you won’t be able to fix your car.”

I asked Ahmed how much he had given the officer, or what he told him. Nothing, he said. The guy was just being nice. We followed them to the station, quite sure that they would each end up taking something. No one does this kind of stuff out of the kindness of their hearts anymore. That’s just not Egypt.

We were wrong.

Ahmed and I had bewildered looks on our faces as we left the station with everything taken care of, and our wallets still full. The men at the station ensured that my car would be covered. They made us feel comfortable at the police station, and they restored my faith in the Egyptian community.

I’m going to take them a homemade cake.

As soon as my car is fixed.