Invincible Cairo

Invincible Cairo
Six of the capital citys most renowned artists and writers reflect on what Cairo means to us all.
By Manal el-Jesri



A JUNIOR GERMAN diplomat was reported to have committed suicide last month, jumping from his balcony after leaving a simple note bequeathing all of his belongings to his parents. The statement released by the German embassy shed little light on the sad event, yet for some reason the Egyptian press started circulating the rumor that the German diplomat had just received news he was to be posted to another city. According to a number of reports, the man could not bear the idea of being plucked out of Cairo and so decided to end his life.




There is little proof that this is indeed why the man committed suicide. What is true is that Cairo occupies a special place in many peoples hearts, be they natives or expatriates. Its name, Al-Qahira, means The Victorious or The Vanquisher. When the Fatimid Caliph Al-Muizz li-Din Allah ordered his commander Jawhar Al-Siqqilli (the Sicilian) to build it more than 1,000 years ago, little did he know that it would live on after so many cities died and were forgotten. Home to Al-Azhar, Cairo used to be the Mecca for religious scholars from all over the world. Later, it became the Mecca of Arab artists and intellectuals.


In the past 50 years, Cairo has suffered a lot. Economic strains and political upheavals have often affected the flow of intellectuals to the bustling city, while the influx of workers from rural areas increased steadily over the years.

Still, it continues to be the invincible city the Sicilian intended. The question is: For how long?


Dr. Salah Enani

Painter, professor of art

Nasr City, Heliopolis even Zamalek are not really parts of Cairo. One of the characteristics of the real Cairo is the ability to fuse all the different historical eras. Walk in a street like Al-Muizz li-Din Allah or in some parts of Abassiya: Youll find that styles and histories are juxtaposed. You find a house from one era built on the remains of houses from other eras. Cairo may be one of the few cities in the world that can boast so much history, yet there are attempts to destroy it through faulty restoration.

You see, there are two kinds of Orientalists. There are Western Orientalists and Arab ones. Arab Orientalists want Old Cairo to resemble a film production set, which is why they are restoring it to look like one. It is as if reality is inaccurate. There is a flaw in understanding, a flaw in appreciation; these people cannot judge correctly, which is a natural by-product of their flawed knowledge of Cairo.

When you mention Fatimid Cairo, some people want to see a mashrabia, an incense burner and a fuul cart. If you took them into the real alleyways that produced writers, revolutionaries and real citizens, they would cringe in disgust at the poverty and the dirt roads. Little do they know that this is the real Cairo, the one that has influenced newcomers throughout history.

My Cairo is the Cairo I conceive of when understanding what it was and what it has become. When I pass under Bab Zuweila, I imagine the hanging of Tuman Bey. When I walk through Abul Souod, I see the center of all military skirmishes, and the same for Abassiya. Old Cairo used to be the center of the government at one point, as important as Abdin Palace became later on.

If I were comparing it to, say, a country like Germany, I would find it extremely unruly and chaotic. Some of the intellectuals here would rather be German. But unlike Germans, we are not a systematic people. We dislike repetition. The East is an entertaining, absorbing place, whereas the West is not, which is why Westerners are depressed. They yearn for truth and proof; we are spiritual.

Cairo is like a narcotic. When I go to Old Cairo, I come out feeling cleansed and astonished every time. I had been abroad for a while and had just come back. The first thing I did on my way from the airport was stop at Al-Hussein [area housing Khan El-Khalili in Old Cairo]. I felt like I hadnt had salt or sugar for ages. I walked around, got re-acquainted with the smells, and I felt ecstatic and satisfied. It feels like meeting a lover, every time.

Some foreigners experience similar feelings. You see them walking around, dazed and surprised.

There are attempts to rob Cairo of her character. But she will remain like she has for thousands of years. What we need to do is resist these attempts on her uniqueness.

You see, Cairo is the center of the universe. All of human history took place here. Although what we now call Cairo is 1,000 years old, the city has existed under other names since before the Stone Age, and before the Nile even existed. Helwan and Maadi witnessed the invention of agriculture. Fustat and the Fort of Babylon are still there, and if you add Menf in Giza you have 7,000 years of uninterrupted history. And all the Islamic eras are there, too; not one has been lost. You can see the Fatimid next to the Ayyubid next to the Mameluke and the Ottoman. Districts that used to belong to these eras are still saturated with the fragrance of those times.

