Serenity Now!

Cairo's incredible noise problem is well documented. The most frequently cited study recorded noise levels across the city over a five-year period and reported that the average noise from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. is 85 decibels, which is the equivalent of a freight train passing only 15 feet away. That's the average noise level. When it's bad, the sound is equivalent to actually being hit by a passing freight train.

I'm afraid my neighborhood is no different. As another Sunday morning begins much earlier than I'd like, I thought I'd make a list of the things that most often wake me up. This is the noise that somehow manages to rise above the constant hum; that makes its way through my window, into my apartment and into my head. This is not a list of things I like.

The Baker. Every morning, you can hear the baker call out "aish! aish!" to announce the morning's batch of bread. There's something about his voice - it just can't be imitated. That doesn't stop everyone in the apartment, including me, from trying just that every time we make a sandwich. Maybe I actually do like this one, but I'd like it a lot more if it happened around noon.

The Propane Salesman. His sales pitch doesn't really rely on the quality of his voice. He just pushes around an empty propane tank and hits it with a wrench every fifteen seconds. "Bang, bang, bang, bang. I have an empty propane tank."

The Hi-Fi Donkey Cart. Not wanting to strain his voice either, this guy uses a microphone and speakers, which a very stressed donkey pulls around in a cart. They make their way though the neighborhood and every twenty seconds or so, the man stops to make a short announcement. At first I assumed his message was political, because who else goes around with a megaphone forcing himself into everyone's heads? I learned that he's actually saying "bring me your broken electronics! I will take them away. Me and the donkey you see here? We will take your old things!" This is a useful service and is as close to recycling as Cairo gets, but the loud speaker? No! I'm very worried that someone will inadvertently give him the kind of electronics that allow him to upgrade his speaker system.

The cars. Traffic is loud in Cairo no matter where you are. It is without a doubt the city's greatest aesthetic fault. I get angry just thinking about it. Cairenes suffer from a pathological need to constantly use the horn. Cars sometimes pass me as I walk down an empty (of pedestrians) street, but they'll still honk once they've already driven past me, almost as an apology for having forgotten to senselessly honk at me earlier. I think the reason there are no stoplights in this city is because if there were, the maddened residents stuck living next to one would tear it down its first day. The Cairene response to anything that slows them down is to lay on the horn. A red light could expect the exact same treatment. They would just honk at it until it changed color. There is no "insh'allah" when it comes to driving; faith is replaced by the real world actions of a man and his horn. God, I hate the cars here.

Noises I do like

Every now and then, you'll come upon a celebration of some sort. There are moulids for the different Muslim and Christian saints, weddings, funerals (which are surprisingly upbeat affairs) and birthdays. I appreciate joyful noise. Only cranks don't appreciate joyful noise.

Sometime the call to prayer can still get me, particularly when the acoustics are such that I can distinguish one muezzin from the blended voices of a thousand other calls to prayer across the city. It really is extraordinary.