Takataka Zinazorushwa Dirishani mwa Gari: Uvivu wa Sekunde Chache Unaoweza Kugharimu Maisha

The scene needs no long description because we see it every day: a car moving down the road, a window opening, a hand reaching out with a bag, a bottle or food scraps — and all of it dropping onto the asphalt as the car drives on as if nothing happened. To the owner of that hand, the street is one big rubbish bin, and street cleaners exist to pick up whatever he throws.

Let us say it plainly from the first line: the luxury of the car is no excuse. How many times have we seen the bag tossed from the tinted window of a car worth as much as an apartment? Refinement is not a brand or a model year; refinement is behaviour. Whoever throws his litter from his car window announces exactly who he is, whatever he happens to be driving.

The crime here is moral before it is legal. The street is common property — the walker's, the passenger's, the vendor's, the child's coming home from school. Whoever dumps his waste onto it is effectively telling all of them: my comfort matters more than all of you, and the cleanliness of my car's interior is worth dirtying your road. That is insult, provocation and harm — even if nothing else ever comes of the act.

But something far worse can come of it. Imagine a student on his way to school in the morning, walking along the edge of the road because the sidewalk is blocked, stepping on a piece of fruit peel or a wet bag thrown minutes earlier from a passing car. He slips, loses his balance, falls into the path of traffic. In a single second, the laziness of someone who could not tolerate a bag in his car until the next bin becomes a tragedy that devastates an entire family.

We do not need to wait for the tragedy to judge the act. Even at best — when no one slips and no one is hurt — throwing waste from a car remains unethical, uncivilised and provocative to everyone who sees it. The ugliness is in the act itself, not only in its consequences.

And one bag never stays alone. The first bag on the roadside is an open invitation to a second and a third, until the shoulder of the road becomes a small dump — bags blowing into drivers' windshields, blocking storm drains, settling at last in canals and waterways. A bad habit builds its own environment: a dirty place invites more dirt.

The law has a word here too, though we deliberately put it second. Dumping waste on the public road is an offence punishable under Egypt's public cleanliness Law 38 of 1967 and its amendments. The text has existed for decades; what is missing is firm enforcement that makes anyone reaching for the window handle think twice.

There is a ready-made excuse we hear often: "Then what are street cleaners for?" The answer is simple: the existence of someone who sweeps the street is not a licence to dirty it, just as the existence of doctors is not an invitation to hurt people. The street cleaner deserves to have his work respected, not pointlessly multiplied — his dignity preserved, not treated as a broom that walks behind our windows.

What do we ask of the citizen? Something almost laughably simple: a small bag inside the car, holding the rubbish until the next bin. That is all. And if you witness the act, say it politely but firmly, even with a look: this is wrong. The offender who knows people see and disapprove changes far faster than the one whose act passes without comment.

And what do we ask of the state? Enough bins, sensibly distributed along roads and squares; genuine enforcement of the fines already on the books, so the penalty reaches the car owner the way a speeding ticket does; and use of the existing traffic camera network to record this behaviour wherever possible. A law that is not enforced becomes a suggestion.

The road is a mirror of those who travel it. When the bag flies from the window, it is not only the bag that lands on the asphalt — something of the city's image, and its people's, falls with it. This is wrong, and we will keep saying so until the sight of a hand reaching out of a window with a bag becomes a scene from the past.