My Cairo experience at the 61st training for African journalists

In North Africa, Egypt is one of the world’s oldest nations, a land where history and modernity collide. From the pyramids of Giza to the Egyptian Museum of Civilisation, from the Citadel of Qaitbay to the futuristic New Administrative Capital, Egypt stands as both a guardian of the past and a messenger of the future. Officially known as the Arab Republic of Egypt, it links North Africa with the Middle East, and for three weeks, it became a classroom for me.

I left Nigeria on August 15, 2025, boarding a 3:30pm flight out of Abuja. By 10pm, I touched down in Cairo, where Mr Abdulrahman, a member of the training team, welcomed me and took my Ghanaian colleague and I to the Infantry House Hotel in Nasr City, my home for the next three weeks. The 61st training for African journalists, organised by the Union of African Journalists (UAJ), in collaboration with Egypt’s Supreme Council for Media Regulation, began the next morning, August 16 and ended on September 5 when we were handed our certificates.

On August 16, the first day of training, all 22 participants were taken to the immigration office for passport stamps, and it was done in about 46 minutes. The process was fast because the Egyptian immigration officers treat their citizens courteously and with promptness.

As Nigeria’s only representative to the training, I went to Egypt with no knowledge about the country, but interestingly returned sufficiently packed with knowledge about Egypt and Africa itself.

Lessons in the classroom

The sessions were intense and unfiltered. Ambassador Ahmed Haggag opened our eyes to Africa’s free trade area and the battles ahead. Dr Hanan El-Gendy walked us through the dangers journalists face, not only in war but even in “peaceful” times. Dr Bara’ Jassem unpacked cultural soft power, while Dr Maysa Sharif connected the media to human rights with razor-sharp clarity.

We debated America’s influence on Africa with Dr Ezzat Ibrahim. With Dr Ayman Ali, the conversation turned raw on ethics and professional standards. Dr Osama El-Deeb’s lecture on editing and artificial intelligence left me wondering if journalism’s future would belong more to machines than to us, humans.

Another voice that inspired me was that of Dr Samia Abbas. She is an old woman who is very dedicated to her work, and she is very good at it. I told her one day that she inspires me to carry on with my profession as a journalist because of her dedication to it at her age. She said to me that she was glad she had inspired me, just like my mom back home in Nigeria.

One voice, however, stayed with me above others. It’s the voice of Ambassador Ahmed Haggag, the secretary-general of the Africa Society, chairman of the Egyptian African Association and an adviser to the Union of African Journalists (UAJ). He is also a former assistant secretary-general of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU).

I had an interview session with him and he pulled no punches. He said the African Court on Human Rights had failed its mission, blaming both African governments and world powers for the failure. He warned that human rights were declining across the globe and pointed to Sudan, where armed groups thrive on the support of neighbouring countries.

Amb Haggag also lamented how Africa Day, May 25, is slowly being forgotten, even by African ambassadors. For him, this neglect weakens unity, the same unity that toppled colonial regimes and apartheid. He asked: “If we do not value our unity, how will others value us?”

I spoke during a class session, where I argued that African countries must open their borders to one another. Open borders and free movement, I pointed out, would strengthen our shared destiny more than walls ever will.

Egypt’s bold gamble

If Cairo tells Egypt’s story of the past, the New Administrative Capital is Egypt’s leap into the future. Rising from the desert like a planned miracle, it is more than an administrative hub; it is a statement of ambition, driven by the need to relieve Cairo’s population density and build a smart, sustainable city that Egyptians deserve.

I was told the city was built without direct state funding. Instead, the Administrative Capital for Urban Development (ACUD) drove the project, combining land from the Ministry of Defense with expertise from the Ministry of Housing. We were told by an official that the company was responsible for all the project’s financing, with no funding role for the government. From sand to skyline, the transformation is staggering, with the first phase of 40,000 feddans already 75 per cent complete.

Transport is futuristic: the Light Rail Transit (LRT) is already in operation; the monorail will soon follow; and a high-speed train will connect 14 governorates, from Ain Sokhna to Alamein. A central station links it all with 700 buses, hotels, mosques and service hubs.

Security is digital and constant, with a command and control centre watching through 6,000 cameras, supported by a Tier III City Cloud Data Centre. Sustainability runs deep, waste handled by UAE’s Bee’ah, water by Metito, IT services by Atos. The target is 100 per cent recycling, minimal water loss and full smart-city integration.

But the city is not just steel and wires, it is also a culture. The City of Arts and Culture, home to the biggest Opera House in the world, positions Egypt as a cultural giant. I was told that universities from Germany, Canada and the UK serve thousands daily, while the new capital has already attracted 30,000 residents and 50,000 daily employees. The official also noted that a fully integrated Diplomatic District had been established, and he added that several African countries had already signed contracts and received land there. Sporting activities have a place too as the 94,000-seat New Capital Stadium is among the largest in Africa.

