As events unfold in Egypt, I am reminded of a trip I took to Cairo en route to Israel in the 90s. I was met at the airport outside of Cairo by a family friend who greeted me with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. On the way to his car, I was startled by the press of people begging and calling out to us. My escort shouted at them, took my arm firmly and quickened our pace to his car, a Mercedes Benz Limousine.
On the way to my hotel, on a small island in the Nile River across from Cairo's downtown section, I was struck by the contrast between us and other traffic. Sharing the street with us were camels, donkeys, pushcarts, and scooters along with vendors carrying their wares. Neither pedestrians nor traffic stopped for each other. The shops we passed were bustling with activity. Merchandise included animals, dead and alive. Even the exhaust fumes could not hide the smells, and among all the noises was an occasional sound of music.
In addition to the spectacular and ancient sites I would later visit in Egypt, it was the memory of my entrance into Cairo that remains with me still. Even then, I wondered how long could the disparity between wealth and poverty be sustained?
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