'So let's talk about bread," the local member of parliament, Gamal al-Ashri, tells a room packed with his constituents. It's late evening. Outside the shabby apartment block where the meeting takes place, a woman sifts through a vast pile of stinking rubbish at the side of a dusty, potholed road. She seizes something and stuffs it quickly into a plastic bag. Horse-drawn carts, battered old white Volkswagen minibuses and tiny black-painted three-wheelers (known as "tuk-tuks") compete with pedestrians in the honking mayhem that is an Egyptian street. We are in a poor neighbourhood of Giza – just a few miles from the pyramids, but not on any tourist itinerary.
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