So...at the advice of a pet store owner in Zamalek, I decided to go over to the Ministry of Agriculture today to get an official export health certificate for my cat, Sami. Turns out maybe you don't have to go back to the vet five days before you travel after all.
Before I begin this story, let me give you some advice: if you don't want to create havoc in the ministry office, just ignore the fact that they will give you incorrect receipts for the money you will pay. Apparently even asking about this is deeply insulting. Which leads me to my Cairo behaviour theorem of the day: the more people yell and complain about how honest they are being, the more likely it is that they are cheating you.
Anyway, the place you have to go is located on Nadi al-Sid Street in Dokki. If you're coming from the 6th October bridge, turn onto Nadi al-Sid, go down about two blocks, and you will see a kind of Belle-Epoque colonial building on your left. That's not it. Where you want to go is that Stalin-esk structure across from it on the right. It kind of like looks two giant housing project buildings. OK, go on through the last gate. If you are foreign-looking, they'll know why you've come--you are not the first foreigner looking to ''export'' an Egyptian dog or cat.
The division is called the General Services Veterinary Section, what you want is a health certificate (shehada al-sehi). It's on the second floor. A nice beefy guy in a suit or a skinny guy in government issue polyester casuals (I stole that description from a friend) will escort you past the crumbling Mubarak statue in the lobby (the paint has come off half the face) and into the kind of elevator where you are like, wait...I'm not going in there. Does it work? And then you go in because everyone else is doing it. On the second floor, make a right, people will help you find the right place.
You will enter a standard Egyptian public office: five people, only one of whom is doing anything that looks work-related. Then there's the woman with the flowing hijab/abaya and gloves on reading the Quran; the less covered-up middle-aged woman next to her just staring off into space; the director of the office, a balding man in his 50s, whose job it is to collect money and sign things. Explain what you want: they will ask for some amount of money: in my case, 50 pounds. Pay. Then go over to the ''vet'' in attendance with your cat's vaccination record, and she will sign a document certifying your animal is healthy. Don't bother to bring the actual animal. Its not necessary.
Everything was going smoothly, and normally I wouldn't have rocked the boat, but...because I was going to write about this, I decided to actually ask: why, if the certificate says I paid 22.75 LE, and then another illegible scribble on another piece of paper looks like it says I paid 20 LE, was I charged 50 LE?? Just wondering, I said. At that point, everyone shook the sleepers out of their eyes and looked over at me, as if not sure I had just said what I had just said. The boss, who was by then playing solitaire on the only computer in the office (hey--at least they had a computer!) looked up too. He had taken the actual cash earlier, and made change from the money in his pocket. And then it got crazy.
I don't know; said the veterinarian, looking innocent and wide-eyed, turning to another woman. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??? screeched the other woman, a big lady in a black headscarf who had recently arrived. Then they began to throw a bunch of numbers at me: 100 for this stamp, 200 for this other stamp...voices rising. A young woman who had been doing some accounting was staring at the scene with a bemused smile on her face, like, ummm...this is interesting, i wonder how they will deal with this? No one offered to give me another receipt. But I didn't expect that anyway. I just kind of wanted to see what would happen if I asked.
"Sorry!" I said. "I'm just asking a simple question. My friends' are going to come and I wanted to know all the information."
''Next time you need something done, go to the office at the airport!!" yelled the big lady. "Tell your friends to go to the airport too!!"
"Don't worry about it," whispered the vet as I was gathering my things to go, surprised at how easy it had been to create chaos in the office. "You can come back here next time."
Listen: I know they don't pay them a lot at the ministry. I know everyone is just supposed to ''go with the flow'' and pay all the hidden baksheesh as required. But pretending that you are in the right by freaking out and coming up with a million and one reasons why there is nothing wrong just makes things worse. If people pretend not to see all the graft that is built into the system, or get extremely defensive when it is pointed out, how are things ever going to change? No one individual is to blame. But the sad fact is that lying every day to make a few dollars for your family ultimately has a corrosive impact on both the people who lie and their society.
