A Problem with Stereotyping

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Egypt is a very poor country. By definition, any foreigner who can afford to visit the country is comparatively rich. The result is that visitors are constantly approached by Egyptians who want to sell them something or to do something for them that will merit the payment of a tip. So, as a foreign visitor, you soon learn to brush aside offers of help from local people. However, sometimes can sometimes lead to problems.

On one trip to Cairo, I had to take a train to another city. I took a taxi to the main railroad station and carried my bag inside. Like most large public buildings in Cairo, it was a chaotic scene, with thousands of people milling around and making an incredible amount of noise.

I fought my way over to the timetable board and stood there trying to work out the time of the next train for my destination.

Within seconds I was approached by a small man wearing a European-style suit. To my surprise, he addressed me in excellent English. "Good morning, sir. Are you British?" I told him that I was. "And where do you want to go?" I told him.

"That is no problem," he said. "I am the station manager. Come up to my office and I will arrange everything for you."

"Here we go again," I thought. "Someone else who wants to supplement his pathetic government salary with a tip from a foreigner."

However, I wasn't in the mood to deal with the chaos of the station on my own and so I decided it would be worth going with him.

He took me upstairs to his office, which overlooked the chaos of the main concourse.

He told me the price of the ticket and I gave him the cash. (Surprisingly, the price he quoted was the price I had been told it would cost; he hadn't added a "commission".)

Then he sent a minion to buy my ticket and another minion to bring me a Kitty-Kola.

We sat and chatted, and he told me how he had started working for the railroad back in the days when it was operated by the British.

A few minutes before the scheduled departure time of my train, he called in another minion to carry my bag and then personally walked me to the train.

He led me to my seat, had his minion stow my bag in the luggage rack, and then had a porter dust down my seat.

"It has been a pleasure talking with you," he said. "And I hope you have a pleasant journey."

He stood and waited.

Well, he had been very helpful. I pulled out a 5 pound note, which was probably as much as he earned a week. I handed him the note.

He was visibly appalled. He handed the note back and drew himself up to his full 5' 3".

"I do not want your money, sir. I did not help you for money. I am the station master. You are British. I wanted you to see that I operate this station exactly the same way you British used to operate it when you were here in Egypt."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

I felt about 6" tall.

So much for creating or perpetuating stereotypes of other nationalities and cultures!