Faith is etched in stone. The Cathedral of the Nativity of Christ, the biggest in the Middle East, stands beside Al-Fattah Al-Alim Mosque. Both were inaugurated together by President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi, a deliberate statement of coexistence.

This is not just a new city, it is Egypt’s bold gamble to craft a future it wants the world to notice.

Cairo’s streets and bazaars

My opinion of the Egyptians started right from the airport. I had just arrived and asked a man to connect me to his phone’s WiFi as my Nigerian SIM didn’t work. He attended to me respectfully and tried to connect me, even attempting to connect me with the airport WiFi, though it didn’t work in the end. He tried his best and even took a very good picture of me at the airport.

Beyond the conference halls, Cairo’s streets became my real textbook. I walked Abbas Al-Akkad Street, Muhammad Ali Street, Al-Bayt Road, Talaat Harb Street and Qasr Al-Aini Street. The stores on Abbas Al-Akkad were famous, but I preferred Talaat Harb, maybe because I had initially visited there and it was easier to navigate.

One day, after changing my US dollars, together with my Tunisian colleague, Sami, we went shopping in Talaat Harb and noticed a man following us. Sami whispered it first. We stopped, turned and confronted him. Shocked, he asked if we were looking for something. We said no. He pressed again. We repeated no. Only then did he turn and walk away. Cairo had shown me its warmth, but it also displayed its shadows.

At the local market of El Ettaba, everyone who asked me where I came from was so pleased to meet me as a Nigerian. This happened even in the streets. So, I had to ask some of them what it was exactly with their love for Nigerians. I remember vividly that one man told me that “we have a lot of love for Nigerians, they are always welcome in Egypt. And vice versa, Nigerians love Egyptians a lot, so it is a mutual feeling.”

Interestingly, I discovered that unlike what the situation is in Nigeria, in Cairo, many of the private cars, especially taxis plying the roads, are old. Interestingly, too, the houses are mostly unpainted. But in New Cairo, where the American University is located, I saw painted houses, beautiful duplexes and mansions. I was surprised as I had never seen anything like that in Cairo before. I even saw a 2020 BMW X6 in that area. It is a big and very rich area.

I also discovered that when you use a SIM card from Orange, Vodafone or Etisalat, and you recharge 100 Egyptian pounds, you only get 70 credits on your phone. When I asked why, I was told that it is due to taxes.

I also learned quickly about the Egyptian pound. During my stay, one US dollar exchanged at 48.28pounds, almost 50pounds. That made the math easy, but it also showed how inflation was biting hard in the country. With just a few pounds, you could grab bread or pay for a short taxi ride, but once it came to bigger things, the cost climbed sharply. It reminded me of home in Nigeria, where the naira’s freefall has also forced people to adjust their daily lives.

At fuel stations, a litre of petrol at Cooperation Petroleum Company (CPC), which is one of Egypt’s biggest oil companies, went for 19pounds, about N630. Some stations sold at 25pounds, which is roughly N829, but even at that, it still felt cheaper than what we pay back home. What struck me most was that while it was almost impossible to change Egyptian pounds back into dollars, turning dollars into pounds was seamless. I used an ATM at the National Bank of Egypt to change my first $70 and got 3,370pounds at the rate of 48.28pounds.

On Al-Muizz Street, I walked a stretch of medieval Cairo, from Bab al-Futuh to Bab Zuweila, past mosques, caravanserais and narrow souqs that looked frozen in time. At that moment, I wasn’t just reporting Egypt. I was inside its living, breathing history.

Navigating Cairo: A reporter’s guide

For my own travels around Cairo, I mostly relied on taxis, but the city has a large network of public transport. I was told that the Cairo Metro is the most efficient way to avoid the city’s infamous traffic; it is also very affordable. Though not as widely used, the public bus system is extensive and cheap. I learnt that ride-sharing apps like Uber are also popular among locals and visitors alike.

My stay was at the Infantry House Hotel, but for those who wanted a different experience, there were a wide range of options. I was told about luxury hotels like the Marriott Mena House, right next to the pyramids, or the Four Seasons Hotel along the Nile. For more budget-conscious travellers, hostels like the Dahab Hostel and other smaller guesthouses offer affordable stays in the city center.

Culture, hospitality, life in the city

Culturally, I found that the Egyptians are renowned for their hospitality, much like Nigerians. They are generous with their greetings, and a simple handshake often comes with a warm welcome and questions about your wellbeing. But I was advised of a few key customs: When visiting mosques, it is customary to remove your shoes and dress modestly, with women covering their hair. As a gesture of politeness, tipping is expected for almost every service.

