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Ramadan traffic
By Amira Howeidy
From surreal peace to nightmare breakdown
It seemed, during the first few days of Ramadan, that our prayers had been answered. The traffic was surprisingly smooth, and in many cases, even better than the rest of the year. In normal rush hour traffic, getting from Heliopolis to downtown Cairo usually takes about 40 minutes. Amazingly, during those first few days of fasting, it only took 20.
Even more amazing were those usually crazy last 60 minutes before iftar, which for once were quite civilized. High-ranking traffic officers were posted at every corner, actually doing what they’re supposed to do all year round -- energetically organizing the traffic.
People began talking about what a relief it was that this year’s holy month was not accompanied by the miserable traffic jams of yore. After all, who wasn’t haunted by memories of hours spent stuck on the road? Ramadan has become synonymous with anger, forfeit, and thinking very carefully before deciding to venture into the jungle-like streets of Cairo.
Like many other people, relieved by this year’s unexpected turn for the better, I spent those first few days of Ramadan this year confident that I could venture out onto the streets whenever I wanted to. I also felt appreciation and respect for our traffic officers. My sense of gratitude was mirrored by my colleagues, family members and friends. “God bless those who are helping keep the streets in order,” said Sherine, my colleague at work. “Look how responsible they are for not even rushing home to have iftar with their families.” Sherine was thrilled that it only took her about 25 minutes to get downtown from Hadayek El-Qubba, where she lives.
For four days everything was fine, smooth sailing all the way. Then came day five with its sudden, frightening congestion as a result of an unexpected rainfall that began the previous evening.
Rain, of course, means instant traffic problems, with or without Ramadan. Half the streets literally turn into ponds. As I approachedEl-Orouba Street it seemed like all of Heliopolis was on the road, idling pointlessly in the puddles. The Orouba tunnel was full of water. All the way downtown, the situation was the same.
The strange thing is that the rain seemed to mark the end of the Ramadan traffic dream. For even after the water dried out a few days later, the congestion continued and suddenly, it was like all the previous Ramadans again. Now, anytime, anywhere, there is suffocating congestion. And it’s not just those last few minutes before iftar, when it’s assumed that everyone will be tearing down the road in a mad rush so as not to miss even a few minutes of their iftar. Now the entire day has become something like those last few minutes.
I still see the traffic officers on every corner, but not even they seem to have the power to restore calm to Ramadan’s tumultuous streets.
Actually, I’ve given up. I now choose not to expect anything but a frustrating experience every time I drive to and from work. And unless its absolutely necessary, I don’t go out otherwise. I admit it: I’m too much of a coward to deal with the nightmare any more than I have to.
When I asked friends for a reasonable explanation for those surreal, peaceful first four days of Ramadan, one friend snapped, “Did you really think it was because the traffic officers were organizing the traffic? Of course not. Everyone was just too scared to go out because they were worried about heavy traffic. That’s why the streets were relatively empty. How could you be so naïve?”
Naïve no longer, I’m merely hoping to get across town and through the month without having a nervous breakdown.
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