Still dreaming of a better future : a Cairo street girl recounts her traumatic experiences
By Lucy Ashton A month ago Nevine (not her real name) found a new place to sleep, a little public park off Qasr Al Aini street – a major thoroughfare in downtown Cairo. At night Nevine says the road is quiet, and in the park she can sleep alone - no one bothers her there. If she can find a scrap of cardboard to lie on, her night is more comfortable. Nevine is 18, and she has lived on Cairo’s streets for 4 years. “Street children can do anything in the world. They are prey to anything and they know things children should not,” she says in a dry voice by way of introduction. “I grew up in Aswan. My father fell in love with a drugs dealer, left my mother and went to Ismailia,” – a small town on the Suez Canal and several days travel from Aswan. “I needed him and went there alone to find him.” “My mother died and my father sent me back to Aswan to my uncles. They were very angry because I had travelled lone. They shaved off all my hair, beat me and burnt me as punishment.” Nevine’s eyes watch me frankly.
“But I was never taken to the police station. The first time I went there was when my daughter died.” She rubs her forehead and her eyes, look at the ceiling and the floor, avoiding my gaze which up to now she has sought. “There were some boys in a car, they held a knife to my neck, dragged me in and made me swallow pills. I fell asleep and when I woke I found myself in some wasteland. I don’t remember what happened but a few weeks later my stomach hurt and a doctor told me I was pregnant.” About the same time her baby was born, Nevine started to visit the One night a gang found them, and beat Nevine savagely. She runs a forefinger down another thick white scar on her left temple. Then they took her baby and suffocated it on the ground beside her. “I still don't understand why would they do that,” she says recalling the horrific incident. Nevine would like to return home to “But I am made to feel I am different in every way. The way people look at me makes me feel I am not human. That I am torn and they are neat.”
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