Healing Pains
Health officials want it shut down, but Al-Nadim Center is carrying on its mission to help victims of torture rebuild their lives
By Manal el-Jesri
For Dr. Abdallah Mansour, July 11, 2004 began like any other work day. It was another quiet morning at Al-Nadim Center for the Psychological Rehabilitation of Victims of Torture, the only facility of its kind in the nation, when a committee of three health inspectors stopped by for a visit.
The quiet was quickly shattered.
“They were officials from Cairo governorate’s department of health, and their job is to monitor private medical centers,” says Mansour, the center’s chief psychiatrist. “They are to make sure that patients are not abused, that prices are not exorbitant, and that the person in charge is a licensed physician. It’s not their job to look at what this doctor is doing, so long as he is not doing something he is not supposed to like finding me performing an operation.
“They must also check the building’s safety and hygiene. As you can see, the place here is fine on both counts, while the department where they work is swamped with underground water and street vendors,” Mansour growls.
Used to a certain standard of professional courtesy between physicians, Mansour is still livid that the three barged into the center “as if they were the police” and declared they had judicial authority.
“They did not ask for our license, did not look at the apparent safety of the place, but declared right away that they wanted to search the premises,” Mansour alleges. “I wanted to close the door because there were patients outside, but one of the two female doctors panicked and flung it open. As if I would attack them. Their third member was quite a strong man to begin with. I tried to explain the fragile nature of victims of violence, who are easily intimidated by the mention of police or by the mere occurrence of any kind of clash. But they simply said, ‘We do not really care about your patients’,” he claims.
According to Mansour, the three men began rifling through the drawers of his private desk, sifting through family photos and correspondence with other NGOs, including the Egyptian Association Against Torture, which the committee kept referring to as “a foreign entity”.
“They looked under the chairs and went through our filing cabinet although I asked them not to look at patients’ files. They kept mentioning the police and said they were going to close down our center. Whenever I tried to take my papers away from them, they said I could pick them up from the police station later. Then they started writing their report, and when I tried to sign after each statement, they would not allow me to,” he claims.
A routine inspection? Not likely. Mansour says it was a threat the first overt one the center has experienced in its 12 years of operations.
“We are used to less direct messages reaching us, informing us of authorities’ displeasure. Never before had we been threatened or treated like this,” he says.
Although health inspectors refused to comment, senior members of Al-Nadim Center released a press release that claimed to quote from a Ministry of Health letter outlining the alleged violations. It read: “The center is run for objectives other than the ones for which it has been registered, the establishment does not have the shape of a medical establishment, absence of first aid measures, and the absence of the medical director.”
In the wake of the visit, the center was ordered closed for 30 days.
“We went to the Prosecutor General and started our campaign,” Mansour says. “We were questioned, but I do not know what the final outcome is going to be. A few days ago [in mid-September] a new committee came, and Dr. Suzan [Fayyad, a Nadim staffer] took one of the inspectors by the hand and led him to see the first aid cabinet. Although as a psychiatric clinic it is not our job to carry out regular first aid, we do have first aid. One of the doctors tripped on our fire extinguisher on his way out. This new committee was much more polite and declared our violations had been eliminated, although we had done nothing to change the way the place looked.”
Two days later, Dr. Fayyad was called in for questioning at the district prosecutor’s office. She was informed that the first committee has also alleged that the center was in violation for having on its premises T-shirts belonging to the Egyptian Association Against Torture (in a sealed box that one of the first inspectors opened with a pocket knife without a warrant); a questionnaire about methods of torture; “prisoners’ files” (Mansour says the files were not of prisoners, but of torture victims who have sought help at Al-Nadim); books on human rights, books stored on a balcony.
Al-Nadim’s press release posed a number of questions: “Has the Ministry of Health lately taken charge of the mandates of other ministries? Has it taken charge of searching victims’ files on behalf of the Ministry of Interior, and of the center’s internal affairs on behalf of the Ministry of Social Affairs?”
Mansour claims the harassment began a few days after a highly publicized march against torture on June 26.
“It also came after we opened the files of a number of cases, including the group torture in Helwan [which allegedly took place near the end of 2003] and the case of child abuse [the Maadi nursery case]. This could be the reason why we were targeted at this time in particular.
“[The] authorities are not used to anyone saying, ‘No.’ The main aim of torturers is to turn their subjects into trivial things. The victims are not allowed to say anything. If only one person were to do so, to express pain, seek help and pursue justice, then this means they are failing in their job. The same applies to the child abuse case. They do not want our self-image [as a gentle nation] to be shaken. They want people to accept abuse, because if they stop it at this level, they will then move on to another level.
“But every time victims seek support and help, we will seek to heal their wounds. Our center is open for whoever seeks its help, at any time, no matter the extent of violence he or she has been subjected to, no matter who the violator is, and no matter how much they try to stop us. This is our commitment.”
At press time, Al-Nadim Center’s case remained open at the Prosecutor General’s Office. Officials there and at the Ministry of Health have consistently declined requests from media, Arabic- and foreign-language alike, to discuss the case.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
25 years of muzzled press
September 2004
A Free Press
After Nasser’s iron fist and Sadat’s roundup of dissendent journalists, today’s media professionals enjoy a degree of freedom unprecendented since the Revolution. Here’s how it all went down.
By Manal el-Jesri
EGYPT HAS LIVED through 25 years of media ups and downs, from the time Sadat put a muzzle on most journalists, to the age of President Hosni Mubarak declaring himself the number-one champion of freedom of the press.
Throughout the years, journalists have managed to get their message across to the people, whether through official media, opposition newspapers, the semi-independent press or via satellite channels. Today, despite the continuing efforts of some to control the media, it has become impossible to interrupt the flow of information. Among the highlights and lowlights:
The Watch
A City Reborn
How Alexandria has transformed itself from a run-down provin...
Great Crooks
The Open Door ushered in an era of unprecedented economic gr...
Invincible Cairo
Six of the capital citys most renowned artists and writers r...
Egypt Then, Egypt Today
25 years later, Bill Harrison’s dream is going stronger...
A Breath of Fresh Air
Human rights watchdogs who draw attention to abuses still fi...
’Isms of Our Age
Some may have become things of the past, but the ’isms ...
The Art of Change
With new legislation on everything from economics and person...
Pluralism at Death’s Door?
Twenty-seven years ago, Sadat created the nation’s poli...
All God’s Children
Politicians have used religion to gain legitimacy. Extremist...
Sinai Homecoming
In the two decades since the Israeli withdrawal, Sinai has h...
Urban Sprawl
As the capital has become too crowded for comfort, a new gen...
The Saeedis Awake
From Islamist violence to new patterns of development, more ...
The OnlyArab League Success Story?
An Inside look at Alexandria’s Arab Academy for Science...
Our Very Own Godfather
Friends and colleagues pay tribute to Egypt Today’s fou...
By The Numbers
Believe it or not, the nation has taken massive strides towa...
Young Turks
Are these splinter groups the leading parties of tomorrow?...
Special Issues
A look back at some of our most popular special issues of th...
Gold Rush
It’s been a wild ride since Sadat declared the Open-Doo...
Two Steps Forward
and one step back. A look at 25 years of milestones along th...
Invincible Cairo
Six of the capital city’s most renowned artists and wri...
The Saeedis Awake
From Islamist violence to new patterns of development, more ...
September 1981: President Anwar Sadat rounds up hundreds of opposition political activists, writers and journalists, throwing them in prison. The crackdown was so significant that even today it is simply referred to as “The September Events.” The writers and journalists were later released by President Hosni Mubarak, who was officially elected president in November 1981. His era started with a lot of optimism: Perhaps it was time for freedom of the press.
December 1981: Naguib Mahfouz sends a subtle message to the new government via Al-Ahram: “The issue is not a purely media related one. It all goes back to the politics of the government versus the people. In the past, the government decided it was wise to hide truths or reveal them slowly, for fear people would feel frustrated. The government thought it could in this way encourage people to become more optimistic and patient.
Associated Press Photo
Mohamed El-Wakilimprisoned for bribery
“This didn’t prevent anyone from noticing the drastic discrepancy between what was said and what was really happening. The result was hardly what officials hoped for. I think it is time we tried the other road, the road of honesty and truth. It is also time to get rid of the euphemisms and rosy promises, to put truth and duty before the citizens.”
1982: Mubarak reinstates the licenses of a number of opposition newspapers that had been shuttered during Sadat’s years. Among them: Al-Ahali, Al-Ahrar, Al-Shaab, Watani, Al-Tali’a and Al-Itisam. Later, the government regretted giving the opposition such a broad platform. Writers for the official press were encouraged to viciously attack the opposition press. In 1984, Ali El-Daly writes for Mayo magazine: “Presidents of opposition parties and their members drool as they hysterically demand equal time on the television screens. They want equal opportunities to reach the public. The only thing they care about is that the protagonists of the devilish Soviet occupation stand on par with honest, God-fearing Egyptians. All they care about is that the protagonists of defeat stand on par with the protagonists of victory. They want the agents of foreign powers to become equal to the brave patriots. They also want the killers of Sadat to be equal in rights to the heroes of the October War.”
Meanwhile, terrestrial television now broadcasts to 26 governorates, up from 16 the previous year. Total programming hours on TV now run to 26 per day, while the number of newspapers leaps from six to 12.
January 1983: Media experts at the Specialized National Committees demand effective steps be taken to stop nightclub singers from appearing on television or from standing in front of radio microphones. Media should not be allowed to advertise their work for fear it might speed the deterioration of social values.
January 1984: As part of the campaign to reintegrate Egypt into the Arab world, Minister of Information Safwat El-Sherif declares, “This year is to be the year for our media to reach out to our Arab brothers.” The same year, the first issue of Al-Wafd rolls off the press. A daily, it quickly becomes the leading opposition newspaper.
July 1984: Egypt’s first media day is held
January 1986: Writer Salama Ahmed Salama criticizes the government for failing to disclose the exact number of deaths that resulted when commandos stormed an Egyptian airliner hijacked on its trip from Athens to Malta. Salama also criticizes blasé coverage of an incident in Ras El-Berka in which an Egyptian soldier, Soliman Khater, killed seven Israelis. Khater was sentenced to life imprisonment, but committed suicide days after his indictment. According to Salama, the Egyptian media’s low-key coverage allowed the Arab media to accuse authorities of killing Khater. Many Arab dailies ran long obituaries mourning “the death of a martyr.”
That same month, the Arab Radio and Television Union officially launches Channel 3, its first regional channel; and the opposition grills El-Sherif in the People’s Assembly on why opposition figures are not allowed to voice their views in the official media.
February 1986: Central Security recruits go on a rampage in Cairo. For the first time in history, Egyptian television airs around-the-clock reports. El-Sherif forms an operations room to monitor everything aired in international media about the riots. Official media covers the riots in Shubra, another first for media freedom.
March 1986: The Arab Network for Media and Communication Research and Documentation is formed.
March 1987: Egyptian media handles the landing of a hijacked Libyan aircraft in Cairo Airport with professionalism. Despite the problems with Libya, the media did not try to exploit the fact that five Libyan army officers had landed in Egypt seeking political asylum. The events were merely reported objectively.
That same month, Yassin Serag Eddin of El-Wafd party questions El-Sherif on the “failure of his media policies.” Serag Eddin cites losses of LE 76 million and attacks the “policies of concealment,” pointing out that the public gets to hear nothing about internal events because the press has become nothing but a government bulletin.
Also in 1987: UNESCO funds the formation of the Arab Radio and Television Union’s first international video news center at a cost of $400,000; the Smithsonian Institute produces a film on Islam and Islamic Egypt, explaining Islam’s stance regarding terrorism.
May 5, 1988: State television reaches Taba, Rafah and Nuweiba, thus covering all of Sinai. Channel 4, the first channel based outside Cairo, goes live, targeting the Canal governorates. Also in May, Writer Youssef Idriss falls prey to lies propagated by Professor Ahmed Shafiq: He helps campaign for Shafiq’s claim to have discovered a cure for AIDS and believes reports that the professor was nominated for the Nobel prize.
October 1993: State-owned Channel 7 is launched, targeting the northern part of Upper Egypt; the Egyptian Satellite Channel (ESC) also goes live.
1994: Prosecutor General Ragaa Al-Arabi bans any media coverage of the real estate scandal on the Red Sea, which eventually ends up toppling the governor and a number of local officials. None were prosecuted.
1995: Egypt’s first Arab Radio and Television festival kicks off. Al-Mobdi’on Yatakabaloun (Creative People Meet), a statement first uttered by El-Sherif, becomes the festival’s motto.
May 1995: Egypt’s press Law No. 93 of 1995 passes in the People’s Assembly. In the following 12 months, 99 journalists, writers and artists including 25 editors-in-chief are prosecuted under the law. Many were imprisoned and fined.
In response, the Press Syndicate releases its first press code of ethics, stipulating that journalists adhere to honesty and objectivity in their work. It also encourages journalists not to bow in the face of pressure, never to divulge their sources, and not to give in to attacks on their person or work.
May 1996: The Egyptian Satellite Channel (ESC) reaches the United States and Canada.
December 1996: “Scandal on the Nile” declares the lead headline in Rose El-Youssef magazine for an investigative piece on corruption at the Arab Radio and Television Union (ARTU) under chairman Mamdouh El-Leithy. The story includes a whiff of sex, abuse of office and the strong stench of money Saudi money.
Employees at state-owned Egyptian Television claim they spent their time doing work for MBC, Orbit and ART instead of their original jobs. They allege that little money was pouring into their pockets, saying it lined El-Leithy’s pockets instead. The story alleges the ARTU boss received an LE 482,000 Mercedes from Saudi businessman Ibrahim bin Brahim so that the latter could pursue an affair with actress Sherine Seif Al-Nasr while she was supposed to be filming a series for Egyptian state television. Seif Al-Nasr, for her part, is alleged to have received a BMW.
El-Leithy responds by suing Adel Hammouda, then Rose El-Youssef’s deputy editor, for libel, effectively bringing disaster upon himself when an investigation by the Prosecutor General’s office confirms El-Leithy had his hand in the cookie jar. El-Leithy is also accused of arranging parties for starlets to meet Gulf Arab millionaires.
February 1997: The independent newspaper Al-Destour, printed in Cyprus, is banned after a headline story warned of a pending Al-Gama’a Al-Islamiyya attack on leading Coptic businessmen, including Orascom chief Naguib Sawiris. Feeling the reins slipping from its hands, the state extends its ban to a number of other publications.
The decision is made public on March 31, reading in part: “After referring to the Constitution, the Trade Law, Law 8 of 1997 on investment incentives, Presidential Decree 284 of 1997 creating the Investment Authority and Free Zones, Presidential Decree 285 of 1997, Prime Ministerial decree 2108 of 1997, Decree 616 of 1997 on preventing Arabic publications from local circulation (except those that specialize in technical, social, sports, economic or financial issues) and decree 55 of 1998 preventing all print projects in Arabic printed in the free zone from local distribution” the General Authority for Free Zones and Investments bans the printing of any publication of any kind in any language in Egypt’s free zones.
Forty-one publications fail to come out on time. Fortunately for them (Egypt Today included), the decision was a short-lived one.
March 1997: Al-Shaab reporter Magdi Hussein becomes the first journalist jailed for libel under the May 1995 press law. Hussein was sued after alleging that a prominent businesswoman married the son of Interior Minister Hassan El-Alfi. The journalist had been carrying out a campaign accusing the minister of abuse of power and condoning police brutality. Al-Shaab is later banned.
October 1997: The press sides with the prosecution in allegations that actresses Nihal Anbar, Hanan Turk and Wafaa Amer were involved in a high-class prostitution ring. All three had been arrested but are subsequently set free. Later that month, Prosecutor General Ragaa Al-Arabi bans any reporting on the case of Sabri Farahat who, with his brother, stands accused of killing nine German tourists and an Egyptian guide in Tahrir Square. The ban comes after Al-Wafd alleged the two brothers were linked to an Islamist militant group. The brothers are later declared “mentally disturbed” and sentenced to death.
1998: Mubarak inaugurates Egypt Media Production City in Sixth of October City.
January 1998: Nilesat 101 launches, carrying specialized channels including channels for Children and Family, Entertainment, News, Drama and Sports.
