Yesterday was the Ahly-Zamalek derby. Ahly fans are FIERCE. Zamalek fans are called "bawwabeen" or doormen, since, inexplicably, a lot of bawwabs are Zamalek fans (Can you tell I'm biased?). The two teams have a serious rivalry and police were gearing up for post-match violence. They banned lasers, lighters and flag posts, which meant that I was unable to take my cat's favourite laser pen and use its incredible range to distract the goalkeeper. Which of course, someone else was doing to the Zamalek goalie. We arrived at Cairo International stadium two hours early, and even then the amount of people was astounding. Shocking, if only because nothing happens on time in Egypt. Because we were a group of foreigners and girls, we cut through a giant pushing, shoving, and hissing line, went straight to the front, skipped all security checks, and were inside in a flash. Though I wouldn't have wanted to be crushed in line, it's kind of sad that we got preferential treatment while everyone else had to wait their turn. There were scores of riot police (sans shields) outside, and inside the stadium (avec shields), instead of facing the crowd, they were facing the players... watching the game. For security, kids dressed in kitschy sailor suits sat 20 meters apart on the track between the players and the seats, facing the supporters. Yet more riot police were stationed on the stairs in general seating, separating blocks of Ahly fans from each other, and a huge gap was left between Zamalek and Ahly fans. Obviously peace is the optimal state, but the academic researcher inside me was hoping to see some riot action later on. A couple of us had purchased some fine Ahly "Clup of the Centry" gear and almost everyone we passed commented on it with pride, yelling "Ahlawy!!!" at us and getting really excited that "people from abroad are Ahly fans!" As we walked to our seats, the call to prayer sounded out, and a smattering of men took to the corridors to pray. While we were ushered on by the police and overexcited fans, I was too timid to take the ultimate photograph - three men kneeling devoutly on an Ahly flag. Once inside, all I could see was a sea of screaming red; hand-held flags and flailing arms looking like the noodly appendages of epileptic millipedes, the chic-chic-chic of cellphone cameras capturing young men with their shirts off, little boys with Ahly headbands and red war painted faces dangling their feet next to overweight daddies in Man U, FCB and Ahly gear. The cheering had a distinctly Arab flavour, with balloon batons sounding out dabke rhythms. In between the instrumental versions of Toni Braxton love ballads, everyone chanted Ahly slogans, booed the Zamalek fans (Egypt has the greatest form of booing ever - "yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeee!!!!!") and sang for football nation.
The atmosphere was hyped and I couldn't help but get carried away with all the excitement, so much so that I might have accidentally smacked P in the face with a flag a few times mid-jump. Unfortunately the match was boring as all hell, with an incompetent referee who missed ALL the fouls, and there were only six (piteous) attempts on the goal. Here are some pictures of the action:
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