Skateboarding in Cairo

Article by: Baxter Jackson, August 2007

On my daily skate to the Sakanat metro stop, I feel very far from California.

When I skate through Ma'adi, one of the greenest and most affluent suburbs in the city, jaws drop. Like Dogtown's ‘Z-Boys' - the Santa Monica skate crew who took boards to the streets and revolutionised skating culture - I get a good dose of incredulous looks as I thunder down the road.

On my daily skate to the Sakanat metro stop, I feel very far from California. Instead of bleached-blonde beach girls I see women whose dark eyes are lined with black kohl and whose veiled hair is modestly pinned in place. Instead of the ubiquitous baseball hat and board shorts (a unisex uniform in California) I see turbans and galabayyas (a floor-length gown worn by both men and women).

In overcrowded Cairo, the competition for space is fierce. Rattletrap Fiats, bicycles, scooters and rickety Peugeot taxis battle noisily for their share of the road. Dilapidated minibuses scramble around the city's arteries, unrepentantly belching noxious black smoke. They whiz about the roundabouts, where Egyptian families often picnic on the circular patches of grass. Two lanes often end up accommodating five cars abreast. Passing on either side and driving down the middle of the road is perfectly acceptable and triple-parking in downtown is the norm. Skateboarding in Cairo is definitely an extreme sport.

Some Cairenes smile at my skateboarding acrobatics...others get scared and shoo me away.

Picnickers and passengers turn puzzled faces as I skate by. With petrol this cheap, why would anyone be pushing himself around? Some Cairenes smile at my skateboarding acrobatics, give me the thumbs up or even yell, 'Meya, meya!' (literally meaning '100! 100!', but translating as something close to 'Awesome!') as they sip their shai (tea) or puff on their sheesha (water pipes) in the city's endless cafes. Others get scared and shoo me away, or warn me that I can't 'play' there anymore. One time, after I ground my way across some grimy marble stairs at the Sakanat metro station, a stout, matronly woman in a veil waddled up to me, wagged her finger and yelled (in English, no less), 'This is Metro, not club!'

Despite the occasional scolding, there's something exhilarating about freewheeling your way through all this mayhem. Here's some of the best places to get on board.