June 2000: Nefertiti and Adult Education channels go live on Nilesat. Later that month, the media free-zone becomes home to 20 international production companies, including Al-Jazeera, Tamima, Sony, Orbit, Showtime and ART.
August 2000: Nilesat 102, the nation’s second satellite, launches.
November 2000: Al-Mehwar starts airing on Nilesat, with 15 percent of its shares owned by the Egyptian Radio and Television Union. El-Sherif points out that this in no way means the government is planning to interfere in the channel’s agenda or muzzle its right to freedom of expression.
July 2001: Al-Salam City’s media complex, built on 1,350 meters at a cost of LE 206 million, opens.
March 2002: Egyptian television news reporters are attacked by Israeli troops while reporting in the Gaza Strip.
2002: Another corruption scandal rocks the Maspero headquarters of state-owned television: Mohamed El-Wakil, the director of the News Sector, is arrested and later found guilty of charges of bribery and corruption. El-Wakil, claiming innocence, declares, “I received presents. I never knew I was not allowed to do so.” The presents included several Rolex watches, a car, and a number of gold items, all given for arranging bookings on the nation’s top-rated morning television show, Good Morning, Egypt.
August 2003: Hosny Guindy, the founding editor-in-chief of Al-Ahram Weekly, dies, leaving the reins to managing editor Hani Shukrallah.
2004: President Mubarak promises a new unified press law that would eliminate prison penalties in the existing press laws. The president called for immediate work on the new law, but months later not much has taken place. Parliamentarians delay debate of the new draft to the coming People’s Assembly session, this fall.
A Free Press
After Nasser’s iron fist and Sadat’s roundup of dissendent journalists, today’s media professionals enjoy a degree of freedom unprecendented since the Revolution. Here’s how it all went down.
By Manal el-Jesri
EGYPT HAS LIVED through 25 years of media ups and downs, from the time Sadat put a muzzle on most journalists, to the age of President Hosni Mubarak declaring himself the number-one champion of freedom of the press.
Throughout the years, journalists have managed to get their message across to the people, whether through official media, opposition newspapers, the semi-independent press or via satellite channels. Today, despite the continuing efforts of some to control the media, it has become impossible to interrupt the flow of information. Among the highlights and lowlights:
The Watch
A City Reborn
How Alexandria has transformed itself from a run-down provin...
Great Crooks
The Open Door ushered in an era of unprecedented economic gr...
Invincible Cairo
Six of the capital citys most renowned artists and writers r...
Egypt Then, Egypt Today
25 years later, Bill Harrison’s dream is going stronger...
A Breath of Fresh Air
Human rights watchdogs who draw attention to abuses still fi...
’Isms of Our Age
Some may have become things of the past, but the ’isms ...
The Art of Change
With new legislation on everything from economics and person...
Pluralism at Death’s Door?
Twenty-seven years ago, Sadat created the nation’s poli...
All God’s Children
Politicians have used religion to gain legitimacy. Extremist...
Sinai Homecoming
In the two decades since the Israeli withdrawal, Sinai has h...
Urban Sprawl
As the capital has become too crowded for comfort, a new gen...
The Saeedis Awake
From Islamist violence to new patterns of development, more ...
The OnlyArab League Success Story?
An Inside look at Alexandria’s Arab Academy for Science...
Our Very Own Godfather
Friends and colleagues pay tribute to Egypt Today’s fou...
By The Numbers
Believe it or not, the nation has taken massive strides towa...
Young Turks
Are these splinter groups the leading parties of tomorrow?...
Special Issues
A look back at some of our most popular special issues of th...
Gold Rush
It’s been a wild ride since Sadat declared the Open-Doo...
Two Steps Forward
and one step back. A look at 25 years of milestones along th...
Invincible Cairo
Six of the capital city’s most renowned artists and wri...
The Saeedis Awake
From Islamist violence to new patterns of development, more ...
September 1981: President Anwar Sadat rounds up hundreds of opposition political activists, writers and journalists, throwing them in prison. The crackdown was so significant that even today it is simply referred to as “The September Events.” The writers and journalists were later released by President Hosni Mubarak, who was officially elected president in November 1981. His era started with a lot of optimism: Perhaps it was time for freedom of the press.
December 1981: Naguib Mahfouz sends a subtle message to the new government via Al-Ahram: “The issue is not a purely media related one. It all goes back to the politics of the government versus the people. In the past, the government decided it was wise to hide truths or reveal them slowly, for fear people would feel frustrated. The government thought it could in this way encourage people to become more optimistic and patient.
Associated Press Photo
Mohamed El-Wakilimprisoned for bribery
“This didn’t prevent anyone from noticing the drastic discrepancy between what was said and what was really happening. The result was hardly what officials hoped for. I think it is time we tried the other road, the road of honesty and truth. It is also time to get rid of the euphemisms and rosy promises, to put truth and duty before the citizens.”
1982: Mubarak reinstates the licenses of a number of opposition newspapers that had been shuttered during Sadat’s years. Among them: Al-Ahali, Al-Ahrar, Al-Shaab, Watani, Al-Tali’a and Al-Itisam. Later, the government regretted giving the opposition such a broad platform. Writers for the official press were encouraged to viciously attack the opposition press. In 1984, Ali El-Daly writes for Mayo magazine: “Presidents of opposition parties and their members drool as they hysterically demand equal time on the television screens. They want equal opportunities to reach the public. The only thing they care about is that the protagonists of the devilish Soviet occupation stand on par with honest, God-fearing Egyptians. All they care about is that the protagonists of defeat stand on par with the protagonists of victory. They want the agents of foreign powers to become equal to the brave patriots. They also want the killers of Sadat to be equal in rights to the heroes of the October War.”
Meanwhile, terrestrial television now broadcasts to 26 governorates, up from 16 the previous year. Total programming hours on TV now run to 26 per day, while the number of newspapers leaps from six to 12.
January 1983: Media experts at the Specialized National Committees demand effective steps be taken to stop nightclub singers from appearing on television or from standing in front of radio microphones. Media should not be allowed to advertise their work for fear it might speed the deterioration of social values.
January 1984: As part of the campaign to reintegrate Egypt into the Arab world, Minister of Information Safwat El-Sherif declares, “This year is to be the year for our media to reach out to our Arab brothers.” The same year, the first issue of Al-Wafd rolls off the press. A daily, it quickly becomes the leading opposition newspaper.
July 1984: Egypt’s first media day is held
January 1986: Writer Salama Ahmed Salama criticizes the government for failing to disclose the exact number of deaths that resulted when commandos stormed an Egyptian airliner hijacked on its trip from Athens to Malta. Salama also criticizes blasé coverage of an incident in Ras El-Berka in which an Egyptian soldier, Soliman Khater, killed seven Israelis. Khater was sentenced to life imprisonment, but committed suicide days after his indictment. According to Salama, the Egyptian media’s low-key coverage allowed the Arab media to accuse authorities of killing Khater. Many Arab dailies ran long obituaries mourning “the death of a martyr.”
That same month, the Arab Radio and Television Union officially launches Channel 3, its first regional channel; and the opposition grills El-Sherif in the People’s Assembly on why opposition figures are not allowed to voice their views in the official media.
February 1986: Central Security recruits go on a rampage in Cairo. For the first time in history, Egyptian television airs around-the-clock reports. El-Sherif forms an operations room to monitor everything aired in international media about the riots. Official media covers the riots in Shubra, another first for media freedom.
March 1986: The Arab Network for Media and Communication Research and Documentation is formed.
March 1987: Egyptian media handles the landing of a hijacked Libyan aircraft in Cairo Airport with professionalism. Despite the problems with Libya, the media did not try to exploit the fact that five Libyan army officers had landed in Egypt seeking political asylum. The events were merely reported objectively.
That same month, Yassin Serag Eddin of El-Wafd party questions El-Sherif on the “failure of his media policies.” Serag Eddin cites losses of LE 76 million and attacks the “policies of concealment,” pointing out that the public gets to hear nothing about internal events because the press has become nothing but a government bulletin.
Also in 1987: UNESCO funds the formation of the Arab Radio and Television Union’s first international video news center at a cost of $400,000; the Smithsonian Institute produces a film on Islam and Islamic Egypt, explaining Islam’s stance regarding terrorism.
May 5, 1988: State television reaches Taba, Rafah and Nuweiba, thus covering all of Sinai. Channel 4, the first channel based outside Cairo, goes live, targeting the Canal governorates. Also in May, Writer Youssef Idriss falls prey to lies propagated by Professor Ahmed Shafiq: He helps campaign for Shafiq’s claim to have discovered a cure for AIDS and believes reports that the professor was nominated for the Nobel prize.
October 1993: State-owned Channel 7 is launched, targeting the northern part of Upper Egypt; the Egyptian Satellite Channel (ESC) also goes live.
1994: Prosecutor General Ragaa Al-Arabi bans any media coverage of the real estate scandal on the Red Sea, which eventually ends up toppling the governor and a number of local officials. None were prosecuted.
1995: Egypt’s first Arab Radio and Television festival kicks off. Al-Mobdi’on Yatakabaloun (Creative People Meet), a statement first uttered by El-Sherif, becomes the festival’s motto.
May 1995: Egypt’s press Law No. 93 of 1995 passes in the People’s Assembly. In the following 12 months, 99 journalists, writers and artists including 25 editors-in-chief are prosecuted under the law. Many were imprisoned and fined.
In response, the Press Syndicate releases its first press code of ethics, stipulating that journalists adhere to honesty and objectivity in their work. It also encourages journalists not to bow in the face of pressure, never to divulge their sources, and not to give in to attacks on their person or work.
May 1996: The Egyptian Satellite Channel (ESC) reaches the United States and Canada.
December 1996: “Scandal on the Nile” declares the lead headline in Rose El-Youssef magazine for an investigative piece on corruption at the Arab Radio and Television Union (ARTU) under chairman Mamdouh El-Leithy. The story includes a whiff of sex, abuse of office and the strong stench of money Saudi money.
Employees at state-owned Egyptian Television claim they spent their time doing work for MBC, Orbit and ART instead of their original jobs. They allege that little money was pouring into their pockets, saying it lined El-Leithy’s pockets instead. The story alleges the ARTU boss received an LE 482,000 Mercedes from Saudi businessman Ibrahim bin Brahim so that the latter could pursue an affair with actress Sherine Seif Al-Nasr while she was supposed to be filming a series for Egyptian state television. Seif Al-Nasr, for her part, is alleged to have received a BMW.
El-Leithy responds by suing Adel Hammouda, then Rose El-Youssef’s deputy editor, for libel, effectively bringing disaster upon himself when an investigation by the Prosecutor General’s office confirms El-Leithy had his hand in the cookie jar. El-Leithy is also accused of arranging parties for starlets to meet Gulf Arab millionaires.
February 1997: The independent newspaper Al-Destour, printed in Cyprus, is banned after a headline story warned of a pending Al-Gama’a Al-Islamiyya attack on leading Coptic businessmen, including Orascom chief Naguib Sawiris. Feeling the reins slipping from its hands, the state extends its ban to a number of other publications.
The decision is made public on March 31, reading in part: “After referring to the Constitution, the Trade Law, Law 8 of 1997 on investment incentives, Presidential Decree 284 of 1997 creating the Investment Authority and Free Zones, Presidential Decree 285 of 1997, Prime Ministerial decree 2108 of 1997, Decree 616 of 1997 on preventing Arabic publications from local circulation (except those that specialize in technical, social, sports, economic or financial issues) and decree 55 of 1998 preventing all print projects in Arabic printed in the free zone from local distribution” the General Authority for Free Zones and Investments bans the printing of any publication of any kind in any language in Egypt’s free zones.
Forty-one publications fail to come out on time. Fortunately for them (Egypt Today included), the decision was a short-lived one.
March 1997: Al-Shaab reporter Magdi Hussein becomes the first journalist jailed for libel under the May 1995 press law. Hussein was sued after alleging that a prominent businesswoman married the son of Interior Minister Hassan El-Alfi. The journalist had been carrying out a campaign accusing the minister of abuse of power and condoning police brutality. Al-Shaab is later banned.
October 1997: The press sides with the prosecution in allegations that actresses Nihal Anbar, Hanan Turk and Wafaa Amer were involved in a high-class prostitution ring. All three had been arrested but are subsequently set free. Later that month, Prosecutor General Ragaa Al-Arabi bans any reporting on the case of Sabri Farahat who, with his brother, stands accused of killing nine German tourists and an Egyptian guide in Tahrir Square. The ban comes after Al-Wafd alleged the two brothers were linked to an Islamist militant group. The brothers are later declared “mentally disturbed” and sentenced to death.
1998: Mubarak inaugurates Egypt Media Production City in Sixth of October City.
January 1998: Nilesat 101 launches, carrying specialized channels including channels for Children and Family, Entertainment, News, Drama and Sports.
June 2000: Nefertiti and Adult Education channels go live on Nilesat. Later that month, the media free-zone becomes home to 20 international production companies, including Al-Jazeera, Tamima, Sony, Orbit, Showtime and ART.
August 2000: Nilesat 102, the nation’s second satellite, launches.
November 2000: Al-Mehwar starts airing on Nilesat, with 15 percent of its shares owned by the Egyptian Radio and Television Union. El-Sherif points out that this in no way means the government is planning to interfere in the channel’s agenda or muzzle its right to freedom of expression.
July 2001: Al-Salam City’s media complex, built on 1,350 meters at a cost of LE 206 million, opens.
March 2002: Egyptian television news reporters are attacked by Israeli troops while reporting in the Gaza Strip.
2002: Another corruption scandal rocks the Maspero headquarters of state-owned television: Mohamed El-Wakil, the director of the News Sector, is arrested and later found guilty of charges of bribery and corruption. El-Wakil, claiming innocence, declares, “I received presents. I never knew I was not allowed to do so.” The presents included several Rolex watches, a car, and a number of gold items, all given for arranging bookings on the nation’s top-rated morning television show, Good Morning, Egypt.
August 2003: Hosny Guindy, the founding editor-in-chief of Al-Ahram Weekly, dies, leaving the reins to managing editor Hani Shukrallah.
2004: President Mubarak promises a new unified press law that would eliminate prison penalties in the existing press laws. The president called for immediate work on the new law, but months later not much has taken place. Parliamentarians delay debate of the new draft to the coming People’s Assembly session, this fall.
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?
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?
Not worth the Shot
Not Worth The Shot?
As the cost of the only FDA-approved medication to fight hepatitis C virus rises farther out of the average patients reach, quacks and swindlers are cashing in on victims suffering. Meanwhile, some are wondering: Just how effective is HCV treatment anyway?
By Manal el-Jesri
HAMDI ALI IS three years old, and his PCR tests have shown high levels of active hepatitis C virus (HCV). His mother, a young veiled woman with Hamdis green eyes, finds it difficult to hold back the tears as she hugs her baby tightly. She has come all the way from Alexandria to the National Liver Center in Monoufia, one of the most reputable in the Middle East, to make sure the boy gets his interferon injections.
The doctor from the health insurance program in Alexandria refused to allow him the interferon injections, she tells us. He says he doesnt need it. But he does. The doctors here have been wonderful. They help us out of their own pockets. A zakat [charity] committee takes care of the bills, but the treatment is too costly.
We are all interested in this case, says Dr. Mohamed el-Tabbakh, the hepatology resident at the center. He is what we call a precious baby: His mother has had a hysterectomy. He is her only child.
At LE 1,800 per shot, interferon treatment can cost up to LE 80,000 for a 24-month course, far beyond the means of most patients in Egypt. But prohibitive cost aside, just how effective is the medication at attacking HCV?
No Pain, No Gain
Although interferon, a naturally secreted chemical that is found at low levels in patients with HCV, is currently the only approved treatment for HCV, Dr. Hatem Qunsowa, director of the Monoufia center, refuses to even consider it. It is all a matter of pharmaceutical trade. Its business. Take it from me, write my name under what I am about to say: Any medication whose success rate is 50 percent is not considered a medication. [Fifty percent of those who respond to the injections will suffer a relapse after six months.] I am a pediatrician, and when I prescribe penicillin to a child with tonsillitis, I know that the medicine will work in 90 percent of the cases. If I give Erythrosine, I know 80 percent will be cured. But until today, there exists no working cure for any virus. Viruses mutate. Take SARS, for example; it was killing off people and no one was able to stop it. Take the influenza virus. It was discovered at the beginning of the 20th century, and until now the WHO releases a new vaccine for it every year. The same applies to AIDS, the weakest virus on earth, which disappears at temperatures as low as 40 C. No, Interferon is not a medicine, he claims.