What amazes me is that many of the crafts and trades of the past still exist in Cairo, making it truly unique. The rope makers, the leather makers, et cetera. And each craft or trade is surrounded by the smaller trades that feed it. This has developed over the years, with similar, more modern markets springing up close by. Take Darb El-Barabra, El-Manasra and Darb Saada, for example. It is all one big factory for things and for people; it is a factory for life.

Walk towards Downtown and you find that despite the European influences, the Islamic style has affected the buildings, with arches and soft curves replacing the rigid European lines in many cases. It is a big amalgam of styles, and transcending it all is the spirit of Cairo, which is stronger than all the incongruity you see.

And they say they want to restore it. But they have to get to know it first, which they dont. They are completely ignorant of its history. It has a secret code they cannot break. Cairo is too complex for the attempts to add on to it. The city is smarter than the inhabitants, despite a cruelty toward it that borders on a conspiracy to obliterate it.

Cairo is a living being. It has a brain, a stomach, lungs, and even colored nails. This is the key to understanding its spirit. It is like an embryo that developed in a certain order. Its history is the cells that united to give it life. Taking away some parts of it is like murder. Some restorers are ripping out old mashrabias and replacing them with new ones. I wonder where the old ones, the monuments, are ending up.

Call it an artists craziness, but I think the attempt to ruin Old Cairo is an attempt to ruin Islamic civilization. But no one is smart enough to achieve that.


Atiyat El-Abnoudi

Documentary filmmaker

Misr Omm El-Donia [Egypt is the mother of the world]. Its an old Pharaonic saying, and people have summarized Egypt as Cairo. People from rural areas do not say Were going to Cairo, they say, Were going to Misr. This is because it has everything: Egypts first university, theaters, cinemas and ministries. When people yearn for a better life, they think they should move to Cairo. To this day, a writer is not recognized unless he or she publishes a work or two in the nations capital.

But for some reason I have never belonged to Cairo. I live in Cairo, yet I think of it as the place where I work. I am 60 years old and have been here for more than 40 years, but I belong to my apartment and go out only to attend a conference or go to work. I do not have a butcher and a grocer. I shop in the villages. And I still wear peasant galabeyyas. I feel more comfortable this way. I constantly feel I will be taken advantage of by the shopkeepers of the city. I think rural people find it difficult to fully experience the city. I still give Cairo more than I take.

My career as a filmmaker has given me the privilege of getting out of Cairo, and of my 30 films, I made only two about Cairo. One of them was my very first film, The Sad Song of Touha, which is actually not about Cairo, but takes place in it.

In 2000, I did my other film in Cairo: Cairo 1000, Cairo 2000. In this film I discovered that to me, Cairo is a small replica of the world in all its complexity.

I tried to find pictures or drawings of Old Cairo dating back more than 200 years. I wanted to find out what people looked like, but I could not, whereas I can easily tell you what ancient Egyptians looked like from the rich visual history they left. I discovered that Egyptians, not allowed by Islamic traditions to depict people, resorted to words. I discovered that people in this country are crazy about history, about preserving the old. We have words in our daily language that date back to the times of the ancients.

I also discovered that people who live in Cairo may not be able to see it as clearly as newcomers. When I showed my film in Paris, the projectionist told me he would love to live in this city.

I even have a friend who fell victim to his love of Cairo. He was also French and often told me he would love to live in Cairo for the rest of his life, but that it kept its secrets for the eyes of its children only. He used to say, I will always be a khawagga. He tried to speak the language, but always had an accent, and that frustrated him. After he moved to Paris, I called his wife to see how they were doing. She told me he had been admitted to a sanatorium.

Nobody lives in the city without falling for it. It is very unlike other cities in that it is very safe. I lived in terror for a whole month in New York. People who lived there all their lives warned me against going out at night, while here in Cairo I feel safe going home in a taxi at 3 a.m. I feel safe and welcome. Although it is a big and busy city, people do not mind being stopped and asked for help. This may be changing a little due to the dire circumstances, but when the circumstances change, people will go back to their friendly selves.

