Egypt's Neverending Stories - Anecdotes from the Land of Pharaohs

Bakr has to join the army

In the neighborhoods where Bakr lives, everyone knows him. He spends his days on the streets, going here and there and sitting in the cafes. Even though he's very small and slight, people respect him quite a bit - or rather, they are a little bit afraid. When he's angry, eating cherries with him isn't good. All of his neighbors know that and try not to provoke him or get in trouble with him. Ever since he was little, Bakr had spent his days keeping people busy on his street.

As a little boy, he was always beating up other kids. His mother received almost daily visits from other parents who complained about Bakr and had their crying sons or daughters with them. Bakr's mother always tried her best, promising to punish Bakr and talk to him to make things better. At first she stuck to it. She scolded her son, put him over her knee or locked him in the small feeding room. After a while, however, she resigned. Scolding Bakr, he just shrugged. Slapping his face, he just laughed. Locking him in, he just slept and waited for the door to open again. And as he got older, a lock was no longer an obstacle for him anyway. When he wasn't tired and a little sleep was just fine, he just picked the lock and was gone.

Later in his youth he gathered other boys around him. He was the smallest of them all, but the undisputed boss. His gang spent the days letting other kids sell small souvenirs and taking all but pennies of the money they earned at night. Those who disobeyed were beaten. If, from time to time, the parents of a bullied child dared to go to their mother, the child who had spoken, suffered even more beatings. The police knew about Bakr and his gang. It was not uncommon for them to turn up at his place and he was taken away. Then he sat in the Kalabosh* for a few hours. But that had no effect either. As in the feeding room, he lay down, slept, and waited for the key to turn and he could walk again.

The years passed and his 18th birthday was just around the corner. His mother and his whole neighborhood had longed for this day. From the age of 18, young Egyptians have to start their military service and as Bakr of course rarely saw the inside of the school and had no diploma, this meant that he soon had to serve in the army for three years**.

Everyone was excited. Every day one or the other asked him whether he had already reported to the responsible authority in the provincial capital? And when his appointment for the examination was? At last it was time! The day had come when Bakr had to present himself to the military and be examined. Early in the morning he left his mother's house, who was already waiting for him at the open front door and, after waving at him briefly, quickly closed it. The people who were already on the street and saw him getting on the bus either grinned to themselves or laughed out loud. Some even clapped their hands and when two were together, they congratulated each other for this wonderful morning. Bakr's departure was the topic of discussions in the neighborhood all day, and it was also talked about on the adjacent streets. Everyone was happy, everyone looked forward to three quiet years. And everyone hoped that time in the military would change Bakr and he would come back a better person. Discipline and hard service had already enabled many of them to come back without any silly ideas and lead a normal life.

So evening came. The sun had set and most people were sitting relaxed in front of their houses with tea and shisha. The atmosphere was as good as it gets, and the thought of Bakr having to spend his first night in a barracks made many laughing and even patting their thighs.

Suddenly, however, it became quiet. In the twilight a small figure came down the street and at every house it passed the happy laughter stopped and silence spread. It was Bakr on his way home.

After the first had recovered from this shock, everyone pounced on him with the same - only important - questions. "Why aren't you in the military?" "What happened?" "Why are you here?"

Bakr looked at everyone in turn, then he said, "I got good marks at the screening. I am strong and muscular and very healthy. The doctors and officers said I would make a good soldier. At the very end, however, they measured my height. They did it twice and kept looking at the tape measure and shaking their heads. Then they said, 'We're very sorry! You can't become a soldier. You have to be at least 1.60m tall to be admitted. You're 1,59m"!'"

*Arabic word for prison

**In Egypt, military service lasts three years for men without a school diploma, two years with diploma and one year for those who have completed their studies.