Nevertheless, Dr. Qunsowa does concede that interferon is the only approved treatment. Pharmaceutical companies call it an immune modulator. Very diplomatic, right? So we give it to the patient without knowing what it will do to the body. And you have to consider the side effects, of course. It causes a decrease in white blood cell counts, can cause immune-inflammation in the liver and blood cells, and may also cause the formation of tumors. But I cannot stop the rich from taking it if they can afford it, he says.
Dr. Qunsowa believes interferon is nothing but a dangerous game. I even said it to the minister of health once. I told him, You should ban the import of interferon. Why should only rich people be able to take it? It is much ado about nothing, so just ban it.
Dr. Omran El-Bishlawi, the senior researcher at the National Hepatology and Tropical Medicine Research Institute (NHTMRI) in Qasr El-Aini also believes interferon, can often be futile, but for reasons completely different from Qunsowas. El-Bishlawi claims there is nothing to cure in the first place.
It is a big mafia, a business mafia. HCV does not exist. They made it up to scare people and create a market for interferon. LE 80,000 per year! Ridiculous! he rages.
He takes us back to an important year in history. In 1882, Koch and Pasteur discovered viruses and microbes. Koch came up with a foolproof formula to identify the properties of a virus. You have to inject it into a living organism and watch for its effects. Why arent they able to do this with HCV? Here, look at this, he says, showing me some pictures of people infected with smallpox. This is the effect a virus has. There have to be symptoms you can see. Any virus must be studied through a clinical investigation supported by a picture, he claims.
And what is their only method of testing for HCV, he asks me. PCR, or Polymerase Chain Reaction]? Correct. Do you know what PCR is? Do you know how to make yogurt? It is the same idea, they take the blood, and add materials to it, creating a polymer chain, enlarging the DNA and RNA millions of times, and they call what they see HCV, he alleges.
The trick, El-Bishlawi continues, is that the virus is made up of the same matter as the DNA and RNA. The virus is just some impurities, simply residues of the natural processes of the death of blood cells. It is not a virus, it is viral material, he says. He believes the impurities result from frequently invading the closed circulatory system with injections. You damage the fragile cells which then die and appear as distortions in the DNA and RNA, he explains.
According to El-Bishlawi, patients undergo routine blood tests, which are required by companies in the Gulf, and then they are told they have HCV. They exhibit no symptoms, do not feel anything, but are told they have a life-threatening disease. It is a mafia that aims at draining Egyptians of their health and money. They say Egypt is the country with the highest rates of HCV in the world. They do this to make us look bad, and then make money in the process, he alleges.
And then they tell us it will cause cirrhosis and cancer in the far future. But that would be because of bilharzia, and not HCV. The most dangerous and draining health problem in Egypt is bilharzia. I come from Sharqia and have worked with my own people, the Delta peasants, for 40 years. Why did the ministry tone down its campaign against bilharzia, do you think? Its because the cure is cheap. But they have to find a way of taking back the aid they give us. The only way to do it is through the pharmaceutical companies, he offers.
Needless to say El-Bishlawi has no faith in interferon. It is a naturally existing protein that helps boost the bodys immunity. Anyone who prescribes it to patients is a criminal and must go to prison. They do not carry out tests to check if the patient is low on interferon or not. And the side effects are horrendous. They range from retinal fibrosis to bone marrow depression and severe psychological depression that may lead to suicide.
It was seven years ago that El-Bishlawi developed his theory. Since then, he has tried to approach the NHTMRI, the ministry and the liver center in Monoufia. They meet all my efforts with silence. They dont want to argue with me because they dont want the media to feel my presence. They only want their voice to be heard. How else can they sell interferon? he questions. His book, The Lies of AIDS and HCV, will be on the market in a few weeks.
A Shot in the Arm
So what, then, should those diagnosed with HCV take if not interferon, the only officially accepted medication? I ask Dr. Qunsowa this question directly, and I get a direct answer: Its none of your business what I prescribe. Readers may just go and buy it and start taking it. Interferon is the only approved treatment. Thats all I can say.
As we approach the ward we hear one of the patients shouting at the top of his voice. I have lived in Saudi Arabia for 30 years, it is only a few years ago that I came back to Egypt, and I got infected with HCV, Shebl Moussa Ghannam barks. Dr. El-Tabbakh whispers to us that this is not the case. Ghannams is an end case. He must have had HCV for at least 10 years. He has cirrhosis and blood vomiting, he tells us.
In the opposite bed, Mahmoud Abdel Hamid Hassan, 47, winces with pain. Hassan is a secondary school teacher from Samannod. I was vomiting blood so badly last night I almost died. But they were able to rescue me, God bless them, he tells us. Hassan has seven children, and is paid a monthly salary of LE 221. Every time he needs injections, he pays LE 200, which he borrows from friends. The health insurance program has referred me to El-Hilal hospital in Shebin, but I do not trust them there. I like it here. Doctors come in to check up on me all night, but over there they just leave you to rot, he alleges. Hassan has to take time off work when he gets his vomiting bouts. Sometimes, they deduct some of my pay, sometimes they dont. It depends on the health insurance.
Kamel Mohamed, 59, is also reeling from the exorbitant costs. He works at the Tala railroad booth, and came here four days ago after he began vomiting blood. I used to get stomachaches. Thats all I had. I have undergone four or five operations. They tell me it is all the effect of bilharzia, but I was cured from that as a child. I took the injections. Now they want me to pay LE 2,000. Look, heres the bill, he says, showing it to us. El-Tabbakh says he is HVC positive as well.
Despite the excellent care they receive, most patients at the clinic are too far gone to care much about treating HCV. They have to deal with the more dangerous end-of-the-road effects. Most of our patients have C virus. But they come to us when its too late to try to cure the virus with Interferon. They are mostly end patients who have been suffering from HCV for 20 or 30 years. They have liver cirrhosis and are vomiting blood. We have to work on the symptoms, try to stop the vomiting, says El-Tabbakh.
As for the disease itself, many, like Qunsowa, brush HCV off as a ridiculously weak virus. It is easily destroyed at temperatures of 60 C to 100 C. Only 50 percent of the patients will develop chronic liver conditions, which will turn into cirrhosis in 20 years or more. People should not worry; it is not dangerous. Like any virus, it can be overcome if the immune system is strong. This is why the mental and psychological condition of the patient is of the utmost importance. When a patient discovers he has C, he gets scared, and is barely able to walk, so the virus overtakes his body. We are a religious people. We know that it is only in 20 or 30 years that the virus can do anything to us, and we know that God will take us whenever he deems it suitable. So why worry?
Qunsowa goes on to relate a favorite example, the case of his farmer relative who came asking for him at the center. I examined him, and discovered he had a lump as big as an orange on his liver. It was too big to operate on, there was nothing anyone could do. So I told him he was fine, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. He went home, and was strong enough to plant his land for three whole years. It shows you how the psychological condition is the most important thing.
Soft-spoken and quiet, Dr. Alaa Eddin Ismail agrees. The dean at the NHTMRI simply cautions that panic does no one any good. HCV is not the end of the world. It does not affect the quality of life of a patient except in its end stages. If we take care of ourselves, of what we eat, how we live, if we take vacations, try to relax, we can beat the disease, Ismail advises.
According to Ismail, calmness is the only way to deal with HCV. Not all patients need treatment. One third of the patients exhibit normal liver enzymes and only need to take anti-oxidants and a lot of rest. Another third of the patients have already reached the stage of cirrhosis and bleeding vomit. It is too late to give them treatment for HCV. You work on the symptoms. So only one third will need the interferon and ribavirin [an orally administered nucleoside that has activity against a broad spectrum of viruses] cocktail, and only if they are fit to take them. These amount to 15 percent of all the patients suffering from HCV. They are the ones who need the much-talked about treatment, he says.
Although only 50 percent of this 15 percent will respond to the treatment, Ismail believes this to be the only one available to patients. Interferon and ribavirin are the only FDA-approved treatments for HCV. In Egypt, the ministry pays the full amount of money to patients eligible for the treatment. But we only give out the normal interferon, not the long acting sort, which costs LE 12,000 per course. The 7 percent difference in efficiency is negligible, he concludes.
But while some may dismiss the virus itself as negligible, it is significantly widespread, and theres no contesting the figures: The WHO puts the number of HCV-infected Egyptians at 15 to 20 percent according to a 1999 study, and researchers agree Egypt ranks very high on the list of countries where the virus is endemic. Some of the doctors we spoke to believe the incidence of HCV infection in some areas of the Delta is over 50 percent. And these figures are supported by a Lombardi Cancer Center study published in 2001 that states, In Egypt, hepatitis C affects up to half the population of rural areas.
And while the virus in its early forms can easily be overcome, it can also be potentially dangerous, with some of the patients eventually developing cirrhosis and/or cancer.
Journalist Mesbah Qutb once had a very empowering dream: I was in an iron cage. I was incarcerated and confined, but then the doors of the cage opened. I was free and light, and I flew in the sky, he remembers. A few days later, he tested negative for HCV after receiving 70 shots of Interferon. The dream, he believed then, was a sign that the virus holding him in its clutches was about to let him go. But a few months later, he suffered a relapse, and tested positive for the virus. Today, 14 years later and a few weeks after his arrival from Birmingham where he received a full liver transplant, Qutb is still suffering from HCV, a case that threatens his already fragile system and his new liver.
Qutb, who has been following HCV news closely, remembers a study published by the late Dr. Yassin Abdel Ghaffar (the father of hepatology in Egypt and the founder of the National Liver Center in Monoufia) that claimed HCV was highly prevalent in Egypt. And I believe it, Qutb says. Back when his case could have been improved by a partial liver transplant from a living donor, a number of Qutbs friends and close relatives volunteered to help and underwent a series of suitability tests.
There were around 10 of them, and five or six tested positive for HCV. I never told them, though. What would have been the point? I would only have hurt their feelings. There is no cure for this disease.
Qutb has been suffering from a combination of liver diseases since 1986, when he started vomiting blood for the first time. And that first bout did not come as a surprise to the journalist. Many of my friends died of liver diseases, he says. The blame, researchers assume, lies at the door of tartar-emetic injections given widely to residents of rural areas in the 1960s and 1970s to cure farmers of what was then believed to be the number one disease in Egypt: bilharzia.
Hundreds of young and old people queued up to get the injections. There was barely enough time to boil the glass syringes they used then, Qutb remembers. According to the Lombardi research, the explosion of HCV from confined outbreaks to a global pandemic did not occur until the 1940s, and seems to have been the result of the introduction of Western medical procedures, particularly blood transfusion and the use of the hypodermic syringe. The WHO-sponsored programs of inoculation and vaccination across broad swathes of the developing world routinely employed shared needle implementation. Millions of people were infected in this way. It is now apparent that such vaccination programmes are by far the most significant factor in the proliferation of HCV in global terms, the study points out.
As for Egypt, the bilharzia campaign dealt a fatal blow: Egypts mass campaigns of the 1960s and 1970s may represent the worlds largest iatrogenic [physician-induced] transmission of blood-borne pathogens, a according to a 2000 report by the WHO.
While scores were affected, HCV was not explicitly identified until 1989, when patients began displaying symptoms. Blood tests were not even available until 1991.
In 1987, a few years before the outbreak, Dr. Yassin Abdel Ghaffar built the first liver center in Monoufia, one of the most important and efficient centers around the Middle East. Dr. Yassin wanted to build a state-of-the-art center in his hometown, in the middle of the Delta where liver problems are prevalent. The aim was to help in introducing preventive measures. And of course, he also wanted to introduce liver transplants, Qunsowa recalls.
In 1991, the center carried out its first liver transplant operation. Dr. Nagui Habib from England transplanted a part of a liver from a living patient to a child. It was a huge success. Mohammed came off the ventilators soon after the operation, and nobody believed he had undergone a liver transplant until they examined him using ultrasound and Doppler. But the boy contracted HCV from all the blood transfused to him, and died eight months later, Qunsowa remembers.
At the time, highly sensitive modern PCR blood detection kits used to screen the virus were not available in Egypt. But after Mohammed died, the kits were imported, and the center (and later all Egyptian hospitals) started screening every blood bag. We realized the problem was a big one. But no one can really tell how big, says Qunsowa. The problem is no large-scale study was ever carried out by any organization, be it national or international. You have to choose a representative sample, at least 0.1 percent of the population. Thats 70,000 people. One PCR test costs LE 70. A number of other tests have to be carried out as well. The cost is prohibitive. But I can safely tell you that HCV is responsible for 50 percent of liver diseases in Egypt. You cannot easily find an intact liver in Egypt.
The Official Word
Dr. Amr Qandil is the director of the Infection Control Program at the Ministry of Health. The programs goal is to put a stop to patients getting infected with new diseases on admission to public hospitals. Today we are considered a model for the countries of the Middle East. No really, its not a joke. It is the WHO which says so, not us, Dr. Qandil says.
Qandil is not concerned about HCV. We are considered to have high rates. But the WHO figures of 15 to 20 percent are wrong, he alleges. We are the only organization carrying out patient surveys. Where would they get their figures from? Our rates are at only 7 to 8 percent. Thats not very high. And HCV is not dangerous. HBV is much more dangerous, and we very low rates of it, he claims.
While he has no way of knowing exactly how many people are HCV-positive, Qunsowa can only safely say that the spread of the virus cannot be ignored. Lets just say its a lot. Lets say Egypt and India top the list. But my figures here at the center will not do anybody any good. All the patients who come here have HCV and other liver problems. We are not representative, he says
Qandil is proud of his part in trying to bring down the figures. He praises the system set up by the ministry to screen every blood bag, and is also proud of his department, the ICP, which has been successfully implemented in 70 hospitals around Egypt. That is not to say that two years ago no infection control took place. But there was no staff available whose only job was to control sterilization and stop infection. Today, there is an ICP staff member in every department in the 70 hospitals within the program, he says.
According to Qandil, HCV can only be controlled through educating the people. HCV is transmitted only via the blood. People should not share toothbrushes, shaving machines, or any equipment used close to the skin. This is the only route to control, he says.
Ismail agrees. He sees hundreds of patients suffering from HCV every day and believes their misconceptions about the disease are probably the biggest problem the nation faces. Women come asking me whether they should get a divorce from their HCV-positive husbands. I tell them no. HCV is not transmitted through semen or through saliva. Couples have to make sure there are no wounds or inflammation, thats all. Neither is the disease transferred from a mother to a fetus. It is not transferred through a mothers milk either, unless her nipple is chapped and the baby has a gash in its gums, he says.
At the liver center El-Tabbakh tells us of the appalling lack of awareness of the disease. He introduces us to one patient who promptly announces he does not have HCV.
He does have HCV, by the way, El-Tabbakh tells us later, but his family does not know, so he wont admit it. Because of all the media hype, families do not understand how HCV is transmitted, and are afraid when someone in the family contracts it. They do not know whether they should touch him or even go near him, he says.
Magic Cures
Not only are people unaware of the nature of the disease, they are easily duped into believing there are magic cures for HCV. In fact, not a month passes without some news appearing in the media about a new cure for HCV. A few months ago it was pigeons. A doctor declared he could cure HCV by placing a live pigeon on the patients skin just above the liver. The pigeon promptly died after being tied to the patient for a couple of hours. The doctor then cheered and announced that the pigeon had absorbed the disease. When Ministry of Health officials attended one of his procedures, they found that he broke the pigeons neck before tying it to the patient. The pigeons were dying of asphyxiation.
Another dream cure that was also all the rage last year was camel urine. A veterinarian announced that she was able to successfully cure HCV using the urine of a suckling camel mixed with milk from the mother camel. It wasnt long before that theory, too, disappeared into oblivion.
Although Qunsowa laughingly brushes aside most of these medical hoaxes, he is reluctant to say anything negative about the camel cure. After all, it is based on a hadith by the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH). Lets not go near the Prophet, he says.
