The Egyptian boot-blacks have a regular constitution and set of laws; not written out or printed, but not the less enforced.
1. The city of Cairo is divided into about a dozen boot-black districts.
2. The strongest boot-black in his district shall be the Sheik, or chief, until some stronger boy whips him; then the strongest boy takes his place.
3. Every boot-black must obey his Sheik.
4. Always stand by a boot-black, even if from another district.
5. Only Mohammedans are allowed the privilege of being boot-blacks. Any other sects taking up the trade must be put down.
I soon learned all these rules, and followed them closely. The Mohammedans, with the exception of the military men and those in the Viceroy's service, never have their boots blackened. A true Mohammedan looks on blackened boots as on something sacrilegious, so that we boot-blacks are regarded with scorn by our pious neighbors. The boot-black trade is in the European part of the city; that is where we mostly get our customers. We charge no regular price, but take just what we can get. Our worst customers are the military officers and policemen, for they often fail to pay us a single para; and if they are in a good humor, thereby refraining from giving us a kick, they will occasionally throw us the end of a cigar, and we are obliged to submit to this treatment with all humility. The European and American tourists are our genii, for they often give us a franc for polishing their boots. The Christians and Jews who reside in the city do not pay us well. Some of the richer ones give twenty paras (equal to two cents); while others, such as grocery men, pay us in an orange, or a few figs, or a handful of dates. Thus we barely make a living among a population of four hundred thousand inhabitants. Our voices are heard among the first sounds of the early morning, calling, "Boyâ! boyâ! boy-â-â-â!" (i. e., blacking). We frequent the streets where most customers are to be found, and often have a fight with some boot-black from another district who is trying to obtain the best custom.
Once in the year there is a gathering of the faithful followers of Mohammed for a pilgrimage to Mecca. The streets are filled with gay processions escorting the pious pilgrims. All the boot-blacks on that day unite in full force, every Sheik marching at the head of his company brandishing a stick; our boxes are slung across our shoulders to designate our trade; and we all heartily join in making as much noise as possible, shouting, "Boyâ! boyâ-â-â!" as we lead a camel richly harnessed through the streets of the city. There are hundreds of such other camels in this grand procession, led by various parties. Slowly we file through the streets, amid the hearty cheers of the citizens, and wend our way toward the desert, where we leave our camel to the charge of some faithful pilgrim, and return back again to our daily routine of boot-blacking.
I have been a successful boot-black for five years, and I am now the Sheik of my district, which position I gained by being the strongest and most able fighter, and best story-teller, consequently, as a badge of honor, I wear a small turban around my cap. The four boys who first patronized me are my best friends. After a hard day's work, we often resort to some quiet spot on a door-step, and, seating myself, my friends cluster round me for a thrilling tale from the Arabian Nights. Ali sits on my left, resting his weary arm on my knee, for he is the best boot-polisher in the city, and works very hard. Mustapha, on my right, has his only brother Hassan's head resting in his lap. Mahmud is the youngest, and is rather restless. He is fond of standing up, brushes in hand, and trying to see if he can not chance to spy some customer wanting his boots blackened, for he is ambitious to make as much money as possible, as he has an old grandmother, whom he loves dearly, to support.