Crossroad Puzzles

“It’s easy!” he announced confidently as he skipped off the curb. I watched him saunter across the frenzied motorway in downtown Cairo, which sees thousands of cars filter through its eight-lane racetrack every hour. He wore dark diamond-encrusted sunglasses, an Armani-branded shirt and didn’t flinch as the cars hurtled past, their wheels a few inches short of his bare feet. He stood unfazed on the burning tarmac, puffing on his cigarette, waiting casually for gaps in the traffic. “Do they ever slow down?” I shouted anxiously but the constant beeping of restless horns drowned out his answer.
Visitors to Cairo are bound to feel intimidated by the crowded roads of this sprawling city, which boasts one of the highest traffic accidents rates in the world. There are no crossroads, no traffic wardens. But somehow, Cairenes make it look easy. Stepping out onto a busy street, all bets are off: this is no game of luck. And what we, as tourists, tend to forget is that crossing such treacherous roads is a trivial aspect of everyday life. It is, in fact, just a game.
Feeling slightly defeated and unsettled, I set off to explore the city with Salim. “Nobody wants an accident,” he mused as we lounged in a roadside cafe. The heat was palpable even after the relentless sun had set: an insufferably hot summers evening. Sweat tickled as it dripped down the length of my back and limbs. “They are just playing,” he continued as he puffed on his pipe, wiping his brow. “They know you are afraid,” he teased. I took a puff of the cherry sheesha, the smoke lingering on my damp skin. Cherry-flavoured sweat. “It’s like that video game, yes?” he smiled. “Frogger, you know it?” I sat back, exhaled, and took in his advice.
Salim was right. Much like Frogger, there were no tricks or cheat codes in Cairo. The rules were simple: in order to win, you were to weave your way through the incoming traffic by tactfully taking steps forward, left, right, and very often backwards. But you only ever got a limited amount of time. And by standing in one place for too long, you would lose the power; you would lose the game.
Suddenly, the streets of Cairo became my playground. I skipped, twirled, bounded across the busiest roads in town without even flinching. After a smooth crossing, I couldn’t help but be smug. I turned around and watched a group of tourists one day from the island in the middle of motorway. They’ll never get across, I thought. I continued on, adopting Salim’s effortless swagger. I felt the part – practically a local.
Out of nowhere, an impatient driver accelerated toward me. I panicked and bolted to safety, trying my utmost to conceal the fear written across my face. I stood there, confused: I thought I was following the rules...
So much for blending in. Perhaps I had yet to understand the game.