Quacks and swindlers aside, some are experimenting with alternative HCV therapy. Dr. Hosni Salama, professor of hepatology at Cairo University, has gone back to the ancients for inspiration. The ancient Egyptians used to bury patients in hot sand. Heat, a temperature of 40C, is a signal for all the bodys natural immunity cells to wake up and work efficiently, he says.
Interferon, according to Salama, boosts immunity. Only 20 percent of patients need it, and because of the prohibitive price, only 3 or 4 percent of these can afford it. And it is not very efficient despite it being the only treatment available, he explains. This is where thermotherapy comes in. Three years ago, we carried out an experiment in cooperation with an Italian team of doctors. We obtained the consent of 22 patients, and we raised their blood temperature to 41 or 42C for one hour. After a few weeks of treatment, 16 of the 22 patients were found to be completely free of HCV, he states.
Unfortunately, this kind of therapy is still in the very early stages of experimentation, and has not since been replicated in Egypt. Furthermore, not all patients with HCV can withstand the treatment. Patients with epilepsy, for example, cannot take it. But thankfully none of our 22 patients suffered any side-effects, Hosni says. So maybe it is a cure for the future.
Herbal remedy, on the other hand, has been tried and tested for thousands of years. Dr. Nabil Riyad, a surgeon who lived in Kuwait for 30 years where he taught medicine at Kuwait University, was won over from classical medicine a decade ago. When faced with a new idea, some people reject it, then explore it, and then they accept it. I have gone through all three stages. I have been exposed to the benefits of herbal medicine, and know that we should try to remove chemicals from our lives, and go back to natural medicines that have been curing humans for thousands of years, he claims.
Working in his center in Heliopolis, Riyad is currently seeing about 100 patients with HCV, and declares that he has achieved success in a little over 90 percent of the cases, minus the side effects and for life. But despite the triumph, Riyad has had to deal with a lot of resistance and red tape at the Ministry of Health.
I have applied to the ministry to allow me to produce around six products, but only one has been approved so far. They wouldnt allow me to import any either. They have no idea what is going on in the advanced world. The WHO is strongly advising that developing countries go back to alternative medicine. But of course pharmaceutical companies fight this severely, Riyad claims.
The protocol of treatment Riyad follows is an internationally recognized one. We aim at first lowering and stabilizing the viral load in the liver cells, then we control liver cell inflammation to normalize liver functions, then we regulate the immunity through boosters which stimulate the patients own immune systems to overcome the viral activities. And finally, we treat hepatitis-related complications like fatigue, insomnia, joint pain, skin rashes, bleeding, ascites, edema, diarrhea, nausea and vomiting, he explains.
The anti-viral herbal medicines Riyad uses include glycyrrhizin (licorice root powder), which induces the production of natural interferon, protects and heals the liver cells from damage, and also acts as an anti-allergic, anti-inflammatory and detoxifying element. Other virostatics include olivessence capsules (olive leaf extract), which interfere with the specific amino acid production processes vital for the life cycle of the virus. They also interfere with viral invasion by inactivating the virus and prohibiting its shedding, budding or assembly at the cell membrane.
Herbs used to cure liver cell inflammation include Schizandra fructus (its synthetic analogue is the DDB, the famous yellow pill), which rapidly reduces liver enzymes and improves liver cell function. Other herbs include ligustrin and dandelion root.
Immune stimulators include Cordyceps sinensis (caterpillar mushroom), Reishi mushroom (used by Tibetan monks to keep their bodies and brains in top condition), and Astralagus membranaceus root powder. We give all these herbs in advanced form, as powder, capsule or syrup. Unfortunately, most of these are not available on the market here, so we tell the patients to try and get them from abroad. Most of them can. Saudi Arabia alone has 11 branches for one of the American companies that produce these herbs, Riyad states.
But there is also one more important benefit to herbal therapy: its relative cheapness. The cost of one year of herbal treatment is equal to half the cost of one interferon injection, says Riyad, minus the side-effects of course. The overall quality of life of the patient improves. Patients taking interferon have to suffer through continuous fever. You find none of that when taking herbal remedies, he claims. He does advise that such remedies be carried out by a certified physician. Going to the attar [herbalist] without a doctors prescription is very dangerous, he warns.
I tell Mesbah Qutb about Dr. Riyad. Would you consider taking herbal remedies? I ask him. He does not seem convinced. I see this as scientific defeat. People should go forwards, and not backwards, he opines. But Qutb has lost faith in science as well, at least in this country. In the past, my PCR tests would declare me positive in HCV alone, and sometimes in HBV alone. At yet other times I would find out I am positive in both HCV and HBV. A neighbor of mine had a PCR test, an employment requirement in many private companies nowadays. She tested positive for HCV, and the company refused to employ her. I talked to them, and asked them to take her sample to another lab. She tested negative and got the job, he says.
So how do HCV-positive patients, if indeed one does trust the results, deal with an illness that may not even be an illness, and that has no guaranteed cure?
As Qutb puts it, it is too futile to try to think about HCV. Whenever he sees one of the relatives who wanted to donate part of his liver to him, and who was tested positive for HCV, he feels he should tell him. But then I think, what for? I will only make his life more complicated. Better leave it at that.
As the cost of the only FDA-approved medication to fight hepatitis C virus rises farther out of the average patients reach, quacks and swindlers are cashing in on victims suffering. Meanwhile, some are wondering: Just how effective is HCV treatment anyway?
By Manal el-Jesri
HAMDI ALI IS three years old, and his PCR tests have shown high levels of active hepatitis C virus (HCV). His mother, a young veiled woman with Hamdis green eyes, finds it difficult to hold back the tears as she hugs her baby tightly. She has come all the way from Alexandria to the National Liver Center in Monoufia, one of the most reputable in the Middle East, to make sure the boy gets his interferon injections.
The doctor from the health insurance program in Alexandria refused to allow him the interferon injections, she tells us. He says he doesnt need it. But he does. The doctors here have been wonderful. They help us out of their own pockets. A zakat [charity] committee takes care of the bills, but the treatment is too costly.
We are all interested in this case, says Dr. Mohamed el-Tabbakh, the hepatology resident at the center. He is what we call a precious baby: His mother has had a hysterectomy. He is her only child.
At LE 1,800 per shot, interferon treatment can cost up to LE 80,000 for a 24-month course, far beyond the means of most patients in Egypt. But prohibitive cost aside, just how effective is the medication at attacking HCV?
No Pain, No Gain
Although interferon, a naturally secreted chemical that is found at low levels in patients with HCV, is currently the only approved treatment for HCV, Dr. Hatem Qunsowa, director of the Monoufia center, refuses to even consider it. It is all a matter of pharmaceutical trade. Its business. Take it from me, write my name under what I am about to say: Any medication whose success rate is 50 percent is not considered a medication. [Fifty percent of those who respond to the injections will suffer a relapse after six months.] I am a pediatrician, and when I prescribe penicillin to a child with tonsillitis, I know that the medicine will work in 90 percent of the cases. If I give Erythrosine, I know 80 percent will be cured. But until today, there exists no working cure for any virus. Viruses mutate. Take SARS, for example; it was killing off people and no one was able to stop it. Take the influenza virus. It was discovered at the beginning of the 20th century, and until now the WHO releases a new vaccine for it every year. The same applies to AIDS, the weakest virus on earth, which disappears at temperatures as low as 40 C. No, Interferon is not a medicine, he claims.
Nevertheless, Dr. Qunsowa does concede that interferon is the only approved treatment. Pharmaceutical companies call it an immune modulator. Very diplomatic, right? So we give it to the patient without knowing what it will do to the body. And you have to consider the side effects, of course. It causes a decrease in white blood cell counts, can cause immune-inflammation in the liver and blood cells, and may also cause the formation of tumors. But I cannot stop the rich from taking it if they can afford it, he says.
Dr. Qunsowa believes interferon is nothing but a dangerous game. I even said it to the minister of health once. I told him, You should ban the import of interferon. Why should only rich people be able to take it? It is much ado about nothing, so just ban it.
Dr. Omran El-Bishlawi, the senior researcher at the National Hepatology and Tropical Medicine Research Institute (NHTMRI) in Qasr El-Aini also believes interferon, can often be futile, but for reasons completely different from Qunsowas. El-Bishlawi claims there is nothing to cure in the first place.
It is a big mafia, a business mafia. HCV does not exist. They made it up to scare people and create a market for interferon. LE 80,000 per year! Ridiculous! he rages.
He takes us back to an important year in history. In 1882, Koch and Pasteur discovered viruses and microbes. Koch came up with a foolproof formula to identify the properties of a virus. You have to inject it into a living organism and watch for its effects. Why arent they able to do this with HCV? Here, look at this, he says, showing me some pictures of people infected with smallpox. This is the effect a virus has. There have to be symptoms you can see. Any virus must be studied through a clinical investigation supported by a picture, he claims.
And what is their only method of testing for HCV, he asks me. PCR, or Polymerase Chain Reaction]? Correct. Do you know what PCR is? Do you know how to make yogurt? It is the same idea, they take the blood, and add materials to it, creating a polymer chain, enlarging the DNA and RNA millions of times, and they call what they see HCV, he alleges.
The trick, El-Bishlawi continues, is that the virus is made up of the same matter as the DNA and RNA. The virus is just some impurities, simply residues of the natural processes of the death of blood cells. It is not a virus, it is viral material, he says. He believes the impurities result from frequently invading the closed circulatory system with injections. You damage the fragile cells which then die and appear as distortions in the DNA and RNA, he explains.
According to El-Bishlawi, patients undergo routine blood tests, which are required by companies in the Gulf, and then they are told they have HCV. They exhibit no symptoms, do not feel anything, but are told they have a life-threatening disease. It is a mafia that aims at draining Egyptians of their health and money. They say Egypt is the country with the highest rates of HCV in the world. They do this to make us look bad, and then make money in the process, he alleges.
And then they tell us it will cause cirrhosis and cancer in the far future. But that would be because of bilharzia, and not HCV. The most dangerous and draining health problem in Egypt is bilharzia. I come from Sharqia and have worked with my own people, the Delta peasants, for 40 years. Why did the ministry tone down its campaign against bilharzia, do you think? Its because the cure is cheap. But they have to find a way of taking back the aid they give us. The only way to do it is through the pharmaceutical companies, he offers.
Needless to say El-Bishlawi has no faith in interferon. It is a naturally existing protein that helps boost the bodys immunity. Anyone who prescribes it to patients is a criminal and must go to prison. They do not carry out tests to check if the patient is low on interferon or not. And the side effects are horrendous. They range from retinal fibrosis to bone marrow depression and severe psychological depression that may lead to suicide.
It was seven years ago that El-Bishlawi developed his theory. Since then, he has tried to approach the NHTMRI, the ministry and the liver center in Monoufia. They meet all my efforts with silence. They dont want to argue with me because they dont want the media to feel my presence. They only want their voice to be heard. How else can they sell interferon? he questions. His book, The Lies of AIDS and HCV, will be on the market in a few weeks.
A Shot in the Arm
So what, then, should those diagnosed with HCV take if not interferon, the only officially accepted medication? I ask Dr. Qunsowa this question directly, and I get a direct answer: Its none of your business what I prescribe. Readers may just go and buy it and start taking it. Interferon is the only approved treatment. Thats all I can say.
As we approach the ward we hear one of the patients shouting at the top of his voice. I have lived in Saudi Arabia for 30 years, it is only a few years ago that I came back to Egypt, and I got infected with HCV, Shebl Moussa Ghannam barks. Dr. El-Tabbakh whispers to us that this is not the case. Ghannams is an end case. He must have had HCV for at least 10 years. He has cirrhosis and blood vomiting, he tells us.
In the opposite bed, Mahmoud Abdel Hamid Hassan, 47, winces with pain. Hassan is a secondary school teacher from Samannod. I was vomiting blood so badly last night I almost died. But they were able to rescue me, God bless them, he tells us. Hassan has seven children, and is paid a monthly salary of LE 221. Every time he needs injections, he pays LE 200, which he borrows from friends. The health insurance program has referred me to El-Hilal hospital in Shebin, but I do not trust them there. I like it here. Doctors come in to check up on me all night, but over there they just leave you to rot, he alleges. Hassan has to take time off work when he gets his vomiting bouts. Sometimes, they deduct some of my pay, sometimes they dont. It depends on the health insurance.
Kamel Mohamed, 59, is also reeling from the exorbitant costs. He works at the Tala railroad booth, and came here four days ago after he began vomiting blood. I used to get stomachaches. Thats all I had. I have undergone four or five operations. They tell me it is all the effect of bilharzia, but I was cured from that as a child. I took the injections. Now they want me to pay LE 2,000. Look, heres the bill, he says, showing it to us. El-Tabbakh says he is HVC positive as well.
Despite the excellent care they receive, most patients at the clinic are too far gone to care much about treating HCV. They have to deal with the more dangerous end-of-the-road effects. Most of our patients have C virus. But they come to us when its too late to try to cure the virus with Interferon. They are mostly end patients who have been suffering from HCV for 20 or 30 years. They have liver cirrhosis and are vomiting blood. We have to work on the symptoms, try to stop the vomiting, says El-Tabbakh.
As for the disease itself, many, like Qunsowa, brush HCV off as a ridiculously weak virus. It is easily destroyed at temperatures of 60 C to 100 C. Only 50 percent of the patients will develop chronic liver conditions, which will turn into cirrhosis in 20 years or more. People should not worry; it is not dangerous. Like any virus, it can be overcome if the immune system is strong. This is why the mental and psychological condition of the patient is of the utmost importance. When a patient discovers he has C, he gets scared, and is barely able to walk, so the virus overtakes his body. We are a religious people. We know that it is only in 20 or 30 years that the virus can do anything to us, and we know that God will take us whenever he deems it suitable. So why worry?
Qunsowa goes on to relate a favorite example, the case of his farmer relative who came asking for him at the center. I examined him, and discovered he had a lump as big as an orange on his liver. It was too big to operate on, there was nothing anyone could do. So I told him he was fine, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. He went home, and was strong enough to plant his land for three whole years. It shows you how the psychological condition is the most important thing.
Soft-spoken and quiet, Dr. Alaa Eddin Ismail agrees. The dean at the NHTMRI simply cautions that panic does no one any good. HCV is not the end of the world. It does not affect the quality of life of a patient except in its end stages. If we take care of ourselves, of what we eat, how we live, if we take vacations, try to relax, we can beat the disease, Ismail advises.
According to Ismail, calmness is the only way to deal with HCV. Not all patients need treatment. One third of the patients exhibit normal liver enzymes and only need to take anti-oxidants and a lot of rest. Another third of the patients have already reached the stage of cirrhosis and bleeding vomit. It is too late to give them treatment for HCV. You work on the symptoms. So only one third will need the interferon and ribavirin [an orally administered nucleoside that has activity against a broad spectrum of viruses] cocktail, and only if they are fit to take them. These amount to 15 percent of all the patients suffering from HCV. They are the ones who need the much-talked about treatment, he says.
Although only 50 percent of this 15 percent will respond to the treatment, Ismail believes this to be the only one available to patients. Interferon and ribavirin are the only FDA-approved treatments for HCV. In Egypt, the ministry pays the full amount of money to patients eligible for the treatment. But we only give out the normal interferon, not the long acting sort, which costs LE 12,000 per course. The 7 percent difference in efficiency is negligible, he concludes.
But while some may dismiss the virus itself as negligible, it is significantly widespread, and theres no contesting the figures: The WHO puts the number of HCV-infected Egyptians at 15 to 20 percent according to a 1999 study, and researchers agree Egypt ranks very high on the list of countries where the virus is endemic. Some of the doctors we spoke to believe the incidence of HCV infection in some areas of the Delta is over 50 percent. And these figures are supported by a Lombardi Cancer Center study published in 2001 that states, In Egypt, hepatitis C affects up to half the population of rural areas.
And while the virus in its early forms can easily be overcome, it can also be potentially dangerous, with some of the patients eventually developing cirrhosis and/or cancer.
Journalist Mesbah Qutb once had a very empowering dream: I was in an iron cage. I was incarcerated and confined, but then the doors of the cage opened. I was free and light, and I flew in the sky, he remembers. A few days later, he tested negative for HCV after receiving 70 shots of Interferon. The dream, he believed then, was a sign that the virus holding him in its clutches was about to let him go. But a few months later, he suffered a relapse, and tested positive for the virus. Today, 14 years later and a few weeks after his arrival from Birmingham where he received a full liver transplant, Qutb is still suffering from HCV, a case that threatens his already fragile system and his new liver.
