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Al-Ahram Weekly 11 - 17 March 1999 Issue No. 420 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 11 - 17 March 1999 Issue No. 420
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Focus Special Features Travel Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Boats and the bambouti
By Zeinab Abul-Gheit
Like the dragomen at archaeological sites, the days of the bambouti are numbered. The former were self-acclaimed tour guides who frequently related ancient folklore with a touch of humour rather than history, and often more amusing than today's highly qualified, multi-lingual guides. The latter, bambouti or bum-boatsmen (derived from bum-boats), were happy-go-lucky individuals who energetically plied their trade from small rowing boats beside the gigantic hulls of ships docking in Port Said. Holding up Khan Al-Khalili-type products and trinkets, and bargaining for all they were worth with potential customers on board, deals would be concluded, and the delivery made by rope. Payment was received the same way.
On a recent visit to the docks at Port Said I realised just how much things have changed. No longer do bambouti row their boats to ships; they now display their goods on the dock. There are few customers. That delightful scene to watch from deck or shore is a thing of the past, and I could only reminisce.
There was always a race to get there, to make the first sale. It was a colourful scene, a booming trade, lots of laughter and good business.
Changing times for shoppers in Port Said. Dwindling numbers of bambouti traders still ply their trade but no longer from their moored boats. Today they sell their goods and trinkets up on the quay front itself
photos: Abdel-Hamid Eid
There are now shops instead of boats and trade has become stagnant. Of the estimated 400 bambouti who worked in the harbour and provided for their families, no more than 115 are currently contracting with the Port Said Authority. Each has an anchor for his boat and pays LE31 yearly as rent. But this situation will also soon come to an end. The Authority will enable them to take possession of shops along the quay, the rent of which has not yet been decided.
I walked around the harbour, listened to tales of woe and wondered at the imminent extinction of one of the most appealing tourist attractions. Why do the "authorities" always decide what is best for the tourist? Do visitors really want to walk past hundreds of small shops, one after the other, their showcases packed with thousands of variants of familiar products; or would they prefer to laugh, banter and barter with the bambouti in their boats?
I remember the jostling of the rowing boats for prime position; the rate at which the price of products would drop: "Genuine Bedouin shawl twenty bounds ['p' always being pronounced as a 'b'];" "Take mine, only fifteen!" "Trust me, sir, this is genuine. What colour you want? Only ten bounds!" "Five bounds, four bounds... any shawl for four bounds."
Well, now they are gone. The era of the luxurious cruise around the Mediterranean in luxury liners has passed. The vessels used to remain for several days in port, and the Port Said bambouti made lucrative deals with both traveller and crew. Now tourist companies arrange for full-day excursions to Cairo and Giza for the passengers, where they have a chance to visit historical sites, museums, and, of course, buy all the products that they once bought from the bambouti.
And as for the crew, oil tankers and cargo vessels employ cheap labour from Pakistan, India and the Philippines, and they have no surplus money to buy what they regard as trivia.
One might dream about the 'good old days', and fantasize that things were better then. But that, of course, is unrealistic. The sons of the bambouti are now doctors, lawyers and engineers. One, I was told, is a governor. The bambouti apparently did so well at their trade that they were able to educate their sons, and those who venture into professional life want a shop, not a boat. They prefer to haggle over the polished counter of a showcase than on the choppy waters of the harbour.
Ahmed El-Nakib is the head of the Bambouti Association -- yes, there is one -- and he confirmed that their situation has greatly changed. "Until the '80s, the bambouti did good business, making from LE30-50 per day. Now they do not even make LE40 per month. This is a pity. They cannot afford to educate their children."
Mahmoud El-Habak complained: "When I sell my stock, there is no money to buy replacement goods. I 'eat' my capital."
There is a problem, but can it be solved? It seems unlikely. Hajj Youssef Marzouk, secretary of the Bambouti Association, puts the blame on the new 'Tafri'aa', the Suez Canal bypass established in 1975. "Supertankers no longer enter Port Said at all, they pass from Port Fouad to Suez directly," he said.
El-Nakib laments that the new corniche project around the harbour, carried out in 1995, has harmed the remaining boats. "The wooden roof which protected them was removed and most of the bambouti's boats were damaged," he said, adding, "Now even the wooden boxes in which they store their goods are rotting."
Is there a solution? Perhaps. El-Nakib ventured that: "If the Port Said governor and head of the Port Authority agree to mooring steamers once more in Port Said instead of Al-Ballah, this would activate the trade; if licences could be extended for three, rather than just one year; if they could be granted an import quota..." The list is endless, and, unfortunately, the tide cannot be turned.