Cairo has grown from the days of the Fustat and Al-Mahrusa (The Protected). Do you know it was called that because when the Fatimids built it they placed guards at its entrances to stop the riffraff from coming in? Traders and service people had to get permission to go in, and started settling around it to serve the rich people living inside the walls. This is the case today; as the upper classes move to a new area, service classes move to the fringes. Cairos area now measures 60 kilometers by 60 kilometers and it is overcrowded, but we still love it.

The most important thing is that people from all over Egypt and the world give up some of themselves and become more tolerant when they live in Cairo, which is exactly what makes it what it is.

It always will.


Farghali Abdel Hafiz

Painter

You form memories with old cities like Cairo. Romantic, cultural, or national events are stored inside you, and the streets of the city bring the memories back. Places, too, have their own memories. Needless to say, Cairo is present inside me.

This is why I felt I had to express this presence in the only way I know, through art. What I wanted to record was not just this love I have for the past of the city. I also wanted to depict my love for its future. Cities change, and you cannot help but wish they stayed, or became, cleaner and quieter. We humans are the only creatures capable of this: expressing the past, the present and the future.

In a recent exhibition, I expressed my love for this unusual city. It is unusual because of its complexity. It has touches and remnants of the ancient Egyptian civilization, and of the three civilizations that overlap to make it what it is today. In Florence, for example, we see mainly Renaissance art. In New York, everything is new and modern. The civilizations in Paris and London are not as deep as in Cairo.

This historical depth, I believe, reflects itself in different places in the city. The Pyramids of Giza, and the Sphinx that directs its gaze at the sunrise are not just blocks of stone. They are events.

Cairo is cluttered, yet loved. It is difficult to live in, yet we adore it. It has a certain spirituality you get addicted to, despite the noise and the vexations it causes. There is an energy that transcends all this, and which makes us fall in love with it, accepting all its problems.

The people in Cairo are unique, too. They suffer through bad circumstances, yet the smile never leaves their faces. This is only one example of the many paradoxes that make up Cairo. What protects it from bursting is the spirituality in it.

I refer to the city as a woman. In the past, I used the symbol of the doll to represent Cairo. When the female element is strong, it means the whole country is strong, and the opposite is true. Weak women signal an atrophying civilization. Women are very present in my work, as they were in the work of the ancient Egyptians. You find them in relief etchings and in temple drawings and sculptures.

When I paint Cairo, I do not limit myself to a certain palette of colors. Take Qasr El-Nil, for example. This area is one of the most beautiful in the world. We try to destroy it, yet we fail. True, we sometimes increase the lighting at night, but it remains saturated with romance. I rarely feel any discord in the area. People are in a constant state of joy. When I painted it, I chose a night scene, and used mainly blue colors. People became part of the Nile, and the lights came out of their eyes. You feel companionship in the painting. You also feel a yearning to protect this romance.

This painting was an ode to the future. I still feel that one exhibition is not enough to record how I feel about Cairo.


Salah Eissa

Historian, Editor-in-Chief of Al-Qahira

Historians tend to see more than one edition of a place. I have been interested in the history of places since my early years. Places have more than one soul, like cats with seven lives. I see the various historical events that have taken place in a location over the years.

Once, I remember stopping in front of a memorial in KitKat Square. The inscription on it read: Here ended the Ahram battle between Mamelukes and Bonaparte in 1799. Something like this makes me stop and think of this square and of other historical associations.

The KitKat was named after a famous nightclub dating back to the Second World War. It was where the spy Hekmat Fahmy used to dance, and where she got to know a couple of German spies. The three played an important role in spying on the Allied forces. Place is history.

I came to Cairo from Mit Ghamr 50 years ago, and since then I have been following the development of its streets. Cairo used to be very quiet. I experienced a time when it was safe to cross the streets and loiter in front of shop windows. I lived at a time when cafs were quiet places with no cards or tawla allowed in them. The intellectuals domains in the past, cafs were more like private places.

Cairo has grown so crowded because it has grown without much planning. You do not see this in other cities that are as populous. The ugliness has increased. I remember a time when Cairo was made up of houses and small buildings, and the Emmeubilia Building was one of a kind. Today, towers and mega malls are everywhere. The city has lost its romance. Even the new districts display a mishmash of styles.