Qutb, who has been following HCV news closely, remembers a study published by the late Dr. Yassin Abdel Ghaffar (the father of hepatology in Egypt and the founder of the National Liver Center in Monoufia) that claimed HCV was highly prevalent in Egypt. And I believe it, Qutb says. Back when his case could have been improved by a partial liver transplant from a living donor, a number of Qutbs friends and close relatives volunteered to help and underwent a series of suitability tests.
There were around 10 of them, and five or six tested positive for HCV. I never told them, though. What would have been the point? I would only have hurt their feelings. There is no cure for this disease.
Qutb has been suffering from a combination of liver diseases since 1986, when he started vomiting blood for the first time. And that first bout did not come as a surprise to the journalist. Many of my friends died of liver diseases, he says. The blame, researchers assume, lies at the door of tartar-emetic injections given widely to residents of rural areas in the 1960s and 1970s to cure farmers of what was then believed to be the number one disease in Egypt: bilharzia.
Hundreds of young and old people queued up to get the injections. There was barely enough time to boil the glass syringes they used then, Qutb remembers. According to the Lombardi research, the explosion of HCV from confined outbreaks to a global pandemic did not occur until the 1940s, and seems to have been the result of the introduction of Western medical procedures, particularly blood transfusion and the use of the hypodermic syringe. The WHO-sponsored programs of inoculation and vaccination across broad swathes of the developing world routinely employed shared needle implementation. Millions of people were infected in this way. It is now apparent that such vaccination programmes are by far the most significant factor in the proliferation of HCV in global terms, the study points out.
As for Egypt, the bilharzia campaign dealt a fatal blow: Egypts mass campaigns of the 1960s and 1970s may represent the worlds largest iatrogenic [physician-induced] transmission of blood-borne pathogens, a according to a 2000 report by the WHO.
While scores were affected, HCV was not explicitly identified until 1989, when patients began displaying symptoms. Blood tests were not even available until 1991.
In 1987, a few years before the outbreak, Dr. Yassin Abdel Ghaffar built the first liver center in Monoufia, one of the most important and efficient centers around the Middle East. Dr. Yassin wanted to build a state-of-the-art center in his hometown, in the middle of the Delta where liver problems are prevalent. The aim was to help in introducing preventive measures. And of course, he also wanted to introduce liver transplants, Qunsowa recalls.
In 1991, the center carried out its first liver transplant operation. Dr. Nagui Habib from England transplanted a part of a liver from a living patient to a child. It was a huge success. Mohammed came off the ventilators soon after the operation, and nobody believed he had undergone a liver transplant until they examined him using ultrasound and Doppler. But the boy contracted HCV from all the blood transfused to him, and died eight months later, Qunsowa remembers.
At the time, highly sensitive modern PCR blood detection kits used to screen the virus were not available in Egypt. But after Mohammed died, the kits were imported, and the center (and later all Egyptian hospitals) started screening every blood bag. We realized the problem was a big one. But no one can really tell how big, says Qunsowa. The problem is no large-scale study was ever carried out by any organization, be it national or international. You have to choose a representative sample, at least 0.1 percent of the population. Thats 70,000 people. One PCR test costs LE 70. A number of other tests have to be carried out as well. The cost is prohibitive. But I can safely tell you that HCV is responsible for 50 percent of liver diseases in Egypt. You cannot easily find an intact liver in Egypt.
The Official Word
Dr. Amr Qandil is the director of the Infection Control Program at the Ministry of Health. The programs goal is to put a stop to patients getting infected with new diseases on admission to public hospitals. Today we are considered a model for the countries of the Middle East. No really, its not a joke. It is the WHO which says so, not us, Dr. Qandil says.
Qandil is not concerned about HCV. We are considered to have high rates. But the WHO figures of 15 to 20 percent are wrong, he alleges. We are the only organization carrying out patient surveys. Where would they get their figures from? Our rates are at only 7 to 8 percent. Thats not very high. And HCV is not dangerous. HBV is much more dangerous, and we very low rates of it, he claims.
While he has no way of knowing exactly how many people are HCV-positive, Qunsowa can only safely say that the spread of the virus cannot be ignored. Lets just say its a lot. Lets say Egypt and India top the list. But my figures here at the center will not do anybody any good. All the patients who come here have HCV and other liver problems. We are not representative, he says
Qandil is proud of his part in trying to bring down the figures. He praises the system set up by the ministry to screen every blood bag, and is also proud of his department, the ICP, which has been successfully implemented in 70 hospitals around Egypt. That is not to say that two years ago no infection control took place. But there was no staff available whose only job was to control sterilization and stop infection. Today, there is an ICP staff member in every department in the 70 hospitals within the program, he says.
According to Qandil, HCV can only be controlled through educating the people. HCV is transmitted only via the blood. People should not share toothbrushes, shaving machines, or any equipment used close to the skin. This is the only route to control, he says.
Ismail agrees. He sees hundreds of patients suffering from HCV every day and believes their misconceptions about the disease are probably the biggest problem the nation faces. Women come asking me whether they should get a divorce from their HCV-positive husbands. I tell them no. HCV is not transmitted through semen or through saliva. Couples have to make sure there are no wounds or inflammation, thats all. Neither is the disease transferred from a mother to a fetus. It is not transferred through a mothers milk either, unless her nipple is chapped and the baby has a gash in its gums, he says.
At the liver center El-Tabbakh tells us of the appalling lack of awareness of the disease. He introduces us to one patient who promptly announces he does not have HCV.
He does have HCV, by the way, El-Tabbakh tells us later, but his family does not know, so he wont admit it. Because of all the media hype, families do not understand how HCV is transmitted, and are afraid when someone in the family contracts it. They do not know whether they should touch him or even go near him, he says.
Magic Cures
Not only are people unaware of the nature of the disease, they are easily duped into believing there are magic cures for HCV. In fact, not a month passes without some news appearing in the media about a new cure for HCV. A few months ago it was pigeons. A doctor declared he could cure HCV by placing a live pigeon on the patients skin just above the liver. The pigeon promptly died after being tied to the patient for a couple of hours. The doctor then cheered and announced that the pigeon had absorbed the disease. When Ministry of Health officials attended one of his procedures, they found that he broke the pigeons neck before tying it to the patient. The pigeons were dying of asphyxiation.
Another dream cure that was also all the rage last year was camel urine. A veterinarian announced that she was able to successfully cure HCV using the urine of a suckling camel mixed with milk from the mother camel. It wasnt long before that theory, too, disappeared into oblivion.
Although Qunsowa laughingly brushes aside most of these medical hoaxes, he is reluctant to say anything negative about the camel cure. After all, it is based on a hadith by the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH). Lets not go near the Prophet, he says.
Quacks and swindlers aside, some are experimenting with alternative HCV therapy. Dr. Hosni Salama, professor of hepatology at Cairo University, has gone back to the ancients for inspiration. The ancient Egyptians used to bury patients in hot sand. Heat, a temperature of 40C, is a signal for all the bodys natural immunity cells to wake up and work efficiently, he says.
Interferon, according to Salama, boosts immunity. Only 20 percent of patients need it, and because of the prohibitive price, only 3 or 4 percent of these can afford it. And it is not very efficient despite it being the only treatment available, he explains. This is where thermotherapy comes in. Three years ago, we carried out an experiment in cooperation with an Italian team of doctors. We obtained the consent of 22 patients, and we raised their blood temperature to 41 or 42C for one hour. After a few weeks of treatment, 16 of the 22 patients were found to be completely free of HCV, he states.
Unfortunately, this kind of therapy is still in the very early stages of experimentation, and has not since been replicated in Egypt. Furthermore, not all patients with HCV can withstand the treatment. Patients with epilepsy, for example, cannot take it. But thankfully none of our 22 patients suffered any side-effects, Hosni says. So maybe it is a cure for the future.
Herbal remedy, on the other hand, has been tried and tested for thousands of years. Dr. Nabil Riyad, a surgeon who lived in Kuwait for 30 years where he taught medicine at Kuwait University, was won over from classical medicine a decade ago. When faced with a new idea, some people reject it, then explore it, and then they accept it. I have gone through all three stages. I have been exposed to the benefits of herbal medicine, and know that we should try to remove chemicals from our lives, and go back to natural medicines that have been curing humans for thousands of years, he claims.
Working in his center in Heliopolis, Riyad is currently seeing about 100 patients with HCV, and declares that he has achieved success in a little over 90 percent of the cases, minus the side effects and for life. But despite the triumph, Riyad has had to deal with a lot of resistance and red tape at the Ministry of Health.
I have applied to the ministry to allow me to produce around six products, but only one has been approved so far. They wouldnt allow me to import any either. They have no idea what is going on in the advanced world. The WHO is strongly advising that developing countries go back to alternative medicine. But of course pharmaceutical companies fight this severely, Riyad claims.
The protocol of treatment Riyad follows is an internationally recognized one. We aim at first lowering and stabilizing the viral load in the liver cells, then we control liver cell inflammation to normalize liver functions, then we regulate the immunity through boosters which stimulate the patients own immune systems to overcome the viral activities. And finally, we treat hepatitis-related complications like fatigue, insomnia, joint pain, skin rashes, bleeding, ascites, edema, diarrhea, nausea and vomiting, he explains.
The anti-viral herbal medicines Riyad uses include glycyrrhizin (licorice root powder), which induces the production of natural interferon, protects and heals the liver cells from damage, and also acts as an anti-allergic, anti-inflammatory and detoxifying element. Other virostatics include olivessence capsules (olive leaf extract), which interfere with the specific amino acid production processes vital for the life cycle of the virus. They also interfere with viral invasion by inactivating the virus and prohibiting its shedding, budding or assembly at the cell membrane.
Herbs used to cure liver cell inflammation include Schizandra fructus (its synthetic analogue is the DDB, the famous yellow pill), which rapidly reduces liver enzymes and improves liver cell function. Other herbs include ligustrin and dandelion root.
Immune stimulators include Cordyceps sinensis (caterpillar mushroom), Reishi mushroom (used by Tibetan monks to keep their bodies and brains in top condition), and Astralagus membranaceus root powder. We give all these herbs in advanced form, as powder, capsule or syrup. Unfortunately, most of these are not available on the market here, so we tell the patients to try and get them from abroad. Most of them can. Saudi Arabia alone has 11 branches for one of the American companies that produce these herbs, Riyad states.
But there is also one more important benefit to herbal therapy: its relative cheapness. The cost of one year of herbal treatment is equal to half the cost of one interferon injection, says Riyad, minus the side-effects of course. The overall quality of life of the patient improves. Patients taking interferon have to suffer through continuous fever. You find none of that when taking herbal remedies, he claims. He does advise that such remedies be carried out by a certified physician. Going to the attar [herbalist] without a doctors prescription is very dangerous, he warns.
I tell Mesbah Qutb about Dr. Riyad. Would you consider taking herbal remedies? I ask him. He does not seem convinced. I see this as scientific defeat. People should go forwards, and not backwards, he opines. But Qutb has lost faith in science as well, at least in this country. In the past, my PCR tests would declare me positive in HCV alone, and sometimes in HBV alone. At yet other times I would find out I am positive in both HCV and HBV. A neighbor of mine had a PCR test, an employment requirement in many private companies nowadays. She tested positive for HCV, and the company refused to employ her. I talked to them, and asked them to take her sample to another lab. She tested negative and got the job, he says.
So how do HCV-positive patients, if indeed one does trust the results, deal with an illness that may not even be an illness, and that has no guaranteed cure?
As Qutb puts it, it is too futile to try to think about HCV. Whenever he sees one of the relatives who wanted to donate part of his liver to him, and who was tested positive for HCV, he feels he should tell him. But then I think, what for? I will only make his life more complicated. Better leave it at that.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Pride of Place
June 2007
Pride of Place
At least 70,000 Egyptians are literally card-carrying descendants of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and his family. Senior Writer Manal el-Jesri goes inside the society that certifies their belonging to Al-Ashraaf and wonders: Is this branch of a family that is as ancient as the Holy Qur’an ready to deal with a new Saudi society and the rise of DNA testing?More than social and religious prestige are at stake: Did the Prophet himself not say that the Mahdi who will bring peace to Earth after much war and destruction would be “from my family, from the sons of Fatima”?
By Manal el-Jesri
Sheikh Mohamed Hammad, the imam of Al-Rifaii Mosque, recently had a ru’ya (a divine dream). He’s reluctant to talk about it and becomes a little shy when pressed, but it was this ru’ya that prompted him to start investigating his family’s lineage, setting him off on a journey that has led him to believe he is a descendant of Prophet Muhammad, God’s peace and prayers be upon him.
“A sheikh once told me that if someone dreams of one of the Prophet’s family, and especially if the dream is of a female not wearing a veil, it means he is a mahrim [a male relative],” Sheikh Hammad says. It was the great Sayyeda Zeinab that he dreamt of, that woman so beloved of Egypt’s poor — the protector of the helpless, the chief of the Diwan, Omm Hashem, the Lady Zeinab, the granddaughter of Sayyedna Muhammad, who was given her name by God Himself through His messenger, the angel Gabriel.
Sayyeda Zeinab came to Egypt in the year 61 after Hijra (AH, equivalent to the year 680 on the Julian calendar) after her brother, Sayyedna Al-Hussein, was murdered in the battle of Karbalaa by the legions of the new Umayyad Caliph Al-Yazid I. She died and was buried in Cairo, where an entire district was named in her honor. To this day, the Mosque of Sayyeda Zeinab is a popular destination for Egyptians, poor and rich, in need of succor.
Sayyeda Zeinab’s journey to Egypt showed the Prophet’s other grandchildren and relatives that Egypt would be a safe haven for them in times of need. She had brought her nephews and nieces with her, the sons and daughters of her deceased brothers Al-Hussein and Al-Hassan, and their descendants are those who live among us today as Al-Ashraaf.
At turns feared and persecuted by those in power because of the boundless love and respect the family attracts from the masses, there are now some 70,000 officially recognized families in Egypt who can trace their lineage back to the Prophet and his descendants. While estimates of the number of descendants yet to be registered varies widely depending on which authority you ask, nassaaba (lineage expert, singular and plural) at the nation’s centuries-old Niqabat Al-Ashraaf (Al-Ashraaf Syndicate) diligently sift through stacks of documents and process paperwork to verify who will be recognized as a member of Al-Ashraaf and who will not. Canvassing the entire nation for the family of the Prophet — who died some 1,400 years ago in 632 AH (1234 AD) — is no easy feat, with today’s nassaaba obliged to depend on documents — not just family histories passed down in the oral tradition — to verify lineage.
Although the largest concentration of officially recognized Al-Ashraaf can be found in Cairo and Upper Egypt, disagreements over matrilineal descent and how an application to be recognized as a Shareef is investigated has led Al-Ashraaf scattered across the Arab world to subtly begin questioning the Egyptian syndicate’s credibility. In April, a new Al-Ashraaf association launched in Saudi Arabia, claiming it will certify applicants’ status as Al-Ashraaf using more modern, scientific methodologies — including, perhaps, DNA testing.
For applicants, though, certification as a Shareef is about far more than a piece of paper on the wall.
At the Syndicate
Sheikh Hammad hopes to receive his certificate after the lineage verification committee finishes its investigations. That committee is at the heart of Niqabat Al-Ashraaf on Salah Salem Road. The architecture of the syndicate’s opulent headquarters is Islamic-chic. Ornamental marble covers the outside of the building, the interior of which is furnished in arabesque wood. Carved brass adorns most walls, and the main hall underneath the dome has a magnificent brass and colored glass chandelier.
Sitting behind his desk is Ahmed Kamel Yassin, a retired general now known as Al-Naqeeb (the head of the Syndicate, or Niqaba) as was his brother before him. Yassin can trace his lineage back to both Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein and, more recently, to the Imam Al-Rifaii, the beloved Sufi pole (see box), a heritage that also makes Yassin the Grand Sheikh of the Rifaii Sufi method.
