First, I have to apologize to the friends and family for neglecting my blogging responsibilities :) I've no real excuses, except perhaps that I've been working... on websites, as a substitute teacher, as a volunteer teacher, and on fellowship proposals for next year. So, without further ado...

There is a KFC around the corner from our flat where I sneak off for chicken sometimes (usually nights when Cara is studying late at the university). Though I try to avoid the likes of KFC, Pizza Hut, and McDonald's in favor of fuul, tamiya, and koshari, this KFC is different. I knew what to expect when I first went looking for it over a month ago because my mom tipped me off to it. She had heard about it from a co-worker in Budapest! What would make such a lowly KFC so popular?

It is entirely staffed by hearing impaired persons.

Known lovingly as "The Deaf KFC," there is an entire system in place. In addition to the overhead menu, there is one in front of the cashier so that you can point to your order. There is even KFC-specific sign... The sign for "spicy" is an open mouth while waving your hand in front of it. "To-go" is two walking fingers (like the old yellow pages symbol). There is no equivalent to ASL in Egypt, though I did hear about a friend-of-a-friend here who was working with the deaf community in developing one.

To the unsuspecting tourist who happens to wander in, there is nothing to indicate anything different about the place except some wallpaper with the ASL alphabet, which they probably won't notice. The poor foreigner in front of me the other day was trying to speak slowly and clearly, assuming that the Egyptian behind the counter simply couldn't understand his English.

But I've gone a couple of times now and have also noticed the relative quite in the place, as no one is yelling to each other behind the counter (at least, not vocally). A beeping alarm is accompanied by a brightly flashing light. The manager is hearing (as well as the delivery guys on their scooters), but other than that, everyine working there is hearing impaired.

In all, its a pretty remarkable sight in Egypt, which is somewhat notorious for having limited services for people with disabilities. The uneven sidewalks are usually unwalkable because of variable curbs, forcing pedestrians into the street. I've only seen one person in a powered wheelchair and she had to be lifted out of the cafe by a waiter and her friend. In fact, Wikipedia lists "Paying a special care for the handicapped" one of the four platform points of one of the major political parties.

Back in June, though, Egypt won a gold medal at the Paralympic Games. There is a great article in the New York Times about Heba Said Ahmed, Egypt's gold medalist, and the struggles she faces having returned to Egypt. But her success is not just a result of her ambitions, physical strength, and strength of will. Sadly, such success needs money, too... for the special car and for physical therapists, etc. Few Egyptians can afford such things and there is no one else to pay for them. This is not unique to Egypt by any means. There is a humbling photo on "The Big Picture," which highlights highlights a paralympic racer who was disqualified for attempting to race in a "non-racing" wheelchair. No doubt he is a stellar athelete and perhaps, if he had a schmancy wheelchair like those of his competitors seen behind him, he could have won gold. But someone has to pay for such things. My friend Connor posted on how economic disparities between countries make for an unlevel playing field for athletes a while back and put together a great interactive graph showing how olympic medals are concentrated in the richest countries. One of these days, I want to put something similar together with Paralympic data, because I expect the trends to be even more profound.

Last time I went to the "Deaf KFC," there was an entire family trying to decide on their meals, discussing in sign. Though they were not properly in line, but they made their decision just as I got to the cashier and he motioned them in front of me. (As a foreigner, I've been on both sides of such exchanges, whether it is the guy at the shawarema stand taking other people's orders first or a taxi driver skipping over dozens of Egyptians waiting for a cab during rush hour and heading straight for me.) This time, though, I wasn't annoyed, as it seemed pretty obvious that this was a special dinner for them.

And the cashier seemed equally appreciative of their presence.