New Year in Sinai

A brand new year starts on a sunny day, at least in Dahab, Egypt, a desert cum beachfront town in the Sinai Peninsular facing the Aqaba Gulf, on a good day like this, one could see the coast of Saudi Arabia on the other bank.

Dahab has a strange-mixed feel – foreigners munch on falafel sandwhich by the roadside stall where locals come on horseback to buy breakfast; tourists in bikinis sun bathing on the rocky beach as camels and Egyptians in turban and long flowing robe saunter by; divers change into frogman suit right in front of grill fish stall; and on the new year’s eve, abundance of beer, hasish, marijuana, and western pop music feed the revelers at beach parties.

Last night, at the guesthouse where my sister and I stay, the owner and staff set up a small candle light party in the walled garden, with bonfire warding off the winter chill, and the stereo playing records from the 90s. A Polish who has resided in Egypt for 10 years fished out a bunch of marijuana plant from his bag and said joyfully: “This is our Christmas tree…but we have to watch out for the police.” Yet the local staff Jamil retorted immediately, “No police, we have no more police now (since the revolution).”

Well, before coming to Dahab, I have been wondering where have all the tourists gone? Now I know they have abandoned the politically volatile Egypt mainland and converged in Sinai’s beach resort towns like Dahab and Sharm El-Sheikh; but now I wonder where have all the policemen gone? This is not the first time locals telling me that police has no place in post-revolution Egypt.

In Cairo, during a Friday demonstration at the Tahrir Square, I had asked the locals, “Why are there no police to control or break the crowds?”, and the locals had jeered at the idea:”This is no place for the police, they dare not come near.” In the interior of Sinai Penisular, a bedoiun (native who roam the desert) told me the police used to harass them and ask for bribe in the form of money, food, and cigerrate, yet after the revolution, the police has melted away, “If they dare to harass us again, we (the people) will shoot them.” (In the desert areas, nearly all households have guns, not only for guarding themselves but also for celebrations, such as firing revelry shots at wedding)

Come to think of it, I have seen many military checkpoints in Sinai, but policemen? I don’t recall seeing them in the streets, and some of the police stations I passed by, the buildings usually look rundown and deserted. Though there’s no obvious police presence in the open, I do not sense a rise in street crimes, nor chaos in cities, towns or villages.

Anyway, Dahab seems like a planet away from Cairo, with no street protest, no one distributing political leaflets in the street, no agitated crowds in front of court houses…. no wonder tourists continue to flock here; but the Sinai Peninsular is not without its fair share of turbulent history. This desert and rocky frontier has been much fought over, it has holy places for major religions in the region, believers of various faiths have taken shelter or being prosecuted here, and in the last century, it was the battle ground between Isreal and the Arab allied forces, and it fell under Israeli rule for nearly a decade after the six-day war.

Since returning to the fold of Egypt, Sinai maintains strong military presence, but tourism development has changed its population make-up, economic, social, and cultural system to a large extent. In recent years, resentment from some Islamist groups against “moral decays” brought by tourism has resulted in several bomb attacks targeted at tourists.

Yet in 2011, when Egypt mainland sees sharp drop in tourist arrival, Sinai is like a beacon of light for those in the tourism industry, more and more Egyptians from the Nile region move over here for business. “I am from Luxor (once a tourist must-see destination, where the Valley of Kings located), after the revolution, I have to come here to make a living,” says Asraf, a souvenir vendor, adding 2011 is such a slow year, he can’t wait for it to end, and perhaps that’s also the reason why locals here celebrate even harder to welcome the new year, hopefully, a new beginning.