Cairo: A New Sense of Pride

Cairo is only about 80 miles west of the Sinai desert. Yet judging from the outward appearance of the city early last week, the great tank battle being fought on the desert could have been a thousand miles away. Since the war started, the Egyptian capital has carried on with business as usual.

During the day, the air is filled with the clatter of jammed streetcars and the bawling of street vendors. Taxi drivers curse other motorists, while the wail of Arabic music from countless transistors is everywhere. Periodically the radio broadcasts a low-keyed statement from the government on the latest developments in the war.

All of this is in sharp contrast to the mood of the city during the Six-Day War of 1967. Then, Egyptian leaders thumped their chests and issued a barrage of communiques proclaiming victories that had never occurred; loudspeakers on Cairo's streets blared the stirring rhythms of martial music; and people poured into the streets, almost hysterical with joy, thinking they were destroying the Israeli armed forces.

The 5,000,000 Cairenes seem affected mostly by what the war has done to their observance of Ramadan--the holy month of Islam during which devout Moslems abstain totally from food, drink and tobacco from sunrise to sunset. From Cairo, TIME Correspondent Wilton Wynn reports that "normally, Ramadan nights are more lively than the days. The Cairene's habit is to have an enormous 'lunch' at about 2 a.m. and go out on the town celebrating. But now, because of the war, restaurants shut at 11 p.m., as do most cabarets."

Besides dampening the nightly revelry of Ramadan, the war has affected Cairo in other ways. Street life comes to a halt during the infrequent alerts, as the people duck into air-raid shelters. Thanks to the war, Cairenes are paying more for food and for bus and train fares, driving their cars less because of gasoline rationing, and eating less meat. With the opening of Cairo's universities delayed, many of the 130,000 students have entered the army or the civil defense force. Crowds form in front of the military hospital on Roda Island in the Nile River, waiting quietly to visit relatives who were wounded in the fighting. Overhead they can hear the even-spaced drone of Soviet cargo planes, flying new war supplies into Cairo airport.

No one seems to complain. Wynn reports that most of those in the capital feel that the tenacity with which Egyptian forces defended their bridgeheads in Sinai during the first dozen days of the war reinforced the new sense of pride that Cairenes have felt since the army launched its surprise attack. One Cairo citizen told Wynn: "These new taxes and prices are backbreaking. But never mind. We are no longer under the heels of the Israelis." An Egyptian businessman who frequently travels to Britain admitted: "After the 1967 war I refused to go to London. I couldn't hold up my head and face my British friends. Now, after these past ten days, I wouldn't mind traveling again."

This new pride is also reflected in the Egyptian attitude toward foreigners. During the 1967 war, non-Arabs were regarded as spies or enemies. Angry mobs often formed about them. During the past two weeks, however, the Egyptians have been friendly and hospitable to foreigners--even Americans.

As the week ended, the newspapers began reporting the massive tank battles that were raging in Sinai. Red-bannered headlines blared: SAVAGE ARMOUR BATTLES ALL DAY AND NIGHT. Yet neither the government nor the papers had yet admitted the true extent of the Israeli advances on the west bank of the Suez Canal. Apparently oblivious to the Israeli troops less than 60 miles away, Cairenes continued to crowd the cafes of New Street, where men sat sipping thick coffee and intently playing chess and backgammon. Worshipers gathered at the mosque of Zeinab for noon prayers. Peddlers, as always, hawked their roses on the streets.

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