The Ahwas of Cairo | The taxi gingerly crosses the Qasr al-Nil Bridge above the wide, green river. Under the tyres, rocks and debris crunch on discarded missiles harvested from pavements and walls. At the kerbside, the shell of a car smoulders, blackened and twisted, the iron road smeared with its oily blood. Souvenirs of a long night’s rioting. As we drive, little wisps of tear gas seem to hang in the air like the rings of apple scented shisha smoke around the face of the man in the tiny Tahrir café. Unshaven and with a dirty scarf around his neck for the morning’s cold he looks straight ahead. “Welcome in Cairo” he says and he smiles a wide, tender smile. He tilts his head slightly. “Welcome in Tahir.” Cairo is vast. A sprawling metropolis that has straddled the Nile for 5000 years. Today, like the river in flood, it’s bursting at the seams. Nine million people live within the city crammed into whatever space they can find. A repository of Islamic culture for a thousand years, it is known as ‘The City of a thousand Minarets’. As Max Rodenbeck in his seminal ‘Cairo – The City Victorious’ has it, “Only one Cairo institution is more common that than the mosque: the qahwa or coffee house.” Twenty years ago Rodenbeck reckoned that there were well over 30,000 qahwas ranging from humble tea stalls to faded Belle-Époque palaces. This is where Cairenes come to meet and talk and discuss the world. In such an overcrowded city they are a pause, a break in the fabric of daily life and they allow the city to breathe. A poor man, even in these difficult, uncertain and revolutionary times, can be rich in his idleness for an hour and watch the world go by. Twilight on the second anniversary of the Revolution. Near The Ministry of the Interior, the army have erected huge concrete barriers that have become enormous canvasses for graffiti artists and defensive positions for stone-throwers. Around the corner is the Tahrir café...
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