You’ll find your fair share of rogue cops everywhere and anywhere. I can still remember the time when I lived in Cairo and I was advised by everyone to stay away from police stations. Don’t even walk near one, they used to tell me. Well, as luck would have it…
The first time wasn’t that bad, but it sent a signal as to how cops behave in Egypt, and how for a very long time they got away with things. Lest we forget what happened to Khaled Saeed, who was murdered by the police in Alexandria in June 2010, and who become a symbol of the Mubarak regime’s brutality.
I had accompanied a friend to a police station after his house was burgled. Before the officer took a statement, he chided my friend in Arabic saying, “Must you bring the whole tribe to the station?” I am not Egyptian, incidentally, but I could pass off as someone from the Middle East or the Mediterranean.
There had been several other incidences, like the time a policeman grabbed me by the collar and prevented me from entering the Egyptian national museum. I managed to convince a senior officer who approached that my intention to visit the museum was purely touristic with no plans to steal the dagger of King Tut or bomb the place.
But it was in Kerdassa, a famous Egyptian village known for its handicrafts, trinkets, brassware and souvenirs that I soon tasted how scary things can be. Another Egyptian friend had offered to take me to the village. When I was done shopping, my friend wanted to go to the mosque to pray. Meanwhile, I waited outside the mosque, located beside a small police station. A few cops, some in civilian attire, some in black uniforms with rifles, huddled outside the compound, smoking. The distance between us, maybe 30 meters. All of a sudden one of the men turned and yelled at me, twice. I ignored him. I guess my three large bags of shopping goodies looked delicious.
The cop, along with another, then walked towards me. He stood in front of me while his colleague positioned himself behind me, rifle in hand. The front man queried in Arabic what I was doing in the village (as if it was not obvious) in a voice he thought would intimidate me. I didn’t reply and instead chose to play dumb. But I didn’t appreciate the way he spoke to me. He then insisted that I follow him back to the station. At that moment I gestured that I wanted to procure my passport from my jacket. I handed it over. The cop man was taken aback. “Agnaby (Foreigner)?” he asked. I nodded with a grin. They left me. I guess it was a bad day to go fishing.
Had I been an ordinary Egyptian, things would have turned out differently.
