Disinherited Egyptians have always vented about their government but, as Dina Ezzat finds out, they may have better reason to do so now than ever before "Of course I don't follow traffic regulations," snapped Ismail, a taxi driver in his late 40s. "Why should I? Who follows any rules in this country? Does the government itself follow rules?" A laid- off accountant, Ismail is a newcomer to the world of taxis and would much rather not be associated with it. "Of course, the way newspapers like yours report it, you would say people like me opted for early retirement. Actually it was more like being fired through no fault of my own." Just as this traffic is suffocating, he added, so are the living conditions of Egyptians. "It was wrong not to go on strike," he says, together with other colleagues who were laid off. "It was just not something people did in those days," he says regretfully, when the privatisation programme took off and many companies besides his own were sold to the private sector. "Now workers, people of all kinds, are protesting. And it's a good thing too, because if our voice isn't heard this government of yours will go right ahead and sell the people!" It was at this point that he put on a patriotic song by Abdel-Halim, repeating the name of Gamal Abdel-Nasser along with the late icon: "Nasser -- we're all around him. Nasser -- our eyes are on him. Nasser -- for whom the people are inspiration and hope..." Now Ismail may be a typical taxi driver in the way he deals with traffic, but the way he thinks has never been that common in the trade. As for his discontent with the government, however, though he may not be in the majority, it is clear that he is no longer in the minority. These days contempt for the government is rife. And it is more and more visible on the streets of Cairo and at every conceivable level. Day in, day out, the independent press ladles it out in the form of news reports: a group of forensic examiners go on strike after their contracts are abruptly terminated; citizen storm the bakeries to take hold of wheat stocks after the government fails to dispel fears of dwindling wheat supplies -- a strategic as well as popular concern; the left-wing Tagammu Party organises a small demonstration downtown to protest against the questionable way in which the Banque du Caire is being privatised... The contempt has even made it into state-run and - owned media, with complaints about transportation and health services -- the most recurrent in the slew of public service issues being raised -- appearing on Egyptian TV talk shows and semi-official newspapers' letters to the editor. And more than they have ever done in the past, officials are responding, mostly through state-controlled channels but increasingly in the independent media as well. They have to. "The people are obviously becoming more vocal about the problems they face," one sales assistant at the public department store Hannaux commented. "It's the only thing that pays off." Speaking on condition of anonymity, the 44-year-old added that rumours of Hannaux being privatised have been circulating among those working there. "And if it happens, of course, we will demonstrate. Otherwise we'll end up jobless." Harassment and arrest would be obvious risks -- this, he explained, is why he is withholding his name -- but if Hannaux were to be privatised he would have no other choice but to face them. Demonstrations have no doubt been on the rise, with activists protesting against insufficient political reforms, workers' unfair pay, residents' lack of drinking water, farmers' increasing costs of fertilisers; more recently people have been demonstrating about the pace and scope of privatisation. According to economist Ahmed El-Naggar, while demonstrating remains an important element, "it should not be the only way in which to address the government. Serious action should be taken on the part of the people; otherwise the government won't listen." Addressing a small group of people at the Tagammu Party headquarters, gathered to protest against the privatisation of the Banque du Caire, El-Naggar called on all those with accounts in the bank to end dealings with it "and so render the bank worthless for the potential buyer". To applause, he added, "this is a moment for the people to show their contempt of government policies." For his part, speaking on the same occasion, economist Karima El-Koraim added, "we will continue to say no until the government listens to us. We will resume our defiance until the government realises it has to talk to the people, that the destiny of this nation can only be determined through dialogue undertaken on the basis of mutual respect." Not far from the Tagammu headquarters, the applause accorded to a group of young men and women performing the 90-minute musical Different Coloured Trees Growing in the Same Mud at the Townhouse Gallery bore further testimony to the contemptuous tide, which seems to be infusing the whole of society: the musical -- drawing on the work of oppositional writers, particularly the Ahmed Fouad Negm-Imam Eissa duo -- was political satire, and it was not subtle. Composed mainly of fresh graduates, the troupe, called The Mud, is particularly concerned with political questions and this has been their most successful performance in five years. According to Salam Yossri, the director, "the artist is sensitive to the mood of society." With the political and social contempt now seen, it is only natural that an artist should focus on politics: "I am not a political activist and I don't need to be one to realise there is something wrong." Having refused to join any party, doggedly, Yossri maintains that a play is as effective as, "if not more effective than", a demonstration. "It speaks to everyone, those who demonstrate and those who don't. And that's why, having had such a response, we will go on performing."
