Markets and Beggars

On the street today on the way to the Metro, I saw an old Fiat Taxi as usual, with its roof rack piled high with cargo. The cargo was about two or three beef carcases cut up in quarters or more going to market. Just a small tarp pulled over to hold it on with most of the load or more exposed to the elements. On the Subway/Metro I rode in the ladies car, no men allowed. (The Egyptian men in close quarters tend to get too friendly, hence the ladies car).Got off at the Nasser stop in the downtown area and walked to Ataba, where there is a huge fabric market. The downtown streets are bustling with people and modern looking shops with trendy Muslim clothing and some Western looking clothes. It is amazing that even though we are in full summer weather they are just getting out the summer clothes, but a lot of corduroy still around. I had to do a lot of experimenting with routes and asking friendly Egyptians for directions but I found the fabrics. On the way there I had to pass through a HUGE Bazzar type street market where the streets were blocked off and jammed full of vendors selling about any type of clothing, pink ‘bloomers’, scarves, gallabayas, bedding, baby clothes, T-shirts and so on. The markets are often by type of item, I passed through an area where appliances were sold, hard ware, house wares, carpets and then I finally found the fabrics, upholstery and clothing. Some areas are only wholesale and sell by the bolt, with some searching I found the fabrics I could buy. Most of it is cotton made in Egypt. I bought three cotton pieces at $2.72 at meter. Found some sheets as well for $6.36 (no fitted sheets here, I could find). for a flat sheet and 2 pillow cases. Every shop I went into is about as big as the bed of a small pick up truck. No room to turn, with a big school bag on my back. The fabrics are plied high with a path through. It is the side streets that are very interesting. They are so narrow with delivery people running through with fabric bolts on their shoulders, huge boxes on their backs, small delivery carts and even when there is no room, small delivery trucks. I took a walk down one and it was full of spice stores, little tiny shops filled with every spice you can think off over flowing from burlap bags with the sides rolled over to form a rim. Curcumin, white ginger, red ginger, cinnamon, saffron, pepper, toothpick plant, hot peppers, dried lemons, a real yucky looking tennis ball (size) which looked a lot like bear poop (leaves berries, tarry looking substance), they told me put it in water it makes a good drink! Mixed in with this is dust, dirt and many flies. I didn’t venture in too far for I stood out very obviously, being the only person with a ball cap visor while the other ladies all were wearing a headscarf, or a veil and dress/skirt. No pictures on this trip, people were friendly but taking pictures would push it to the limit. The always ask where I’m from and always smile when I say Canada. The small streets wind in deeper and get odder and narrower as they get away from the main streets. Lots of food vendors but you leave your appetite home if you are smart especially when you see the conditions in which some foods are packaged and prepared. That was the interesting part and this is the ‘keep you awake at night’ part. This is where you see the beggars and you see why they beg. There was a man sitting on the sidewalk in the dust and dirt, cradling his approx 14 year old son in his arms. The boy is unable to sit up, is handicapped or injured, maybe burns. His hand has no skin on it and is a red open sore accessible to the flies and street dirt. There is a woman sitting on the street with her 3 year old who is playing on the sidewalk and climbing a fence watching the cars going by. She is calling to him to come to her for she has no feet. An old man with his hand held out, blind eyes covered by very droopy lids. There is a handicapped man in an antiquated wheelchair, very small, very deformed, who smiles so gratefully when I gave him money. Meanwhile people are rushing by them without a glance. Can’t forget it, be thankful we were born in Canada. “There but for the Grace of God go I”!