The wall behind Yassin is decorated with a huge replica of the stamp of Prophet Muhammad. He looks at it lovingly when asked about it. “Al-Ashraaf are the descendants of the Messenger of God, and people cherish this lineage. They love it and protect it,” Yassin says.
In Egypt, which boasts the highest concentration of Al-Ashraaf in the world, the Niqaba — headed by Yassin, who is aided by both a board and a committee of nassaaba — has existed since the time of the Fatimid dynasty (910-1171 AD). The first naqeeb was Caliph Al-Muizz Li Din Allah in 968 AD. In his day and for centuries afterward, registering with the Niqaba was pointless, as the naqeeb personally knew all Al-Ashraaf and the idea that anyone would make a false claim never arose.
One of the most illustrious of Yassin’s predecessors was Al-Sayyed Omar Makram, who was in charge during the 1798 Bonaparte campaign against Egypt. The leader of the second Cairo revolution against the French in 1800, his religious role has been cast into the national identity.
For more than a century and a half afterward, the syndicate prospered. Then, in 1953, Al-Naqeeb Al-Sayyed Mohamed Ali El-Beblawy passed away. Gamal Abdel Nasser, the president of the time, conspicuously opted not to appoint a new one. Although the Niqaba was never traditionally associated with the state, it was President Hosni Mubarak who brought it back to life by appointing Yassin’s brother Mahmoud Kamel Yassin as Al-Naqeeb in 1991. Ahmed Kamel Yassin followed in his brother’s footsteps in 1994, also appointed by Mubarak.
(Interestingly, Ahmed Yassin was the first to bring the title of Shareef to Egypt. “It was used in other countries, but in Egypt we used the title of Al-Sayyed to refer to a descendant of the Prophet,” he explains.)
“Everything you see around you is paid for by Al-Ashraaf,” says Yassin. “We receive no support from the Ministry of Awqaf [Religious Endowments]. In the past, Al-Ashraaf themselves had awqaf, profits coming from agricultural land, for example, that helped support the poorer family members. The reason for the existence of the awqaf was because a Shareef is not allowed to accept charity, but can accept help from another Shareef. They are cousins, after all. When I became naqeeb, a young Shareef had an accident. He became paralyzed, and had no source of income. I decided to establish a fund for Al-Ashraaf. The rich members of the syndicate pay into it, and the revenue goes to the poorer members. We also send members to Hajj and celebrate the major religious events and holidays at our assembly hall here. It is a way for Al-Ashraaf to socialize and get to know each other.
“We are all members of the same family, you know,” he says.
It is a distinction shared by some 70,000 individually registered families in Egypt. “It will take us 10 to 15 years to register all the members of Al-Ashraaf. We are close to 5 or 6 million in Egypt,” Yassin says.
Although some members of Al-Ashraaf believe this figure is too high, Yassin insists millions of Al-Ashraaf are yet to be registered. “When Sayyeda Zeinab first came to Egypt, tens of her relatives came with her,” he notes. “The tens gave birth to hundreds, who later gave birth to thousands, and so on. It’s been 1,400 years. The figure of millions is not a strange one.”
To reach all Al-Ashraaf, Yassin adds, “I have set up tertiary syndicates in every governorate, in some cases even in towns, especially in Upper Egypt. It is where most of Al-Ashraaf are concentrated.” According to Yassin, the syndicate is certifying up to 1,000 new members every month.
Despite the staggering number of certificates being doled out, verifying a family’s lineage is no simple matter, Yassin continues. “Some people hold on to their family trees. These are very long parchments which they wrap and put in a tin box, kept safely in the hands of the oldest member of the family. Then there are books about lineage, and next come the keepers, those who memorize the lineage of a family. We have a register here dating back 150 years ago, with the names of all Al-Ashraaf whose lineage has been verified,” he says.
The Keeper
Elsewhere in the Niqabat Al-Ashraaf building, Hajj Sobhi Eid sits in a room full of researchers. It is here that certificates of lineage originate: Everyone in this room is an expert on the Hashimi lineage — the lineage of the Prophet Muhammad’s tribe — but it is easy to recognize Eid as the chief expert in the room. With eyes tired from too many hours spent poring over old books and a look on his face that says, ‘Talk if you must, but I am busy, so make it quick,’ Eid is also a Shareef, one of a dying breed of keepers who can recite his own lineage back to its origin, the Prophet Himself.
“My lineage comes from my mother and my father, who are both Al-Ashraaf,” Eid says in a slow drawl, sounding as if he has not spoken for ages.
Asked about the figure of 5 million Al-Ashraaf in Egypt, the history scholar and top Syndicate investigator shakes his head in boredom. “This is not exactly accurate. Where does this figure come from when we have registered 70,000 families and are about to finish registration? We have covered all of Egypt, although this includes lineage coming from the mother and the father, which is not exactly accurate. A mother’s lineage is called butoun, that of the father is called aslaab, which is what a nassaaba should go by,” he says.
Not minding Eid’s questions on the issue, Yassin has a ready answer for the question of whether the status of Al-Ashraaf can pass through the maternal line, saying, “We are the sons of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein, the children of Fatima Al-Zahraa, the daughter of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon Him. She is our source of lineage, so how can we deny lineage to other mothers? In other countries, they even accept the lineage of Sayyeda Zeinab herself, but here in Egypt, a Shareef is a descendant of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein,” Yassin says.
Eid, though, counters that not all mothers are to be compared to Fatima Al-Zahraa, and a hadith of the Prophet Muhammad appears to give credence to his argument: “All the children of a mother are attributed to their fatherly relation except the sons of Fatima,” the Prophet said. Indeed, the Prophet loved his daughter so much that he considered Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein his own children, he loved them deeply. All three of the Prophet’s own sons died in infancy.
As a youth, Eid was attendant to his grandparents at the time of their ablutions for prayer and was taught the lineage of his own family and that of his relatives at the tender age of 12. Despite his rare proficiency in orally tracing back his lineage, Eid hesitates to talk about that approach to ansaab (lineage), saying he makes decisions on membership in Al-Ashraaf through solid evidence presented in documents and scholarly tracts.
“At home, I have about 40,000 books on ansaab. It is an exact science, and a very dangerous thing to deal with lightly,” he says. What makes it so difficult, Eid explains, is that Arabs, especially Al-Ashraaf, often share origins. “You will find that Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein meet at Fatima Al-Nabawiyya and Al-Hassan Al-Muthanna, who are cousins. If a Shareef says he is Hassani or Husseini, it makes no difference. The Messenger of God told us to recognize and remember our ansaab in order to be kind to our relatives. That is the main purpose,” he says.
Today, the memorization of lineage is still practiced among Arab tribes, be they in Upper Egypt or in other parts of the region. Lineage, after all, was the key factor in adjudicating land claims prior to Islam. With the arrival of Islam, lineage became a source of baraka, or blessing, particularly for Al-Ashraaf.
One’s nasab (singular for ansaab) was particularly important in view of the continuous migration of Al-Ashraaf, who were persecuted by leaders across the region who feared Al-Ashraaf might try to convert their immense popular support into bids for power.
After all, Eid notes, “Abdel Rahman El-Dakhel started the Arab dynasty in Andalusia. There was also Idriss, who migrated to Morocco.” (Idriss is, in fact, one of Eid’s forefathers: the nassaaba’s name ends in Idrissi.) “Idriss and his brother Suleiman migrated to North Africa. Idriss was the son of Abdullah Al-Kamel, the son of Al-Hassan Al-Muthanna, the son of Al-Imam Al-Hassan, the son of Ali ibn Abi Taleb [the cousin of the Prophet and husband of his beloved daughter, Fatima Al-Zahraa]. He founded the Idrissi dynasty in Morocco. The people of North Africa love Ahlul Bayt [the family of the Prophet], and the Berber king married off his daughter to Idriss, who bore him Mohammed and Suleiman. Mohammed later had Idriss [the true founder of the dynasty] who had 12 or 14 or 16 children,” he says.
Most of Al-Ashraaf of Morocco are Idrissis, a handful of whom would later make their way to Egypt.
Map of Love
More than 14 centuries separate the modern age from the time of the Prophet. As can be expected, tracking every member of every family that branched off from this illustrious lineage over the years is a daunting task, making it essential that a nassaaba born into the tradition of lineage tracing has a passion for his work.
“A nassaaba has to be very careful. The sources are many and varied. It could be a history book, a book about a history figure, a book about family trees, or a book about lineage. But not any book is to be trusted,” Eid warns. “You have to study something about the author and whether he wrote what he wrote for money or to leave behind a true legacy. There are authors to trust and authors to take lightly.”
Eid is currently working on a guidebook for future nassaaba with pointers on the correct methods of investigating lineage as well as tips on steering clear of common mistakes. A how-to guide for a nassaaba, if you will.
Take, for example, the common problem of parents naming their child after a revered imam such as Al-Rifaii. “This constitutes a problem because a family could later claim they are descendants of Al-Rifaii. But which Rifaii: the original one or his namesake? This is why it is dangerous, although tempting, to go by the famous names of Al-Ashraaf as the only proof of lineage,” Eid warns.
Even the lineage of some families already declared Al-Ashraaf is open to question, he suggests. Eid, one of the most meticulous experts on ansaab, recounts how things were done back during the time of the old Niqaba, before 1953.
“What they gave members was not a certificate, it was a decree of nasab, and some of those are over 200 years old. Like today, a person had to come forward with their documents and the Niqaba would send detectives to visit the person’s village or town and ask the old people about the claims of lineage. Some people were famous Al-Ashraaf, and sometimes the Niqaba depended solely on this reputation. It was not accurate enough. These days, we depend on documents and history books only. Everything must be well-documented on paper,” Eid says.
Today, many applications are turned down. Eid refuses to talk about the percentage of rejected applications, but says that the status of any nasab falls under four categories: sahih (correct), maqbul (accepted), da’if (weak) and mardud (rejected). “We never tell anyone that their documents are forged, although we have seen some forgeries. We just say that the nasab is mardud,” he says.
Magdi El-Safty, the former deputy of Naqabat Al-Ashraaf from Alexandria, discovered a number of forged family trees.
“Some families had posted their family trees on the internet, and it was very obvious that these trees were forgeries,” claims El-Safty. “I even know of a place here in Alexandria where they forge family trees. It is obvious when a tree is a forgery: You can see it in the calligraphy, the style, the ink and many other variants. I have seen so much that I can tell a forgery from an authentic document right away.”
El-Safty, an accountant by profession, worked as a deputy for the Niqaba for six years, from 1994 to 2000. “At the time I took charge, there were only 50 registered Al-Ashraaf families in Alexandria. I helped register 1,500 members,” he says. As El-Safty sees it, the Niqaba’s main job is to protect ansaab so they are not lost. Although no longer associated with the Syndicate, El-Safty maintains a website — www.alashraf.ws — funded by Kuwaiti Al-Sherif Abdullah Al-Hussein and visited by Al-Ashraaf from all over the world. El-Safty’s site is not backed by the Egypt-based Syndicate.
“For Arabs, the nasab was an important element of their identity. They kept it and recorded it. An old family’s tree would be a six or seven-meter document. When I worked at the Alexandria branch of the syndicate, I always made sure I saw the original before accepting a copy. Some families were registered with the old, pre-1953 Niqaba, and these we used to accept right away, but then some are known to be Al-Ashraaf. In the villages, people know these things. They memorize the families’ lineages,” he says.
With overpopulation, it became difficult to depend on elders’ memories. That is when forgeries started springing up, El-Safty alleges.
“In Upper Egypt, where the tribal feelings are very strong, someone would say ‘I am a Shareef,’ so another, in order to raise the status of his family or tribe, would say, ‘Well, so am I.’ Down there, it makes a huge difference in People’s Assembly elections if you are a Shareef or not. [Upper Egypt boasts the greatest concentration of Al-Ashraaf in Egypt and probably the world. A Shareef there is guaranteed success in any election.] In other cases, drug traffickers procure forged family trees to claim descent to the Prophet. It is their way of diverting attention from their illegal activities,” he says.
With Shareef such a sought-after title, El-Safty is skeptical of the notion Egypt might be home to millions of Al-Ashraaf. “This means that one of every 10 Egyptians is a Shareef. How can this be? Even the figure of 70,000 is too large. The Niqaba accepts the lineage of women, which is not accurate. I believe the true figure to be one third or a little less [of 70,000].”
Back to the Roots
Monoufiyya-born Sheikh Mohammad ibn Ali Al-Talha is the secretary-general of a new association of the descendants of the Prophet, the Mecca-based World Scientific Association of Hashimi Lineage. Al-Shareef Mohammad Al-Husseiny, a Saudi businessman and chief of the Hashimi descendants in Saudi Arabia, serves as the president of the association, which says it aims to connect Al-Ashraaf all over the world — and to weed out the false claims to the lineage.
“As you know, there have been a lot of false claims to Hashimi descent by big families. These claims are hurtful. The association will branch all over the world, with a secretary-general and deputies in every country. We hope this association will put things to rights regarding the issue of descent,” Al-Talha explains.
One way the organization plans to “put things to rights” is to base its registration on DNA testing. “A few years ago, an Egyptian doctor in the US was helping us get tested,” adds El-Safty, who is one of the three nassaaba serving as consultants to Al-Talha, explains. “The test I took was designed to prove if a person is of Adnani descent [Adnan is common ancestor of all Arabs]. But I believe it is possible to reach the DNA of Al-Ashraaf. We can get the defining sample from one of the oldest families whose descent in indisputable and then compare the tested samples to it. The Jews did this, to prove if someone is a Semite or not, and it worked for them.”
(El-Safty’s suggestion of tracing lineage through DNA has merit, but is at best a highly simplistic view of the complex science of population genetics and how it may be used to identify a person’s membership in a particular family.)
Although Al-Talha is enthusiastic about the new association, he’s not certain that all members should be subjected to a DNA test. He himself took the ‘Adnani test,’ but believes DNA testing should be optional. “It will be very awkward if old, established families were to find out that after hundreds of years of believing they are Al-Ashraaf, they discover they are regular people after all,” he says.
The new World Scientific Association, Al-Talha believes, will have more credibility than Egypt’s Niqaba, which he criticizes for having a leader who is not a lineage expert. Traditionally, naqeebs have all been nassaaba, but that has not been the case recently.
“I believe his job is not to just sign the certificate. He must be an expert, he must have a say. Some certificates have been issued that were not accurate. Our credibility, as a result, has been affected. Some people just want the certificate for prestige,” Al-Talha claims.
The association, which says it hopes to collaborate with the Syndicate, will accept members after a much stricter verification process. “The secretary general, aided by three nassaaba [including El-Safty, in the case of Egypt], will personally review every application. Our recommendation will be sent to Mecca, where further verification is to take place. The certificate will be issued in Mecca,” Al-Talha says.
There’s more at stake here than just social and religious prestige, Al-Talha warns. Exactly who is and isn’t a Shareef will one day be important in helping people accept the Mahdi, the man whose advent was promised by the Prophet Muhammad and who will bring peace to Earth after much war and destruction. The Mahdi, you see, will be a descendant of the house of Muhammad. The Prophet s “The Mahdi is from my family, from the sons of Fatima.”
Like Eid, Al-Talha believes Fatima was special: she was the Prophet’s favorite daughter, which is why matrilineal descent is only specific to her. “I believe it is wrong to include the sons and daughters of a Shareefa in the lineage. If we were to weed out all those, we can safely say there are only around 5,000 Al-Ashraaf in Egypt,” he says.
Al-Talha, an expert on ansaab, is proud to talk about his own. “Al-Talha are originally Moroccan. Our ancestor is Sayyedi Sho’eib Abu Madyan, who was a great Sufi pole during his time. He died in the year 598 AH (1201 AD). Sayyedi Talha and his father Madyan ibn Sho’eib came to Egypt in the year 603 AH (1206 AD). The governorate of Kafr El-Sheikh used to be called Kafr El-Sheikh Talha. King Fouad then changed the name to El-Fouadiyya, but after the revolution it was changed back to Kafr El-Sheikh,” Al-Talha says. “The area of Hayy El-Magharba in Jerusalem is a waqf that was awarded to our family, in addition to five villages in Palestine. The Wall of El-Buraq [also known as the Wailing Wall to the Jews, it is a holy place for Muslims because it is where the Prophet Muhammad tethered his winged steed on his night trip to Jerusalem] is part of this waqf. Dr. Ahmed Abu Madyan, a Shareef and our relative, has been considering taking the issue to the International Court of Justice, [Israel claimed the land following the 1967 War].”
