Just went back thru my old entries to find a particular one.
Last year: September 18th
I blogged about a taxi driver who had a sob story about his five “bee bees” one of whom had breast cancer – he needed money.
Fast forward to yesterday – I’m on Mara’ashli going to school and I flag down a taxi. Before I can even tell the driver where I want to go, he starts yammering at me. I tell him “Shwaya Arabi” (just a little Arabic). He responds in broken Arabinglish – my “binti” (daughter). Biggest of 5. Only 17. Breast cancer.
No kidding – apparently this is a yearly statistical event – take the number of taxi drivers in Cairo, divide by the number of times I ride a taxi and multiply by days in a year and you’ve apparently got a likelihood of once every 15 months that I run into this particular guy!!!
This time I did not ride in his taxi. I waved him off and got in the next one. No wailing stories. No asking for loads of cash.
I am either turning into an unfeeling soul, or getting used to Cairo – city victorious.
More like Kaddee Victorious.
Hmmm, I think you are fortunate that none of these drivers have offered to give you an “exam.†I bet you could get a free taxi ride out of it. Ahahaaa. Are you sure it wasn’t the same cabbie? Maybe that’s his ‘handle’ in the Cairo Cab scene? Did he have any stickers or identifying information indicating that he may be professionally trained in taxi mammography?