Concrete heroes

Cairo's newest bridge promises smoother traffic, but does building it involve? Dena Rashed meets the men behind the construction work

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From top: the bridge, few days before the opening; the construction team working double shifts to meet the new deadline

Another sweltering summer day found engineers and workmen adding the finishing touches to the much anticipated extension connecting the 15 May Bridge in Zamalek to the 26 July Corridor, which leads all the way to the satellite 6 October City. Work on Cairo's newest, 700-metre- long bridge -- an LE23 million project involving some 600 people -- had accelerated dramatically when the deadline for its completion, initially scheduled for December 2006, became July. Location engineer Ahmed Shokri, 30, claimed his team was "used to working under pressure"; construction had started in August 2005 with a view to easing the pressure on one of Mohandessin's most focal points, Midan Lebnan, where the corridor starts, providing Cairo's downtown traffic with a faster route to suburbia. Some workers suggested that it was specifically for the benefit of Prime Minister Ahmed Nazif, who lives in 6 October, that work was accelerated -- an unlikely conjecture. Be that as it may, Shokri believes the complaints of Midan Lebnan residents and people who drive through the area to be one of the main obstacles he has had to face: "People can't accept the fact that we are simply doing our job, not that we coordinate with traffic police..." More significantly, urban planners are divided as to the efficacy of such "temporary solutions" as tunnels and bridges, which ease the pressure on the city, home to 17 million people, only to invite more traffic, with the number of vehicles periodically rising and the problem recurring again and again. For their part the workers present a different set of issues:

Steelworks supervisor Mohamed Abdel-Moneim, an employee of the Arab Contractors Company, which is undertaking the project, complained of the ever tighter schedule resulting in too heavy a workload, a situation that gets worse and worse as workmen fail to show up, leaving smaller numbers with an even greater load. A 12-hour shift, whether it starts at 8am or 8pm, is almost intolerable. "Being here all day, every day, makes it impossible for people to go home for lunch or have a rest like everybody else," Shokri explains. "We've been working during weekends and on national holidays as well." Nor is there sufficient financial compensation for this kind of work. As Abdel-Moneim -- married with three children, two of whom attend private schools -- says, "you become habituated to such tough work, this isn't the issue. Rather, it's financial responsibilities that will always be a problem." Life is tougher and tougher with the costs of living constantly on the rise. Headmen like Mohamed Helmi, 33, who has been with the company for 10 years, enjoy the benefits of a legal contract, but they are still paid by the day -- LE10-15 in Helmi's case. They have rather more to complain about. Though he can make more money working privately, Helmi prefers the stability and the limited insurance with which his contract provides him, covering work injuries but not illness: "My hope is to become a real employer for the company, something I've been trying to do for many years." Attia Abbas, a drivers' supervisor, concurred: "The size of the workforce makes it difficult to employ everyone."

Others, indeed, have sought better prospects in Gulf countries, where, though the pay is significantly higher, working conditions are more difficult. Helmi says he is in no position to travel: "Of course I'd like to work in the Gulf, but I got married only a few months ago." As the convention dictates, Helmi had had to wait for his sisters to get married before he could envision a home of his own; naturally that depended on him saving enough money for their dowries. For his part Abbas, 45, is rather more confident: "I used to work there in the 1980s. It's true you are better paid, but at the greater cost of separation from your family. That's why I decided to come back; my children needed a father to look after them and supervise their studies. Workmen should grab this opportunity while they're still young, with no commitments back home." This found confirmation in the words of one young engineer, soon to be travelling himself but speaking on condition of anonymity: "A good engineer is like a professional footballer; he should be able to move to where he gets a better offer at any time." This makes the larger picture far from inspiring: according to Abbas, "25 of our most talented engineers are leaving for better deals in the Gulf". On a happier note, veterans like executive supervisor Mohamed Abdel-Aziz are unfazed by the noise and the physical exertion: "Bridges are, after all, far better than tunnels. You get used to the work, anyway, under pressure -- wherever you have to be in the country." In a few days, indeed, all these men will be relocating; most don't know where to; most have no preferences. According to Helmi, "it doesn't matter -- we do what we have to do." In the end, as Abdel-Moneim puts it, "walking on a bridge or through a tunnel you've taken part in building yourself makes up for all hardship. It makes you truly proud."