Pride of Place
Al-Talha was recently in Cairo to visit the Grand Mufti of Egypt Aly Gomaa to receive a fatwa regarding the Hashimi descent, after hearing of a fatwa issued by Sheikh Abdullah bin Jibrein, one of Saudi Arabia’s most famous Wahhabi thinkers.
“Ibn Jibrein had said that there is nothing called Hashimis anymore. He also said that those who claim to be Hashimis should be able to accept charity, which was prohibited by the Prophet himself. He based his claims on the fact that the existing Hashimis are too far removed in time from the Prophet. This is ridiculous. Some people have family trees that go back to the time of Sayyedna Adam. The Mufti told me the fatwa of Ibn Jibrein is the talk of Wahhabis and he is going to write a fatwa to disclaim it,” Al-Talha says.
The insistence of Al-Ashraaf, including Al-Talha and El-Safty, on protecting their noble lineage is a good thing, but does seem rather frantic. Al-Naqeeb Yassin takes a much more relaxed approach. To him, the heritage is something to be proud of, but is nothing to obsess over.
“Al-Shareef holds no advantage over anyone else. The Prophet said there is no difference between an Arab and a foreigner except through taqwa [fear of God]. I give every Shareef who has just registered his family a booklet, in which I write this advice: ‘My brother the Shareef, by belonging to Ahlul Bayt, you must know that this does not make you any different from the rest of the people. It is an honor that is only made better through fear of God. You must model yourself on our master, the Prophet. [] You must obey God and the Prophet, pray a regularly and work, because Islam is a religion for life and the beyond.’
“It is dangerous to be overly proud of being a Shareef,” Yassin continues. “It was a real problem in Upper Egypt, because Shareefas refused to marry anyone who was not a Shareef, and as a result we had a great number of unmarried women. I have fought this habit, and I believe I have been able to change things.” et
For six years, Sheikh Mohamed Hammad was imam of Sayyeda Zeinab Mosque, witnessing the daily crowds of visitors seeking her shrine. Today the imam of Al-Rifaii Mosque, Sheikh Hammad has long pondered why it is that Egyptians, rich and poor alike, seek blessing and succor from the deceased in times of need, even though the Saudi Arabian, or Wahhabi, interpretation of Islam frowns upon the practice.
“Why do people who have money troubles go to Sayyeda Nafeesa? Why do people who are in some kind of crisis visit Sayyedna Al-Hussein? And why do people in trouble go to Sayyeda Zeinab, why do those who are feeling depressed go to Sayyeda Aisha? I have thought about this for long, but then at a celebration in the Mosque of Sayyeda Zeinab, I found myself reciting this verse: ‘They shall have all that they wish for, in the presence of their Lord: such is the reward of those who do good” (Suret Az-Zumar 39:34).’
“And then I thought, ‘But why do people have to go to their shrine to ask for their assistance, or rather their intervention, in seeking God’s help?’ The Prophet said a grave is either one of the gardens of Paradise or one of the pits of Hell. So if you stand in front of the shrine of one of these descendants, then you are at the gate of Paradise,” Hammad explains. “This is why supplication is answered by God. People have tried this, it has worked for them, this is why they keep going back.”
Although the descendants of the Prophet’s uncles are also considered Al-Ashraaf in other parts of the world, the descendants of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein are those considered the true Ahlul Bayt (Family of the Prophet). According to the Qur’an (33:33 — Suret Al-Ahzab): “And Allah only wishes to remove all abomination from you, ye members of the Family, and to make you pure and spotless.” In Sahih Muslim, one of the most accurate compilations of the Prophet’s sayings, the Prophet is quoted explaining verse 33: “The verse of purification was revealed concerning five people: myself, Ali, Hassan, Hussein and Fatima.”
This is why Egyptians are proud to say that their country is the resting place of a great number of the Prophet’s first descendants. In fact, a whole street is dedicated to the revered family. Cutting through the district of Khalifa, the street connects the mosque of Al-Sayyeda Nafeesa, the beloved of Egypt’s women, to the mosque of Sayyeda Zeinab. Dozens of the grandchildren and children of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein are buried on both sides of this street, and their mausoleums and mosques are visited by Muslims from all over the world.
Dr. Saeed Abul-Isaad, the secretary of the general Mashyakah (Sheikhdom) of Sufi Methods, a semi-independent entity that sees eye-to-eye with both Al Azhar and the Mufti but that has its own elections and administrations, also believes in the baraka (blessing) of the descendants. His book Nailo El-Khayrat El-Malmousa, Bizayarati Ahlil Bayti wal Salihina bi Misra El-Mahroussa, is a guide to the lineage and locations of Egypt’s saints and descendants.
As a Sufi, this baraka is the core of his belief. The four Sufi Aqtab, or poles, are all direct descendants of the Prophet (PBUH). These are Ahmed Al-Rifaii (buried in Iraq, his grandson is buried in Al-Rifaii Mosque in Cairo), Ibrahim Al-Dessouki (buried in Dessouq, Egypt’s Delta), Ahmed Al-Badawi (buried in Tanta, Egypt’s Delta) and Abdel Qader Al-Jilani (buried in Iraq).
“God ordered us to visit and love the relatives of the Prophet,” Abul-Isaad says, quoting Qur’an 42:23, “Say: ‘No reward do I ask of you for this except the love of those near of kin. (Ashshura)’.”
This is why, he points out, Egypt was called Masr El-Mahroussa in the past. “It is because it is mahroussa [protected] by the Ahlul Bayt who came to it seeking refuge after they were persecuted everywhere else,” he says. “Although my book cites tens of shrines, these make up only a fraction of the true number of descendants buried in Egypt. Egypt has always been a refuge. Before Islam, there was the Prophet Youssef, the Prophet Moussa, and the Prophet Issa, who were all protected in Egypt. Egypt’s hospitality coincided with the generosity of Ahlul Bayt.”
Pride of Place
At least 70,000 Egyptians are literally card-carrying descendants of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and his family. Senior Writer Manal el-Jesri goes inside the society that certifies their belonging to Al-Ashraaf and wonders: Is this branch of a family that is as ancient as the Holy Qur’an ready to deal with a new Saudi society and the rise of DNA testing?More than social and religious prestige are at stake: Did the Prophet himself not say that the Mahdi who will bring peace to Earth after much war and destruction would be “from my family, from the sons of Fatima”?
By Manal el-Jesri
Sheikh Mohamed Hammad, the imam of Al-Rifaii Mosque, recently had a ru’ya (a divine dream). He’s reluctant to talk about it and becomes a little shy when pressed, but it was this ru’ya that prompted him to start investigating his family’s lineage, setting him off on a journey that has led him to believe he is a descendant of Prophet Muhammad, God’s peace and prayers be upon him.
“A sheikh once told me that if someone dreams of one of the Prophet’s family, and especially if the dream is of a female not wearing a veil, it means he is a mahrim [a male relative],” Sheikh Hammad says. It was the great Sayyeda Zeinab that he dreamt of, that woman so beloved of Egypt’s poor — the protector of the helpless, the chief of the Diwan, Omm Hashem, the Lady Zeinab, the granddaughter of Sayyedna Muhammad, who was given her name by God Himself through His messenger, the angel Gabriel.
Sayyeda Zeinab came to Egypt in the year 61 after Hijra (AH, equivalent to the year 680 on the Julian calendar) after her brother, Sayyedna Al-Hussein, was murdered in the battle of Karbalaa by the legions of the new Umayyad Caliph Al-Yazid I. She died and was buried in Cairo, where an entire district was named in her honor. To this day, the Mosque of Sayyeda Zeinab is a popular destination for Egyptians, poor and rich, in need of succor.
Sayyeda Zeinab’s journey to Egypt showed the Prophet’s other grandchildren and relatives that Egypt would be a safe haven for them in times of need. She had brought her nephews and nieces with her, the sons and daughters of her deceased brothers Al-Hussein and Al-Hassan, and their descendants are those who live among us today as Al-Ashraaf.
At turns feared and persecuted by those in power because of the boundless love and respect the family attracts from the masses, there are now some 70,000 officially recognized families in Egypt who can trace their lineage back to the Prophet and his descendants. While estimates of the number of descendants yet to be registered varies widely depending on which authority you ask, nassaaba (lineage expert, singular and plural) at the nation’s centuries-old Niqabat Al-Ashraaf (Al-Ashraaf Syndicate) diligently sift through stacks of documents and process paperwork to verify who will be recognized as a member of Al-Ashraaf and who will not. Canvassing the entire nation for the family of the Prophet — who died some 1,400 years ago in 632 AH (1234 AD) — is no easy feat, with today’s nassaaba obliged to depend on documents — not just family histories passed down in the oral tradition — to verify lineage.
Although the largest concentration of officially recognized Al-Ashraaf can be found in Cairo and Upper Egypt, disagreements over matrilineal descent and how an application to be recognized as a Shareef is investigated has led Al-Ashraaf scattered across the Arab world to subtly begin questioning the Egyptian syndicate’s credibility. In April, a new Al-Ashraaf association launched in Saudi Arabia, claiming it will certify applicants’ status as Al-Ashraaf using more modern, scientific methodologies — including, perhaps, DNA testing.
For applicants, though, certification as a Shareef is about far more than a piece of paper on the wall.
At the Syndicate
Sheikh Hammad hopes to receive his certificate after the lineage verification committee finishes its investigations. That committee is at the heart of Niqabat Al-Ashraaf on Salah Salem Road. The architecture of the syndicate’s opulent headquarters is Islamic-chic. Ornamental marble covers the outside of the building, the interior of which is furnished in arabesque wood. Carved brass adorns most walls, and the main hall underneath the dome has a magnificent brass and colored glass chandelier.
Sitting behind his desk is Ahmed Kamel Yassin, a retired general now known as Al-Naqeeb (the head of the Syndicate, or Niqaba) as was his brother before him. Yassin can trace his lineage back to both Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein and, more recently, to the Imam Al-Rifaii, the beloved Sufi pole (see box), a heritage that also makes Yassin the Grand Sheikh of the Rifaii Sufi method.
The wall behind Yassin is decorated with a huge replica of the stamp of Prophet Muhammad. He looks at it lovingly when asked about it. “Al-Ashraaf are the descendants of the Messenger of God, and people cherish this lineage. They love it and protect it,” Yassin says.
In Egypt, which boasts the highest concentration of Al-Ashraaf in the world, the Niqaba — headed by Yassin, who is aided by both a board and a committee of nassaaba — has existed since the time of the Fatimid dynasty (910-1171 AD). The first naqeeb was Caliph Al-Muizz Li Din Allah in 968 AD. In his day and for centuries afterward, registering with the Niqaba was pointless, as the naqeeb personally knew all Al-Ashraaf and the idea that anyone would make a false claim never arose.
One of the most illustrious of Yassin’s predecessors was Al-Sayyed Omar Makram, who was in charge during the 1798 Bonaparte campaign against Egypt. The leader of the second Cairo revolution against the French in 1800, his religious role has been cast into the national identity.
For more than a century and a half afterward, the syndicate prospered. Then, in 1953, Al-Naqeeb Al-Sayyed Mohamed Ali El-Beblawy passed away. Gamal Abdel Nasser, the president of the time, conspicuously opted not to appoint a new one. Although the Niqaba was never traditionally associated with the state, it was President Hosni Mubarak who brought it back to life by appointing Yassin’s brother Mahmoud Kamel Yassin as Al-Naqeeb in 1991. Ahmed Kamel Yassin followed in his brother’s footsteps in 1994, also appointed by Mubarak.
(Interestingly, Ahmed Yassin was the first to bring the title of Shareef to Egypt. “It was used in other countries, but in Egypt we used the title of Al-Sayyed to refer to a descendant of the Prophet,” he explains.)
“Everything you see around you is paid for by Al-Ashraaf,” says Yassin. “We receive no support from the Ministry of Awqaf [Religious Endowments]. In the past, Al-Ashraaf themselves had awqaf, profits coming from agricultural land, for example, that helped support the poorer family members. The reason for the existence of the awqaf was because a Shareef is not allowed to accept charity, but can accept help from another Shareef. They are cousins, after all. When I became naqeeb, a young Shareef had an accident. He became paralyzed, and had no source of income. I decided to establish a fund for Al-Ashraaf. The rich members of the syndicate pay into it, and the revenue goes to the poorer members. We also send members to Hajj and celebrate the major religious events and holidays at our assembly hall here. It is a way for Al-Ashraaf to socialize and get to know each other.
“We are all members of the same family, you know,” he says.
It is a distinction shared by some 70,000 individually registered families in Egypt. “It will take us 10 to 15 years to register all the members of Al-Ashraaf. We are close to 5 or 6 million in Egypt,” Yassin says.
Although some members of Al-Ashraaf believe this figure is too high, Yassin insists millions of Al-Ashraaf are yet to be registered. “When Sayyeda Zeinab first came to Egypt, tens of her relatives came with her,” he notes. “The tens gave birth to hundreds, who later gave birth to thousands, and so on. It’s been 1,400 years. The figure of millions is not a strange one.”
To reach all Al-Ashraaf, Yassin adds, “I have set up tertiary syndicates in every governorate, in some cases even in towns, especially in Upper Egypt. It is where most of Al-Ashraaf are concentrated.” According to Yassin, the syndicate is certifying up to 1,000 new members every month.
Despite the staggering number of certificates being doled out, verifying a family’s lineage is no simple matter, Yassin continues. “Some people hold on to their family trees. These are very long parchments which they wrap and put in a tin box, kept safely in the hands of the oldest member of the family. Then there are books about lineage, and next come the keepers, those who memorize the lineage of a family. We have a register here dating back 150 years ago, with the names of all Al-Ashraaf whose lineage has been verified,” he says.
The Keeper
Elsewhere in the Niqabat Al-Ashraaf building, Hajj Sobhi Eid sits in a room full of researchers. It is here that certificates of lineage originate: Everyone in this room is an expert on the Hashimi lineage — the lineage of the Prophet Muhammad’s tribe — but it is easy to recognize Eid as the chief expert in the room. With eyes tired from too many hours spent poring over old books and a look on his face that says, ‘Talk if you must, but I am busy, so make it quick,’ Eid is also a Shareef, one of a dying breed of keepers who can recite his own lineage back to its origin, the Prophet Himself.
“My lineage comes from my mother and my father, who are both Al-Ashraaf,” Eid says in a slow drawl, sounding as if he has not spoken for ages.
Asked about the figure of 5 million Al-Ashraaf in Egypt, the history scholar and top Syndicate investigator shakes his head in boredom. “This is not exactly accurate. Where does this figure come from when we have registered 70,000 families and are about to finish registration? We have covered all of Egypt, although this includes lineage coming from the mother and the father, which is not exactly accurate. A mother’s lineage is called butoun, that of the father is called aslaab, which is what a nassaaba should go by,” he says.
Not minding Eid’s questions on the issue, Yassin has a ready answer for the question of whether the status of Al-Ashraaf can pass through the maternal line, saying, “We are the sons of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein, the children of Fatima Al-Zahraa, the daughter of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon Him. She is our source of lineage, so how can we deny lineage to other mothers? In other countries, they even accept the lineage of Sayyeda Zeinab herself, but here in Egypt, a Shareef is a descendant of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein,” Yassin says.
Eid, though, counters that not all mothers are to be compared to Fatima Al-Zahraa, and a hadith of the Prophet Muhammad appears to give credence to his argument: “All the children of a mother are attributed to their fatherly relation except the sons of Fatima,” the Prophet said. Indeed, the Prophet loved his daughter so much that he considered Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein his own children, he loved them deeply. All three of the Prophet’s own sons died in infancy.
As a youth, Eid was attendant to his grandparents at the time of their ablutions for prayer and was taught the lineage of his own family and that of his relatives at the tender age of 12. Despite his rare proficiency in orally tracing back his lineage, Eid hesitates to talk about that approach to ansaab (lineage), saying he makes decisions on membership in Al-Ashraaf through solid evidence presented in documents and scholarly tracts.
