Jad Farghali Abdujjawad works at the level crossing near Manfalut, 375 kilometers away from Cairo. He bears the consequences of the worn out railway system and inadequate security. He also has a second job that is as wretched as his position at the railroad, in order to support his family.

Jad Farghali Abdujjawad works at the level crossing near Manfalut, 375 kilometers away from Cairo. He bears the consequences of the worn out railway system and inadequate security. He also has a second job that is as wretched as his position at the railroad, in order to support his family.

Jad arrives at the crossing every morning at seven, and begins an exhausting 12-hour shift, which he says puts him under the constant pressure of losing his job or his life or getting him sent him to jail for the rest of his life.  The level crossing worker is the weakest link of the railway system and is the first to be blamed in train crashes. To what extent is he really responsible for such disasters?

Lifestyle

Thirty-six- year-old Farghali, who passed a literacy test then another test announced by the railroad authorities seven years ago, was not aware that his level crossing job would include all the dangers he encounters on a daily basis.

A married father of seven, Farghali lives on a farm in Fazzarah Village in Cusae City, 25 km from his workplace in Manfalut and, like Jad, he works a 12-hour shift then rests for 24 hours.

He starts work every morning at seven and wakes up at four every morning to pray to travel to Fazzarah where he takes a cab to Cusae and another one to the level crossing in Manfalut.  Farghali worries when returning home, he says,  because families sometimes exchange gun fire at night.

Farghali was appointed as a level crossing worker in 2006 and trained for 15 days at Hawatka level crossing by its workers. Then, he to worked for two years at Hawatka level crossing until 2008. He says it was a smooth experience since the level crossing was operated by a sweep, which is a system that ensures the inability of citizens to open it and thus the level crossing worker closes it with a peace mind.

Afterwards, he worked for two years in Manqabad Village with the same operating system, assisted by a nearby police patrol, a traffic officer and a regular guard, which forced people to respect traffic signals. Finally, he began working at Manfalout level crossing where all his daily problems began.

Enormous responsibility 

The level crossing at which Farghali works is the only route through the Ibrahimiya Canal to all highways and transportation lines in a city with a population of 350,000. Farghali begins by signing an attendance book, and operates the level crossing, which is controlled by four manual handles. Previously, the blockage worker used to inform him of an oncoming train over a worn out telephone, which was often out of order. However, after the development of the level crossing, he is now notified through an electronic light and bell.

When notified, Farghali pulls the four handles manually, assisted sometimes by a traffic officer available, as the light bell falls under the jurisdiction of the traffic authority. Approximately 60 trains pass during Farghali’s shift, which makes his job exhausting to run around pulling or loosening the handles to control traffic amidst people crossing while a train is passing.

A supervisor from the railway authority observes Farghali’s work daily. He makes sure that the worker attends his location and he too signs the attendance book. Farghali always files complaints demanding the assistance of a second worker, due to his inability to leave the level crossing for a bathroom or lunch break. He insists on this issue to preserve people’s lives since the only means of communication between him and the blockage worker is the light bell. Farghali wonders what would happen if he got hurt or an emergency occurred and the level crossing were not closed.

No sign of improvement

Farghali has grown tired of the frequent talk about improving level crossings and says it is mere words. “Even if they do, they only improve the buildings while we need solutions that guarantee our safety to go back unharmed to our families. We have mouths to feed,” he said.

Furthermore, he adds, if a disaster occurs, the only person to be blamed is the level crossing worker, even if he is one of the victims. He recalls the train accident in the nearby Mandara Village in Asyut, which took place last month and caused the death of more than 50 children, saying “I do not know what happened exactly but all I know is that the worker in charge has not seen his family since the accident because he is still under investigation.”

Farghali looked at two rooms that were electronically equipped three years ago but have yet to be operated. They are part of the improvement project, which has not been implemented except for renovating rooms and doubling the crossing lanes to become four instead of two; thus, increasing the possibilities of collisions without increasing the number of workers. “I operate two level crossings not just one,” he explained.

Despite Farghali’s low wage – no more than a thousand pounds a month (US$150) – which is not enough to cover his monthly dues, he does not ask for a raise. He demands real improvement on the level crossings by installing electronic sweeps instead of the manual handles. He also demands the increase of manpower to be two workers instead of one. Farghali strongly criticizes the proposed installation of sweeps on one direction without the other, saying, “This should not be done because no one complies with traffic rules. Vehicles and wagons always run in the opposite direction unpunished. That will cause greater disasters.”

Stressful conditions

Some of the hardships faced by Farghali on a daily basis include insecurity since the revolution and the increased number of tuk-tuks. People often assault him to force him to open the crossing, even when a train is coming. According to Farghali, those include tuk-tuk drivers who are often allegedly drug addicts who without driver’s licenses and carry knives. Two days ago, he says, a tuk-tuk driver broke and passed the chain and when Farghali rebuked him, he swore at him saying, “This country has no government.”

Farghali says people consider that the worker represents the government. A recent demonstration was staged against the unavailability of gas and some demonstrators tried to cut-off the railway. “I immediately informed the concerned authorities to prevent the disaster but surprisingly the demonstrators hit me with bricks and stones. When I hid inside the room, they broke the window.”

On another occasion, a speeding car rushed into the level crossing only a few seconds before a train was passing. They cursed Farghali and pointed a gun in his face, saying, “We have a gunshot injury. Open the chain or else we will shoot you.” Farghali refused to comply since the train was approaching, so they assaulted him and one of them opened the crossing, but the train passed before they could pass the chain. Such incidents, Farghali believes, are a result of insecurity and moral chaos the country is experiencing.

 “Life is all about misery”

Farghali goes back to his home in Fazzarah Village to work other jobs to provide for his nine-member family. He has two heads of cattle that provide milk and cheese to his family and he also sells some to buy smaller heads to raise them. In addition, he rents farming land to cultivate with his children. “Life is all about misery,” he says.