Once you cross Quseir, heading south by the Red Sea coast, the above scene becomes familiar and repetitive: A sandy hill, with flags and hastily made markings. Those are Ababda cemeteries. No fancy cenotaphs, no built structures nor domes. Just a hole in the ground, with some basic marking on top.
The picture, below, was taken in Tondoba Bay.
On the road to Shalateen, I was stopped shortly before Baranis, at a military checkpoint. A young army soldier approached me quickly, made sure I and the rest of my friends in the car were Egyptians, then asked me for my driving license, writing down its details in a notebook.
Later, at the entrance of Shalateen, I was baffled by the sheer size of military presence. A large military camp decorates the entrance of Shalateen, together with Mubarak’s face on some statue. All street lamps have been painted with red, white and black, the three colors of the Egyptian flag.
I was stopped again at a military check point. A soldier approached our car. Once again, we were asked about our nationalities, my driving license was taken, its details written down in a notebook, then we were allowed entry.
I wonder what is it like for a member of the Ababda or the Basharis of Shalateen and Halayeb to be “part of this country,” when most of them do not have ID cards and cannot move via those checkpoints. They are effectively under siege, or, to be more accurate, under military occupation.
