Yesterday was my first and only “true” day of summer. The sun was shining, I swam a few laps in a pristine, Olympic-sized pool, and spent the rest of the day reading and lounging poolside with a few friends. All in all, a very pleasant experience.
Step back for a second. I am in Egypt right now, a developing country in which the provision of clean water to the citizenry is still a major issue. I would venture to guess that less than one percent of the population has ever seen a swimming pool, much less swam in one. While I technically was still in Egypt yesterday, I spent the day in “New Cairo,” a sheltered, phantasmagorical development on the outskirts of Cairo that resembles an upscale suburb of Los Angeles. New Cairo is home, appropriately, to the American University of Cairo’s “New Campus.” AUC’s new home is beautiful. The campus is spacious, the buildings are built in a modern Islamic style that is reminiscent of both the alleyways of Damascus and adobe brick buildings in the American Southwest, and the campus has just about every resource that an American college student is used to (a huge library, beautiful sports complex, WiFi-equipped classrooms, etc.)
The fact that this beautiful campus is in Egypt, though, is decidedly weird. That is not to say that Egypt is not worthy of such a place. Indeed, I’m sure that any Egyptian student would be happy to attend AUC over other Egyptian universities (which tend to lack even the most basic facilities and services and are often just as corrupt as other institutions in the country were under Mubarak). But AUC in general is not composed of Egyptians from all walks of life. It has a reputation for being an exclusive, country-club like university for the children of Egypt’s elite. Classes are primarily in English, there is an “Americana” food court, and it costs $4 just to ride the bus from the center of Cairo to the new campus (a significant fee for all but the richest in this society).
Indeed, the new AUC campus and its surroundings are emblematic of the huge chasm between Egypt’s ultra-rich and the rest of the population. Although Mubarak’s economic and social policies wreaked havoc on the poor during his 30 years in power, the economic liberalization that he oversaw allowed for the formation of a privileged upper-class. The new AUC Campus (and New Cairo in general) are manifestations of the chasm between Egypt’s ultra-rich and the rest of the population. Whereas the average Egyptian living in an urban area resides in a cramped apartment building, takes public transportation, and buys his food from street vendors, the average resident of New Cairo resides in a villa-like house, has one or more cars, and shops at the local mall.
Many Egyptians will certainly tell you that they aspire to live in a place like New Cairo. The residents of New Cairo all enjoy the amenities of life that we in the West could not dream of living without, and which the international community has focused on promoting in the developing world. But New Cairo, in my opinion, does not represent “development” in any meaningful sense of the word. It is easy to forget the hardships of daily life in Egypt while lounging at the AUC pool. There is a fine line, however, between simply living and working in an wealthy, calm area away from the bustle of the city and isolating yourself to the point where you lose all perspective of the way that the other 99% of the society lives.
