Funeral for a Pope.

Cairo, Egypt

The Pope of the Coptic Church died the same day I arrived in Cairo. Pope Shenouda III, or “Baba Shenouda” as the locals called him, seems to have been a very respected man. 

“I love him, even though I am a Muslim” said the lady at the front counter of my hotel. She also asked me if I cried. I din't cry, I did get lost on the way home though.

I must have missed the funeral proper. By the time I’d made my way to St. Mark’s Cathedral in Cairo’s Abbasiya district, the coffin had already left. There were still hundreds of mourners, and heaps of security.

On the way to the Church I passed helmeted riot police, soldiers and an APC.

The APC was a slightly worrying sign. I remember seeing one just like it on the news months ago; charging at Coptic protesters.

The mood was calm. I didn’t see any scuffles or problems of any kind. The riot police looked pretty bored for the most part. There were kids selling posters with the Pope's face on it. 

A local dude approached me with a stack of pamphlets and asked me if I’d accepted Jesus into my heart. I told him I had. He was wrapped to hear it.

“Very good, God bless you” he said, stuffing a pamphlet into my hands. It was written in Arabic. Great, I thought, I don’t have to read it.

When I made it into the church, there were people clambering at the alter. They were lining up to wipe tissues and flowers on the chair where Baba Shenouda’s body had been on display. They would then kiss the tissues and hold them to their face.

Outside the church a young dude told me that some believe that these tissues might grant miracles or heal the sick.  

I should have grabbed one. You never know. 

Army dudes.

Two nuns leave the church. 

Police officers. 

The riot squad.

Copts on the top of the gate leading into the Cathedral.

The loss was too much for this woman.

The faithfull scramble to touch the chair.

The main gate was locked on my way out. People were still squeezing in to pay their respects.