It takes a village, a taxi driver and somebody’s mom

It is Ramadan. I only mention this because it means that traffic is much worse than normal during certain times of the day.

During one such busy time I was sitting in a taxi on a side street. We sat there for some time. While sitting there, I saw a scene that reminded me of growing up. What follows also greatly reminded me of my childhood.

I see 2 boys fighting. I saw the entire fight develop from start to finish. More on that later.
My taxi driver looks over to the sidewalk and sees these 2 boys fighting.

One short, scrawny looking kid with glasses. Maybe 6 or 7 years old. Let us call him Mido.

One taller, beefy kid. Maybe 9 or 10 years old. Let us call him Achmed.

They are in that stage of the fight, familiar to all boys as “the hold”. Neither is really swinging at the other or inflicting any damage. They are just kind of hanging on to each other and pushing.

The taxi driver yells at them to stop. They ignore him. He looks around and sees a woman of indeterminate age and of large proportions, wearing a headscarf and an abaya similar to this one. She, and women like her, are an ubiquitous sight on the streets of Cairo. He says something to her and points at the boys.

She reacts in almost comic book fashion: The eyes go wide, the mouth opens and then closes in a look of grim determination. She storms over to the other side of the street and starts berating the boys.

Neither one lets go of the other. She forces them apart and then proceeds [I am guessing here based on the scene and the body language and gestures of everyone involved] to yell at the larger boy,Achmed for picking on the little kid, Mido. She is yelling at him and smacking him on the back of the neck. [Here, hitting someone on the back of the neck is a humiliating gesture. One used to punish, berate or otherwise display dominance. It is not as insulting as showing someone the bottom of your shoe or hitting them with the shoe, but it is up there]. She says waves the the little kid, Mido, off.

The boys disperse, the larger boy being chased by a flurry of invective from the woman.

Mission accomplished, she walks back to the other side of the street and exchanges some pleasantries with the taxi driver. They share a laugh and the contentment of “having done the right thing.”

This reminded me of my childhood in that it was very common for strangers to question, and correct, the behavior of children that they did not know or knew only as being from the neighborhood. Many people would have no problem with breaking up a fight between 2 kids and demanding to be brought to the parents so that the parents could be informed of “these shenanigans.”

It happened to me and my friends more times than I could count.

I wonder if the same thing is still done in the US? Someone I doubt it.

The other part of this story that reminded me of my childhood was this:

I saw the entire fight. Because of the placement of vehicles and sight lines, the taxi driver could not.

The little kid, Mido, started it. Or at least started the aggression. I am sure there was some provoking event/word or score to settle, real or imagined.

But Mido ran up behind the big kid, Achmed, and started punching him in the back of the head and the back. Achmed turned around and tried to grab hold of Mido to stop the blows. Mido was then able to squirm free and punch Achmed in the face. Achmed was then able to pin Mido’s arms to stop the onslaught. He would hold him and say something to him and then let him go.

Mido would stand there and glare at Achmed. Achmed would then turn around and start to walk away. He would get about 2 steps, and Mido would renew the attack.

This repeated itself 2 more times before the taxi driver notices. By then Achmed had pinned Mido’s arms again and was, it appeared, reluctant to let him go, again.

But when “justice” was served, Achmed must have felt that he got treated unfairly. And no one can cry “that’s not fair!” like a child.

I wonder if he thought to himself “Where was that crazy old woman when Mido was punching me in the back of the head? I shouldda just smacked the crap out of Mido. I wouldda been out of there before anybody noticed.”

Ed donya kiddah. [Which is, roughly speaking, the Egyptian phrase for “C’est la vie”]