In his 40 years as a street vendor, Ahmed Saeed has sold it all: from kitchen appliances to shoes, nightgowns to wristwatches. Today, he’s selling backpacks bearing images of cartoon characters Spongebob Squarepants and Ben 10, and a little boy reading the Quran under the inscription, “magic child.” Tomorrow, who knows?
Tomorrow, however, remains uncertain. “I could be out of a job,” the sexagenarian shrugs. “I could be on the street.”
Unfortunately, Saeed’s idea of what constitutes the “street” differs from that held by the current acting governor of Cairo, General Tayseer Makram, and therein lies the problem.
Over the past two weeks, and on Makram’s orders, Cairo police have intensified their efforts to clear the city’s streets of all vendors, along with their stands, carts and unregistered kiosks. The neighboring governorate of Giza has also experienced a similar wave of unrest. Sudden stampedes of vendors rushing down the street, merchandise clutched to their chests or held above their heads as they flee from baladeya (municipality) raids, have become a common sight.
As a result, Saeed, who operates out of a small shack on the corner of Imbaba’s Gamea Street — a long, trash-strewn main road that, one week earlier, had been a bustling, longstanding marketplace — is as restless with anxiety as the rest of the governorates’ remaining unregistered entrepreneurs.
“I opened my store at 5 pm today,” he sighs, explaining that raids usually occur during the daytime hours. It’s a cautious move, and one that has halved his working hours and, correspondingly, profits. His business neighbor, Islam Ahmed, isn’t as willing to compromise. “If they make me leave, I’ll come back. They can’t watch this spot 24 hours a day.”
“If you come back,” Saeed grumbles in reply, “they’ll confiscate your merchandise and auction it off.”
“Then I’ll be forced to steal, or sell drugs,” the 27-year old-retaliates. “Because that seems to be what the government wants me to do.”
This is not a new debate. The government has attempted to clear the streets of vendors before, whether through half-hearted initiatives or campaigns, or sporadic raids. Similarly, Makram’s announcement of rotating “one-day-marketplaces,” where ousted vendors can set up shop, so to speak, and sell their wares has also been previously tested, albeit on a smaller scale. Unfortunately, and as can be seen by a brief stroll through virtually any Cairo neighborhood, that particular initiative saw little success.
“We’re not opposed to the idea of moving, or enforcing order,” Ahmed, calmer now, explains. “We don’t want people thinking we’re thugs or squatters trying to take what we have no right to take. We’ll leave if the government tells us to, but first they need to provide us with locations where we can continue to make the same living, if not a better one. And that hasn’t been the case.”
Mohamed Fawzy, one of the many vendors populating the improvised marketplace that has spawned along the sidewalks around the Cairo train station, is similarly dismissive of the “one-day market” concept.
“What will this do for the family man, the breadwinner,” he asks, “other than wear out his health and pockets by forcing him to change location daily?”
Based on his own experiences, the elderly Saeed agrees, stating, “I’ve been to a few of the government-designated marketplaces before. I didn’t stay because I wouldn’t have survived.”
Saeed describes a chaotic atmosphere that, most critically, was “too far from my home and life [in Imbaba], and offered a fraction of the clientele,” which he, as well as his neighboring vendors, claims have come to depend on the marketplace growing outside their front doors.
“The residents [of the area] come to us for all their needs,” Ahmed insists. “They count themselves lucky to have everything made available to them right here.
“And we’re considerate to them, as well,” he continues. “Some of us even turn our music down at midnight.”
Hearing it from the residents, though, it’s a different story. “Of course we’re not lucky,” Amal Ibrahim, a longtime resident of Gamea Street says, taking obvious offense at the suggestion. “Unless you think living surrounded by trash and crowds and noise is lucky.
“We [residents] can all do without having to force our way through that mess on a daily basis,” she continues. “There are tons of other places where I can buy cheap belts and shoes. I don’t need to do it right outside my building.”
Unsurprisingly, Ibrahim strongly hopes the vendors “don’t come back, like they do, every time.”
Ramy Yehia also sells clothes on Gamea Street, albeit from a registered establishment, complete with four walls, a roof, electricity, and even air-conditioning. He has no sympathy for his unregistered colleagues. “Those guys should have gone a long time ago,” the 30-year-old employee of Forster Clothing says. “But like every problem in this country, it’s only being addressed now that it’s too late to do anything about it.”
According to Yehia, Imbaba’s vendors have only done the neighborhood and its residents harm. “Cabs won’t even come here anymore because they know they’ll get stuck in the market’s mess and their cars will get banged up. Real estate prices have also suffered because of the market.”
Looking up from the socks she was stacking, his assistant, a large veiled girl, intervenes with a whisper. “And the sexual harassment,” she says to Yehia, before turning back to her socks.
“Yeah, or the harassment,” he continues. “That poor girl has gone through hell coming in to work every day. People couldn’t walk in this neighborhood. They weren’t being allowed to live in a residential area.
“These vendors take to the street, and they drag everything down to their level,” Yehia fumes. “They’re there and in your way, and as a resident, you can’t do anything about it.”
Which might be why, when referring to the vendors, Governor Makram mostly sticks to the term “obstacles.” Speaking to Egypt Independent, the acting governor explains how his administration aims to solve a “critical issue” through the implementation of a two-stage plan, the first of which is currently being enforced.
“The one-day-marketplace will offer a viable, temporary solution, and we’ve put a great deal of effort into organizing it and coordinating with the vendors, so that they’re each given a specific location and schedule to stick to,” Makram explains. When he hears that none of the vendors spoken to by Egypt Independent admitted to having received such information, Makram clarifies, “it’s still an ongoing process.”
The second stage, to be implemented once the first is successfully achieved, involves the creation of permanent marketplaces in locations where the vendors involved won’t be deemed as obstacles. Furthermore, “these vendors will be properly registered and given permits, as well as certain benefits, such as health insurance.” The vendors will also receive special attention from local community groups, which Makram claims his administration is working with.
For the time being, vendors who refuse to cooperate will “have to answer to the law,” Makram asserts, explaining that said violations will usually carry some sort of fine and confiscation of merchandise, rather than a prison sentence.
“We need to restore order,” Makram says, several times. “Are you happy with what you’re seeing out on the streets? The chaos and disarray? How uncivilized everything appears?”
In the past year and a half, Makram claims, chaos has “gotten out of hand. When it comes to street vendors, it’s a problem people have been complaining about for years, but that has recently exploded into a crisis. This is the first step towards restoring order, and it’s an important one. Without similar campaigns, we will never move forward.”
While Makram and his administration continue to clear the way forward, vendors across Cairo and Giza are bracing themselves for the coming change. Himself one of many “obstacles” removed from the path of his neighborhood residents, Ahmed Islam remains worried about the ones being placed in his own path. “No matter what you do,” he sighs, “you still end up being set on the path you’ve been working so hard to avoid.”