“At home, I have about 40,000 books on ansaab. It is an exact science, and a very dangerous thing to deal with lightly,” he says. What makes it so difficult, Eid explains, is that Arabs, especially Al-Ashraaf, often share origins. “You will find that Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein meet at Fatima Al-Nabawiyya and Al-Hassan Al-Muthanna, who are cousins. If a Shareef says he is Hassani or Husseini, it makes no difference. The Messenger of God told us to recognize and remember our ansaab in order to be kind to our relatives. That is the main purpose,” he says.
Today, the memorization of lineage is still practiced among Arab tribes, be they in Upper Egypt or in other parts of the region. Lineage, after all, was the key factor in adjudicating land claims prior to Islam. With the arrival of Islam, lineage became a source of baraka, or blessing, particularly for Al-Ashraaf.
One’s nasab (singular for ansaab) was particularly important in view of the continuous migration of Al-Ashraaf, who were persecuted by leaders across the region who feared Al-Ashraaf might try to convert their immense popular support into bids for power.
After all, Eid notes, “Abdel Rahman El-Dakhel started the Arab dynasty in Andalusia. There was also Idriss, who migrated to Morocco.” (Idriss is, in fact, one of Eid’s forefathers: the nassaaba’s name ends in Idrissi.) “Idriss and his brother Suleiman migrated to North Africa. Idriss was the son of Abdullah Al-Kamel, the son of Al-Hassan Al-Muthanna, the son of Al-Imam Al-Hassan, the son of Ali ibn Abi Taleb [the cousin of the Prophet and husband of his beloved daughter, Fatima Al-Zahraa]. He founded the Idrissi dynasty in Morocco. The people of North Africa love Ahlul Bayt [the family of the Prophet], and the Berber king married off his daughter to Idriss, who bore him Mohammed and Suleiman. Mohammed later had Idriss [the true founder of the dynasty] who had 12 or 14 or 16 children,” he says.
Most of Al-Ashraaf of Morocco are Idrissis, a handful of whom would later make their way to Egypt.
Map of Love
More than 14 centuries separate the modern age from the time of the Prophet. As can be expected, tracking every member of every family that branched off from this illustrious lineage over the years is a daunting task, making it essential that a nassaaba born into the tradition of lineage tracing has a passion for his work.
“A nassaaba has to be very careful. The sources are many and varied. It could be a history book, a book about a history figure, a book about family trees, or a book about lineage. But not any book is to be trusted,” Eid warns. “You have to study something about the author and whether he wrote what he wrote for money or to leave behind a true legacy. There are authors to trust and authors to take lightly.”
Eid is currently working on a guidebook for future nassaaba with pointers on the correct methods of investigating lineage as well as tips on steering clear of common mistakes. A how-to guide for a nassaaba, if you will.
Take, for example, the common problem of parents naming their child after a revered imam such as Al-Rifaii. “This constitutes a problem because a family could later claim they are descendants of Al-Rifaii. But which Rifaii: the original one or his namesake? This is why it is dangerous, although tempting, to go by the famous names of Al-Ashraaf as the only proof of lineage,” Eid warns.
Even the lineage of some families already declared Al-Ashraaf is open to question, he suggests. Eid, one of the most meticulous experts on ansaab, recounts how things were done back during the time of the old Niqaba, before 1953.
“What they gave members was not a certificate, it was a decree of nasab, and some of those are over 200 years old. Like today, a person had to come forward with their documents and the Niqaba would send detectives to visit the person’s village or town and ask the old people about the claims of lineage. Some people were famous Al-Ashraaf, and sometimes the Niqaba depended solely on this reputation. It was not accurate enough. These days, we depend on documents and history books only. Everything must be well-documented on paper,” Eid says.
Today, many applications are turned down. Eid refuses to talk about the percentage of rejected applications, but says that the status of any nasab falls under four categories: sahih (correct), maqbul (accepted), da’if (weak) and mardud (rejected). “We never tell anyone that their documents are forged, although we have seen some forgeries. We just say that the nasab is mardud,” he says.
Magdi El-Safty, the former deputy of Naqabat Al-Ashraaf from Alexandria, discovered a number of forged family trees.
“Some families had posted their family trees on the internet, and it was very obvious that these trees were forgeries,” claims El-Safty. “I even know of a place here in Alexandria where they forge family trees. It is obvious when a tree is a forgery: You can see it in the calligraphy, the style, the ink and many other variants. I have seen so much that I can tell a forgery from an authentic document right away.”
El-Safty, an accountant by profession, worked as a deputy for the Niqaba for six years, from 1994 to 2000. “At the time I took charge, there were only 50 registered Al-Ashraaf families in Alexandria. I helped register 1,500 members,” he says. As El-Safty sees it, the Niqaba’s main job is to protect ansaab so they are not lost. Although no longer associated with the Syndicate, El-Safty maintains a website — www.alashraf.ws — funded by Kuwaiti Al-Sherif Abdullah Al-Hussein and visited by Al-Ashraaf from all over the world. El-Safty’s site is not backed by the Egypt-based Syndicate.
“For Arabs, the nasab was an important element of their identity. They kept it and recorded it. An old family’s tree would be a six or seven-meter document. When I worked at the Alexandria branch of the syndicate, I always made sure I saw the original before accepting a copy. Some families were registered with the old, pre-1953 Niqaba, and these we used to accept right away, but then some are known to be Al-Ashraaf. In the villages, people know these things. They memorize the families’ lineages,” he says.
With overpopulation, it became difficult to depend on elders’ memories. That is when forgeries started springing up, El-Safty alleges.
“In Upper Egypt, where the tribal feelings are very strong, someone would say ‘I am a Shareef,’ so another, in order to raise the status of his family or tribe, would say, ‘Well, so am I.’ Down there, it makes a huge difference in People’s Assembly elections if you are a Shareef or not. [Upper Egypt boasts the greatest concentration of Al-Ashraaf in Egypt and probably the world. A Shareef there is guaranteed success in any election.] In other cases, drug traffickers procure forged family trees to claim descent to the Prophet. It is their way of diverting attention from their illegal activities,” he says.
With Shareef such a sought-after title, El-Safty is skeptical of the notion Egypt might be home to millions of Al-Ashraaf. “This means that one of every 10 Egyptians is a Shareef. How can this be? Even the figure of 70,000 is too large. The Niqaba accepts the lineage of women, which is not accurate. I believe the true figure to be one third or a little less [of 70,000].”
Back to the Roots
Monoufiyya-born Sheikh Mohammad ibn Ali Al-Talha is the secretary-general of a new association of the descendants of the Prophet, the Mecca-based World Scientific Association of Hashimi Lineage. Al-Shareef Mohammad Al-Husseiny, a Saudi businessman and chief of the Hashimi descendants in Saudi Arabia, serves as the president of the association, which says it aims to connect Al-Ashraaf all over the world — and to weed out the false claims to the lineage.
“As you know, there have been a lot of false claims to Hashimi descent by big families. These claims are hurtful. The association will branch all over the world, with a secretary-general and deputies in every country. We hope this association will put things to rights regarding the issue of descent,” Al-Talha explains.
One way the organization plans to “put things to rights” is to base its registration on DNA testing. “A few years ago, an Egyptian doctor in the US was helping us get tested,” adds El-Safty, who is one of the three nassaaba serving as consultants to Al-Talha, explains. “The test I took was designed to prove if a person is of Adnani descent [Adnan is common ancestor of all Arabs]. But I believe it is possible to reach the DNA of Al-Ashraaf. We can get the defining sample from one of the oldest families whose descent in indisputable and then compare the tested samples to it. The Jews did this, to prove if someone is a Semite or not, and it worked for them.”
(El-Safty’s suggestion of tracing lineage through DNA has merit, but is at best a highly simplistic view of the complex science of population genetics and how it may be used to identify a person’s membership in a particular family.)
Although Al-Talha is enthusiastic about the new association, he’s not certain that all members should be subjected to a DNA test. He himself took the ‘Adnani test,’ but believes DNA testing should be optional. “It will be very awkward if old, established families were to find out that after hundreds of years of believing they are Al-Ashraaf, they discover they are regular people after all,” he says.
The new World Scientific Association, Al-Talha believes, will have more credibility than Egypt’s Niqaba, which he criticizes for having a leader who is not a lineage expert. Traditionally, naqeebs have all been nassaaba, but that has not been the case recently.
“I believe his job is not to just sign the certificate. He must be an expert, he must have a say. Some certificates have been issued that were not accurate. Our credibility, as a result, has been affected. Some people just want the certificate for prestige,” Al-Talha claims.
The association, which says it hopes to collaborate with the Syndicate, will accept members after a much stricter verification process. “The secretary general, aided by three nassaaba [including El-Safty, in the case of Egypt], will personally review every application. Our recommendation will be sent to Mecca, where further verification is to take place. The certificate will be issued in Mecca,” Al-Talha says.
There’s more at stake here than just social and religious prestige, Al-Talha warns. Exactly who is and isn’t a Shareef will one day be important in helping people accept the Mahdi, the man whose advent was promised by the Prophet Muhammad and who will bring peace to Earth after much war and destruction. The Mahdi, you see, will be a descendant of the house of Muhammad. The Prophet s “The Mahdi is from my family, from the sons of Fatima.”
Like Eid, Al-Talha believes Fatima was special: she was the Prophet’s favorite daughter, which is why matrilineal descent is only specific to her. “I believe it is wrong to include the sons and daughters of a Shareefa in the lineage. If we were to weed out all those, we can safely say there are only around 5,000 Al-Ashraaf in Egypt,” he says.
Al-Talha, an expert on ansaab, is proud to talk about his own. “Al-Talha are originally Moroccan. Our ancestor is Sayyedi Sho’eib Abu Madyan, who was a great Sufi pole during his time. He died in the year 598 AH (1201 AD). Sayyedi Talha and his father Madyan ibn Sho’eib came to Egypt in the year 603 AH (1206 AD). The governorate of Kafr El-Sheikh used to be called Kafr El-Sheikh Talha. King Fouad then changed the name to El-Fouadiyya, but after the revolution it was changed back to Kafr El-Sheikh,” Al-Talha says. “The area of Hayy El-Magharba in Jerusalem is a waqf that was awarded to our family, in addition to five villages in Palestine. The Wall of El-Buraq [also known as the Wailing Wall to the Jews, it is a holy place for Muslims because it is where the Prophet Muhammad tethered his winged steed on his night trip to Jerusalem] is part of this waqf. Dr. Ahmed Abu Madyan, a Shareef and our relative, has been considering taking the issue to the International Court of Justice, [Israel claimed the land following the 1967 War].”
Pride of Place
Al-Talha was recently in Cairo to visit the Grand Mufti of Egypt Aly Gomaa to receive a fatwa regarding the Hashimi descent, after hearing of a fatwa issued by Sheikh Abdullah bin Jibrein, one of Saudi Arabia’s most famous Wahhabi thinkers.
“Ibn Jibrein had said that there is nothing called Hashimis anymore. He also said that those who claim to be Hashimis should be able to accept charity, which was prohibited by the Prophet himself. He based his claims on the fact that the existing Hashimis are too far removed in time from the Prophet. This is ridiculous. Some people have family trees that go back to the time of Sayyedna Adam. The Mufti told me the fatwa of Ibn Jibrein is the talk of Wahhabis and he is going to write a fatwa to disclaim it,” Al-Talha says.
The insistence of Al-Ashraaf, including Al-Talha and El-Safty, on protecting their noble lineage is a good thing, but does seem rather frantic. Al-Naqeeb Yassin takes a much more relaxed approach. To him, the heritage is something to be proud of, but is nothing to obsess over.
“Al-Shareef holds no advantage over anyone else. The Prophet said there is no difference between an Arab and a foreigner except through taqwa [fear of God]. I give every Shareef who has just registered his family a booklet, in which I write this advice: ‘My brother the Shareef, by belonging to Ahlul Bayt, you must know that this does not make you any different from the rest of the people. It is an honor that is only made better through fear of God. You must model yourself on our master, the Prophet. [] You must obey God and the Prophet, pray a regularly and work, because Islam is a religion for life and the beyond.’
“It is dangerous to be overly proud of being a Shareef,” Yassin continues. “It was a real problem in Upper Egypt, because Shareefas refused to marry anyone who was not a Shareef, and as a result we had a great number of unmarried women. I have fought this habit, and I believe I have been able to change things.” et
For six years, Sheikh Mohamed Hammad was imam of Sayyeda Zeinab Mosque, witnessing the daily crowds of visitors seeking her shrine. Today the imam of Al-Rifaii Mosque, Sheikh Hammad has long pondered why it is that Egyptians, rich and poor alike, seek blessing and succor from the deceased in times of need, even though the Saudi Arabian, or Wahhabi, interpretation of Islam frowns upon the practice.
“Why do people who have money troubles go to Sayyeda Nafeesa? Why do people who are in some kind of crisis visit Sayyedna Al-Hussein? And why do people in trouble go to Sayyeda Zeinab, why do those who are feeling depressed go to Sayyeda Aisha? I have thought about this for long, but then at a celebration in the Mosque of Sayyeda Zeinab, I found myself reciting this verse: ‘They shall have all that they wish for, in the presence of their Lord: such is the reward of those who do good” (Suret Az-Zumar 39:34).’
“And then I thought, ‘But why do people have to go to their shrine to ask for their assistance, or rather their intervention, in seeking God’s help?’ The Prophet said a grave is either one of the gardens of Paradise or one of the pits of Hell. So if you stand in front of the shrine of one of these descendants, then you are at the gate of Paradise,” Hammad explains. “This is why supplication is answered by God. People have tried this, it has worked for them, this is why they keep going back.”
Although the descendants of the Prophet’s uncles are also considered Al-Ashraaf in other parts of the world, the descendants of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein are those considered the true Ahlul Bayt (Family of the Prophet). According to the Qur’an (33:33 — Suret Al-Ahzab): “And Allah only wishes to remove all abomination from you, ye members of the Family, and to make you pure and spotless.” In Sahih Muslim, one of the most accurate compilations of the Prophet’s sayings, the Prophet is quoted explaining verse 33: “The verse of purification was revealed concerning five people: myself, Ali, Hassan, Hussein and Fatima.”
This is why Egyptians are proud to say that their country is the resting place of a great number of the Prophet’s first descendants. In fact, a whole street is dedicated to the revered family. Cutting through the district of Khalifa, the street connects the mosque of Al-Sayyeda Nafeesa, the beloved of Egypt’s women, to the mosque of Sayyeda Zeinab. Dozens of the grandchildren and children of Al-Hassan and Al-Hussein are buried on both sides of this street, and their mausoleums and mosques are visited by Muslims from all over the world.
Dr. Saeed Abul-Isaad, the secretary of the general Mashyakah (Sheikhdom) of Sufi Methods, a semi-independent entity that sees eye-to-eye with both Al Azhar and the Mufti but that has its own elections and administrations, also believes in the baraka (blessing) of the descendants. His book Nailo El-Khayrat El-Malmousa, Bizayarati Ahlil Bayti wal Salihina bi Misra El-Mahroussa, is a guide to the lineage and locations of Egypt’s saints and descendants.
As a Sufi, this baraka is the core of his belief. The four Sufi Aqtab, or poles, are all direct descendants of the Prophet (PBUH). These are Ahmed Al-Rifaii (buried in Iraq, his grandson is buried in Al-Rifaii Mosque in Cairo), Ibrahim Al-Dessouki (buried in Dessouq, Egypt’s Delta), Ahmed Al-Badawi (buried in Tanta, Egypt’s Delta) and Abdel Qader Al-Jilani (buried in Iraq).
“God ordered us to visit and love the relatives of the Prophet,” Abul-Isaad says, quoting Qur’an 42:23, “Say: ‘No reward do I ask of you for this except the love of those near of kin. (Ashshura)’.”
This is why, he points out, Egypt was called Masr El-Mahroussa in the past. “It is because it is mahroussa [protected] by the Ahlul Bayt who came to it seeking refuge after they were persecuted everywhere else,” he says. “Although my book cites tens of shrines, these make up only a fraction of the true number of descendants buried in Egypt. Egypt has always been a refuge. Before Islam, there was the Prophet Youssef, the Prophet Moussa, and the Prophet Issa, who were all protected in Egypt. Egypt’s hospitality coincided with the generosity of Ahlul Bayt.”
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