I also remember a time when Fatimid Cairo looked a lot like its original self. Later it was raided, monuments were occupied and shops sprang up everywhere. Of course, there are attempts underway to restore it to what it originally looked like.

Bridges have changed the horizon of the city, disrupting views. They are a necessity, of course, but I wonder whether their locations have been chosen wisely. There used to be a pedestrian bridge in Tahrir square, and I remember writing an editorial called: The Bridge and Your Tired Feet. People had to walk up tall flights of stairs, while the cars glided smoothly below. The government at the time solved traffic problems at the expense of the people.

Even beautiful suburbs have been invaded by the crowds. I had this idea in the past, and it seems to be accurate: The villages of the world laying siege to the cities of the world. The upper classes often choose exclusive areas to live in, until the middle and lower classes move into them.

Take Abassiya, which the aristocrats chose, then abandoned when the less privileged moved in. They went to El-Hilmiyya El-Gedida, then to Zamalek, and then Garden City, and now they have reached the Alex Desert Road. All this has taken place in a haphazard manner. Maadi used to be a haven for expatriates, but not anymore. Suburbs are losing their individuality.

Our memory remains intact despite the transgressions on the original places. The places in my memory no longer exist as I remember them. I no longer enjoy strolling in the streets of Cairo. I used to enjoy looking at used books at Souk El-Ezbekeya. We used to find rare books, until the market became a series of shops selling books at exorbitant prices.

In the revolutions attempts to develop Cairo, it squandered some of its assets. By destroying the walls around the Ezbekeya gardens, they also destroyed a number of rare plants. Now it has become normal to destroy a garden to make space for a new building.

I remember a beautiful city, and I do not like to see what it has come to now. It is like a boy who had a first love. As he grows up, he refuses to see how his lover has changed.

The main issue is to try and preserve the citys uniqueness. I do not want to see a picture of Cairo and not know whether it is London or some other city. It is impossible to see a picture of Tunis or Sanaa and not recognize them. We must preserve the historical landmarks, the places, the gardens, the statues. It was stupid to replace the statue of Suleiman Pasha El-Faransawy with that of Talaat Harb. Yes, he was French, but he was the founder of the Egyptian Army.

Despite the chaos, Cairo will remain the center that attracts talented Arabs from all branches of culture. It assumes this role by virtue of its history and its richness, and also by virtue of its sheer size, which is equal to the size of some Arab countries. But to continue doing so, it must produce culture. It must also know that this unique position is not a monopoly, but a form of unity achieved through diversity.

Cairo, the center of the cultural world in the Middle East, must respect the cultures of others. It has assumed its role after years of Arab ostracism because no other country was able to fill it.

But to continue doing so, it must avoid stagnation.


Ibrahim Aslan

Novelist

My relationship WITH Cairo is mainly a nighttime one. Ones relationship with places gains importance because of the memories we share with this place. The memories create features or characteristics that we impose on the city and that may have no connection to how the place really looks. It is a mlange of emotions.

Ill give you an example: Someone is currently turning my novel, Asafir El-Nil, into a film script. He went to Imbaba to look at the locations mentioned in the book and was shocked to find that the places bear no resemblance to what I describe. To tell you the truth I was surprised, too. Emotions, memories and a number of geographical features blend to make up a place that is your very own and that may not exist in reality.

The same applies to Cairo. At night, whoever sees it finds it is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, which is very strange. It is the exact opposite of daytime Cairo. For years, I worked the night shift at the Ramsis telecommunications center. We would walk around the streets of Cairo at midnight and never finished work before dawn. I noticed something really strange. I had just came back from St. Petersburg, which is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It was built 300 years ago for the sole purpose of standing on par with the cultural capitals of the world on the opposite shores. The architecture is exceptionally beautiful, and there are forests amongst the buildings. I saw it at night and during the day. Night over there disguises some of the citys beauty. It makes the forests look daunting and conceals the details in the buildings.

In Cairo, on the other hand, all the ugly buildings disappear at night, and the captivating old buildings wake up. They come out into the foreground theyre the only ones you see. Trees, which we never even felt existed during the day, wake up as well. So does the Nile; you feel it breathing.

