| By Kate Durham |
| Akram works near Tahrir Square, ground zero of the revolution, but that's not what he wants to show me. “That's Talaat Harb,” he says apropos of nothing, pointing to the iconic statue in the square up ahead. It's a line that marks him as a tourist tout. If I had any doubts, they disappear with his next one: “Welcome to Alaska.” He thinks he’s chatting me up, unaware that I'm actually there to chat him up about the presidential elections. For a couple of weeks, I've been informally polling to people at the very front lines of tourism — not the major hoteliers and restauranteurs, but the tour guides and tiny shop owners around Cairo, those hardest hit by the post-revolution tourism slump. (Because these were casual conversations to let people speak freely, sources are identified only by first name or job.) At the beginning of June, the Egyptian Tourism Federation (ETF) — representing the hotel, restaurant, travel agent, tourist shop and water sport industries — came out with a ringing endorsement of Ahmed Shafik for the presidential run-off. Their official reasoning: Shafik has a clear plan for tourism, while his opponent Mohamed Morsi does not. So I set out to test the waters and get the industry’s reaction to run-offs. It was a job I thought would be harder after the so-called anti-spy ad run briefly on state TV channels last Friday amid a social media uproar. Set in an ahwa (local coffee shop), the ad cautioned Egyptians to watch what they say to foreigners, insinuating that strangers asking questions are spies. I saw the video on YouTube, and my first reaction was to roll my eyes at yet another attempt to promote xenophobia. My second reaction was an overwhelming urge to go to an ahwa and see if people would talk to me. Of course, there are a limited number of ahwas a female, foreign or otherwise, can go on her own and maintain a decent reputation. Most of those coffee shops are in the tourist areas, so it was back to my election poll. As if I needed to worry. When it comes to tourist areas, the challenge is not getting people to talk to you; it's getting them to stop talking. A seventh-generation perfume seller, Akram hasn't seen this TV ad, but when I describe it, he just shakes his head, “Don't believe everything you see on TV.” At first he thinks it was something to scare foreigners away from Egyptians, and he hastens to assure me Egyptians are good people. When I tell him the ad is trying to scare Egyptians away from foreigners, he's dumbfounded that anyone would suggest such a thing. The tourism industry is scared, but not of foreigners. Even before the ETF's endorsement, my conversations with tourism workers showed a strong preference for Shafik. Even those considering boycotting the runoff say Shafik is better for their industry. Their reasons were varied, and none came close to matching the ETF's analysis of political platforms. With some, I doubt they even know there was a federation representing tourism interests. The self-appointed guide in Old Cairo, for instance, was too busy commanding me to “take photo” of churches and wheedling for more baksheesh (tips) to explain his support of Shafik. In a souvenir shop collecting dust just down the street from the churches, Amr may boycott the election now that Hamdeen Sabbahi is out of the race. If he does vote, it will be for Shafik as a balance against the Islamist-controlled Parliament. While a number of people I spoke with originally wanted Sabbahi, several have supported Shafik since the beginning. Among them are Ali and Aasha, two licensed tour guides in the empty garden of the Egyptian Museum. The charter groups bussed in that morning from the Red Sea had moved on to the Pyramids, and without Cairo-based tourists to fill the gap, the guides have plenty of time to talk politics. Both are unimpressed with Tahrir Square's revolutionaries, but Aasha is even less impressed with the Muslim Brotherhood's “obsession with Islam” at the expense of national interests. In Khan El-Khalili, Islamist candidates were even less well received. A colored-glass seller who is shifting his vote from Sabbahi to Shafik keeps confusing Morsi with Abdel Moneim Abolfotoh. Shaggy, a bushy-haired Sabbahi supporter in a gold shop, contemptuously refers to Morsi as “the Sheikh,” calling him worse than Shafik. Shaggy went to Tahrir in the early days of the uprising, but has since stayed away. He hasn't decided if he'll vote yet, he just knows the country needs to move on. It took some searching, but I found two Morsi supporters manning handicrafts shops in the oft-overlooked Souq Fustat between Amr Ibn Ali Mosque and the Coptic monuments. Both veiled women in their 20s, they voted for Sabbahi in the first round. Shafik is “old regime,” they say, so they are for Morsi. They're not worried about an Islamist monopoly in government scaring away tourists, perhaps because they see so few tourists to begin with. One girl admits the main patrons of Souq Fustat are Egyptians and long-term residents. Besides, her friend points out, it will only be for four years; if it turns out to be a mistake, the country can elect a new president. Interestingly enough, Aasha raises the same point in her support of Shafik. None of the men I spoke with took this long view of the situation — except for the middle-aged man selling trinkets off a folding table in Talaat Harb Square, an informal extension of his shop in one of the side streets. After voting for Sabbahi, he is now truly confused about who to vote for in the run-off. When I asked him who could make the country better, he raises his hands and says, “Only God can make it better.” Akram echoes the mood of tourism's foot soldiers when he tells me “People are tired.” The perfume seller sagely points out that no matter who wins, someone will be unhappy. After the election, he says, some will go to Tahrir Square and yell, but “people won't listen to them.” |
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