PORT SAID: On the eve of the October War s 35th anniversary, traffic at this old colonial town s military museum was slow. One young couple posed cheerily in front of a gory depiction of the 1956 Suez Crisis. Outside, children scaled a vintage Israeli tank and asked a drowsy-looking guard to snap their photo.
At the mouth of the Suez Canal, the old frontier between Egypt and Israel, this port town suffered mightily through the wars of 1956, 67 and 73. Only a handful of its colonial-era French verandas are still intact.
But with each year, the residents who remember those conflicts are scarcer and scarcer. According to a census conducted in 2006, more than 70 percent of Egyptians are under 35 years old, meaning less than a third were alive during the October War, the conflict credited for refurbishing the pride of Egyptians after the calamitous defeats of 1967.
Yet while memories of war are fading, new frustrations are fresh here, especially among the many young.
Outside a small electronics shop near the canal, 20-year-old Ismail Omran lounged with two friends last Sunday, smoking cigarettes and tossing jokes at passersby.
The October War, also called the Yom Kippur War, is important to remember because it allowed Egypt to rid itself of occupying forces, Omran said.
Many Egyptians are still proud of the victory in 73, but apart from an abundance of war films on television, life on Oct. 6 is more or less the same, he said. The day isn t special, he said. Khallas, it s over. We weren t alive back then.
There are more pressing frustrations. The Suez Canal makes billions of pounds every year, Omran said. Where does it go? They steal it, he said. This country has been looted since the Pharaohs.
After college, both he and his friend Gamal Rasheed, 20, said they will do their military service. Then they hope to travel, they said.
There s no work here, Omran said. And even if you have a job, the salaries are so low you can t even afford cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes costs him LE 5, he said. If you buy one each day, that makes LE 150 per month, but monthly salaries for fresh grads rarely exceed LE 170, he said.
All the youth are struggling, he said. They can t even get married. Because of traditions, newlyweds are expected to buy a house and throw a large party, which can total to nearly LE 300,000, he said. Back at school, he and his girlfriend had to separate because he didn t have enough money to propose.
Down the road, a row of sun-darkened men squatted near blankets strewn with baubles, hawking them to tourists from the German Aida cruise ship docked nearby. Asked about the war, a few grew angry and refused to answer. No one will talk about that, one said. Don t write about it.
Others preferred to pass over the topic over quietly. I don t know anything about that subject, a carriage driver said. Asked his opinion, one police officer shrugged and said he was forbidden to speak about it.
Mohamed Mustafa Ahmed, a 67-year-old former teacher, is among the dwindling number who remembers the war personally. Born in Port Said, he spent the half-decade between 69 and 74 in a Delta town to avoid the frequent bombings.
The Israeli position was about 40 km from here, he said. All the people left for the Delta, Upper Egypt, Alexandria – other towns.
After the wars, the city he came back to was mostly shambles, he said, but it was home. Life here is better now, he said. New schools have opened and people sleep peacefully.
A few blocks away, Mahmoud Abdullah, 33, said the war had mostly passed from memory. All the new generations forget it, he said. They only know it on TV or from documentary films.
Born in Zagazig, a delta town where his parents waited out the bouts of shelling that ravaged many Canal-side settlements between 67 and 73, Abdullah returned to Port Said when he was young and now works as a marine contractor, mostly with Russian tourists.
Like Omran, he pointed to the canal as an icon of his irritation. The Suez brings in $16 million daily, he said. According to the state, Suez revenues hit a record $504 million in August, coming out to just under $16.26 million per day.
$16 million in one day, he said. But everybody here is without work, without education.
Though born after the October war, Abdullah’s friend Mohamed, a 29-year-old kiosk owner, said his cousin was killed by Israelis in that conflict.
He is angry with Israel, but also with the state, who allows Israel to buy Egyptian natural gas at a discounted price, he said. The war itself is not too important to people nowadays, he said.
People are angry with Israel, Abdullah said, but there is plenty more to channel his frustration. Trust me, he said. I want to live and work in Israel, because of the stability and the respectability, but it s dangerous for me – if I come back.