During the day in Cairo, you constantly feel as if you are running away from something, from the traffic and the buildings that disfigure the architecture of the city. Something hounds you and you want to finish your errands and run. There is not a single free moment to stop and look at a beautiful building. At night, when this souk is over, the tempo of the city quiets down. The sky starts to exist again, the stars start to exist, and so does the moon. You feel that you have become part of this cosmos. If you see a girl walking in the streets of Cairo at 3 am, you have time to ponder and question the story behind her. This different tempo and its cosmic nature changes your own rhythm, it gives you the ability to meditate, which is not possible during the day.

In the past, and older people remember this better, there was a time when Cairo was quiet, when there was architectural harmony. Its streets, they tell us, used to be washed with soap and water. What is happening now is a state of chaos, and it is taking over. It is intellectual chaos and a lack of imagination. The chaos in architecture is an embodiment of our mentality, of whats inside us. How can you explain it when you see a serene old building with wires hanging all over it, and with air-conditioners piercing its dear old walls? There is cruelty inside peoples souls; there is internal ugliness that manifests itself on the outside.

We have lost the sense of form. I mean form in its deeper meaning, in the relationship between things. I pass by Tahrir Square daily. I see some lovely spots; a green area, some rectangles, some triangles. But you miss the most important thing; the touch that connects these things, which will create a character for the place. It is only if this character exists that a relationship between citizens and places can exist. You pass through Cairo without forging any kind of connection with places.

Take the statue of Abdel Moneim Riyad and all that he represents. I remember pictures of him in his loose trousers, his cap and his binoculars, and now I see him stooping in the midan [next to the Egyptian Museum]. His trousers are too tight for him and he is surrounded by light-posts that are higher than the statue. I have to look for him to see him if I even want to see him, that is. A statue should be an important and attractive visual element. It should dominate. This is an example of the lack of the sense of form in its broader meaning. Theory says that anything that has no form has no meaning. We scamper here and there looking for ways to give our lives a better form, so that life will have meaning.

Real literature and the arts are very important in that they innoculate people with the idea of form. I say real because not all literature and art is real. Real art is a living being. It is perfect in that you cannot replace one part or remove it. It would be like replacing someones arm with his leg. When people are not educated to appreciate real literature and art, this leads to a kind of haphazard thinking, which reflects itself in everything around us.

I believe that the educational system is collapsing completely. No one can convince me otherwise. The only savior is the arts. Reading is crucial. Forging a relationship between children and books is a responsibility that transcends the ages. Not working on it borders on high treason. It is an intimate relationship that lives on inside a child, and results in a different individual, a civilized one. What we see today in music, cinema and architecture is a result of the chaos inside peoples beings. Reading poetry and novels is not a luxury. It helps build a respectable individual, who will not contribute to the ugliness and cruelty around us. Poverty has nothing to do with it. Poor people can have taste if they are educated to appreciate arts and to respect form.


Osama Anwar Okasha

Writer, screenwriter

Cairo is a city with history. Cities are not just places, they are a place, plus people, plus culture, plus history. And Cairo is much more than just a city. Yes, it has been Egypts capital since the time of the Fatimids. But it is also the gateway to Africa. Its status in the area is important because of the pioneering role it has always played. It is the capital of the Arab world and the capital of Africa. It is the role a city plays that determines its identity.

If we look at the demography, we find that Cairo is a truly cosmopolitan city that encompasses all human and architectural types. You find people from the Delta, from Upper Egypt, from Greece, from Italy, from the Levant, and they all settle and become Cairenes. They all come to work and live here, because it is the center of all the action. And here we see the interplay between the place, the people and the time, making the city similar, yet different, throughout the ages. These are the three elements I look for when writing drama.

This is why Cairo is not just a place. It is a being, a role and a state of civilization. It has maintained its importance throughout the ages, and it will continue to exist in the future. It may experience what humans experience; it may grow old. This is one of its main problems. No new blood is injected into it. Population density, architectural chaos and pollution are all new problems that have imposed themselves on Cairo.

The question is whether it will continue to be important. I believe that the importance of Cairo relates directly to the importance of Egypt as a whole. So does its role as the center of Africa and the Arab world. Can Egypt continue to play this part?