Beyond their famed hospitality, I observed that, like Nigeria, Egypt faces its own socioeconomic challenges. I learned that while poverty rates have decreased slightly in recent years in Egypt, it remains an issue, particularly in rural areas. However, I noticed that the government is actively investing in new, large-scale projects like the New Administrative Capital to attract investment and create jobs. This development, I was told, is aimed at improving the overall economic situation of the country. But from what I saw, the economic situation in Egypt is clearly reflected in the rising cost of basic goods.

I noticed that for poor families, their diet consists largely of staples like aish baladi (a type of flatbread), legumes and vegetables. Protein sources like meat and fish are luxury items for many. This experience made me think about the situation back home in Nigeria, where food prices have also soared in recent years, making staples like rice and garri to become unaffordable for the average family. I realised that for many in Egypt, feeding their families remains a daily battle, a reality that cuts across both the nations of Egypt and Nigeria, despite their different cultures.

Alexandria: Where sea meets history

In Alexandria, the Mediterranean wind carried stories of the empire. The Bibliotheca Alexandrina stood majestic, a bridge between antiquity and the digital age. I learnt that the new library was built on the exact site of its ancient predecessor, a legendary centre of learning founded by King Ptolemy I. A massive collaboration between UNESCO and Egypt, the modern library officially opened in 2002.

I was particularly struck by the library’s design. I saw its massive, granite walls inscribed with letters from 120 different languages, a powerful symbol of its mission to welcome the world. Inside, I found its vast open reading area to be truly remarkable, capable of holding thousands of readers at once. Wandering through its quiet spaces, I was able to see historic copies of the Gutenberg Bible and ancient Qur’an manuscripts with verses written in gold.

The Qaitbay Citadel, built on the ruins of the Lighthouse of Alexandria, stared down the sea with timeless defiance. Along the Corniche, the sea and city embraced in restless dialogue.

Face to face with the Pharaohs

At the Egyptian Museum, I stood before the real bodies of Egypt’s pharaohs. Time collapsed as I stared at Ramses II, Seti I, Thutmose III and Queen Hatshepsut, among others. They were no longer just names in a history book but preserved rulers staring back through glass coffins, reminding us that power fades, but legacy lingers.

Friendships and human connections

But what would Egypt have been without the people I shared it with? For the training, journalists came from South Africa, Tunisia, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Uganda, Ghana, Algeria, Djibouti, Mauritania, Cote d’Ivoire, Congo, Mali, Chad, Kenya, Tanzania, Morocco. And among us were five Egyptians.

I made friends I will never forget. Sami Nouisser, from Tunisia was more than a colleague; he was my compass. Fluent in French, English and Arabic, he became our bridge in Cairo’s streets, my shield in Talaat Harb market, and a brother in every sense.

Asma Ahmed Mohamed from Djibouti became my anchor. She reminded me of my Nigerian aunt with her modest dress, and she often stepped in to translate Arabic for me. She spoke both Arabic and English, and in moments when I was lost in conversation, she became my voice.

Others also left their mark. Queenin Masuabi from South Africa shared medicine when I fell sick. Azebire Nicholas from Ghana kept my phone alive with his extension wire and adapter. Johnsias Mutonhori from Zimbabwe and Sami dragged me through the chaos of El Ettaba market. My neighbour, Achour Djeghbala from Algeria, spoke only Arabic, but with Google Translate, we shared jokes like old friends. Hinda Tobbal, also Algerian, added her warmth. Youssef El Khaider from Morocco was another brother across borders. Together, they turned Cairo from a training ground into a family ground.

And then there was Mr Abdelaziz Mohamed who wasn’t a participant but became the soul of our movement in Egypt. Every morning by 8:30am, he was at the hotel to pick us up with a bus and a driver. He took us to classes and returned us by 3pm. He took us to the immigration office, drove us around Cairo’s landmarks and made sure we experienced the city beyond lecture halls. Without him, much of our Cairo journey would have remained unseen.

Africa’s struggles through Cairo’s Lens

Cairo was more than pyramids and bazaars. It was also a mirror to Africa. Amb Haggag’s warnings about weak human rights institutions and forgotten unity struck me deeply. He was right – Africa cannot rise if its people remain divided, if its journalists remain silent, or if its leaders remain shortsighted.

My takeaway

The course was intense, the hospitality professional and the memories unforgettable. But the biggest lesson I carried home is that Africa’s media future and Africa’s future itself will not be built in isolation. We need to share, collaborate and defend one another.

As my plane touched down back in Nigeria, I carried more than Egyptian souvenirs. I carried the Nile’s whispers, the pyramids’ shadows, friendships that crossed language and borders and a renewed conviction that the African journalist must not only tell stories but also help shape the destiny of a continent in need of direction.

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