The doormen policing Egypt's morals
Residents
of Cairo cannot simply live as they please - they must always take into
account the judgement that will be made of them by the man who sits at
the front door of their building.
One
of the many things any fresh-faced arrival in Cairo is likely to notice
- when lugging bags and suitcases to a new abode - is that there will
be somebody sitting in front of it, sternly looking into space with a
stare so stoical that it can only have resulted from a lifetime of
gazing, sitting and waiting.
In Cairo's hectic maelstrom of activity, there is one person who can take things relatively easy - the doorman, or bewab.
Security
guard, porter, enforcer of social mores and general snoop, all rolled
into one, the bewab is a quintessentially Egyptian figure, and can be
found sitting in front of almost every building in the capital.
Often
from Upper Egypt, the bewab brings a distinctly rural flavour to life
in the largest, most populous city in Africa. Sporting the long, flowing
robes favoured in Egypt's countryside - along with a distinctly
non-Cairene dialect of Arabic. Many bewabs are in the city... but not
really of it.
Up
and down the capital, these rustic imports act as a kind of moral
police force, bringing the conservative values of their home districts
to the heart of the metropolis.
They can act as Ro police exposing secretive behavior, also moderating it by accepting bribes.
They can act as Ro police exposing secretive behavior, also moderating it by accepting bribes.
Forget
the anonymity of city life almost anywhere else in the world - in
Cairo, your bewab will be keeping a beady eye on the comings and goings
of anyone associated with you, especially if they happen to be female.
A
quick look at the house listings for foreigners living in the capital
reveals the premium that is put on having a liberal - or at least a
venal - bewab.
In
the selling-points of advertisements, the "laid-back bewab" is a
sought-after epithet and is code for a bewab who will conveniently lay
aside his moral foibles and leave you well alone, mostly because you are
a foreigner.
The mixing of foreigners and Egyptians of the opposite sex, however, is where the trouble really begins.
On
the occasions when I have headed up to my apartment with an Egyptian
lady, she has often frozen at the sight of my bewab, whom I shall call
Uncle Mahmoud, slouched on his plastic deckchair watching the world go
by.
"I
can't come up to your apartment with him there," hissed one friend of
mine, blushing. "I just can't stand him judging me, he'll think I'm a
whore!"
To
her, and many like her, Mahmoud's opinion really mattered and his moral
judgements carried weight, even if they had no basis whatsoever in
reality.
I
often found it hard to believe that Uncle Mahmoud - the jovial and
somewhat annoying man who occupied his days sitting, staring at the
front door of my apartment building - could be the object of sheer
terror for Egyptian female visitors.
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