Traffic

I recently read 'The Urge to Merge', a New York Times Magazine article by Cynthia Gorney in which she argues that "the North American driving populace" is made up of two distinct "camps": one camp being that of the Line-Uppers, those who respectfully form a line in the lane which leads to their desired exit, and the second being the Side-Zoomers, those who carelessly cruise in an open lane and, by means of force or affected ignorance and apology, merge into their desired lane seconds before the exit ramp. She goes on to explain, rather counterintuitively, that the most efficient solution to this common traffic phenomenon would require that the Side-Zoomers continue in their seemingly selfish ways, and that the Line-Uppers, in a brief and spontaneous act of random kindness, simply allow the Side-Zoomers to merge, without complaint or hesitation. The sight of such a thing would be breathtaking. Imagine the seamless merging of two lanes into one. In which every car had only to slow down enough to allow ample room for a car to fit in front of them (40, or 50 feet, at most). At this point in the explanation of Gorney's article I typically clasp my hands, in a here-is-the-church-and-here-is-the-steeple fashion, and I say 'You know, like a zipper'. Apparently there are ant populations that do this naturally, in their daily commutes to and from the Hill. And yet our highly intelligent population of suit-wearing, socially-productive, Starbucks-drinking commuters cannot seem to fathom the notion of charity for the common good. The above rant has very little to do with Cairo, but I have been thinking a lot about traffic. There are 300 million people in the U.S. There are 80 million in Egypt. There are about 40,000 traffic deaths in the U.S. every year. Given the New York Times' description of Cairene traffic as "chaos", the comparative utter lack of pedestrian and vehicular infrastructure, and the anecdotal evidence that paints crossing Cairo's streets as being akin to playing "Frogger" but with higher stakes, one might assume that the number of Egypt's traffic deaths should be, at the very least, proportionally equivalent to that of the United States: around 10,600 given Egypt's size. There are 6,000 traffic deaths a year in Egypt. Why?

Steven Cook suggests that a set of informal, unspoken rules dictate the flow of traffic. And, once understood, these rules effectively prevent accidents and govern vehicular interactions. I'll go further to say that Cairene traffic is an organic being that flows through the city, beautiful in its squalor, ordered in its chaos. Its body parts communicate by means of sonar, a honk here, a honk there, sounding constant but rarely irate. Where an American street might fit 100 cars, in Egypt there are ستة آلاف (six thousand, in the words of an eloquent taxi-driver). And yet they exist in a peaceful harmony of yells and beeps. Rearview mirrors are few and far between, seat-belts seemingly non-existent, both are merely counterparts to traffic lights and divider lines, remnants or reminders of a profoundly different type of driving, a type of driving that is dictated by formality and uniformity and order. Such protocol does not dictate the animal that at times creeps, and at times sprints throughout Cairo. Maybe there is some informal set of rules, or maybe that is merely a Western mind's interpretation. If a horn honks in Cairo, but it is drowned out by the Call to Prayer, does it really make a sound?