My mother died in 1976. It was a strange experience as I never had the opportunity to get to know her and I grieved her passing with huge sadness. There were many things that I would never ever get to do, say or ask and as for her history, there was a whole family that I didn’t even know. There was one person however, an uncle who I had exchanged letters with over the course of a few years and I decided that I should like to meet him and his family and learn a bit about my Egyptian heritage. I saved hard, both money and holiday days and in the following October managed to get a cheap airline ticket with the help of Salah a dear Egyptian friend, and made my trip. I’d only flown once before and was far more nervous than I let on. Fortunately my aunt and uncle lived near Heathrow and I was able to stay with them overnight before starting my journey. It was a good flight with some surprising memories. The wonderful sight of all of the terra cotta pantiled roof tops as we flew in to Milan was the first. Then later, the realisation that we were flying over Egyptian territory, but in the darkness all I could see was the odd glint of light here and there. It was quite a magical sight.
The next bit was quite scary on reflection. The flight landed at around 11.00pm and I suddenly realised that I had no idea what was going to happen next. Would I recognise my uncle? Of course I would; I had a photo of him and he looked remarkably like Edward G Robinson. Would he recognise me? Of course he would, I was the only English person on the flight. In fact that was the easy bit as it turned out. Although I had written to Uncle Ham (Hammad) five weeks earlier, he had only just received my letter that day. So by some fortune of fate he was waiting for me with my cousin Emman; two anxious faces in the arrivals hall that suddenly lit up as I appeared.
The taxi ride through the night city was a bit of a blur with Uncle Ham wanting to make sure I was ok, then pointing out various buildings and landmarks. But eventually we pulled up outside a small hotel round the corner from my uncle’s apartment. I would have liked to have stayed with the family, but with hindsight it wasn’t a bad idea as space would have been an issue. The apartment, whilst large and comfortable was piled high with books, reading and research material and also what Uncle Ham had written and were waiting to be sold.
I woke the following morning and looked out on an amazing sight. My room, which was quite high up looked out over the city. The building opposite had the usual flat roof where a little house had been built on top. The bedding was airing and a lady was busy sweeping; I could hear a goat bleating and a cockerel was giving voice on the wall. Not your usual sight for someone from the UK. I went down to a breakfast of coffee and the most delicious breakfast rolls I have ever tasted.
The first day was filled with meeting and getting to know the family. We were all a bit shy to start with, but I had taken some gifts which made a good ice-breaker and very soon we were all asking and answering questions, eager to get to know each other. We struggled a bit with the language to start with which caused a lot of laughter, but their English was notably better than my non-existent Arabic and Uncle Ham was on hand to translate for Aunt Doreya and three of my six cousins. The youngest Emman, then Ayat and Sophia. Fatima and Mervat were both away at university studying Medicine, whilst the eldest Pousie was at work. We all got a bit emotional talking about my mother who they all knew and loved and were very sad that she had died.
The following day my Uncle took Emman and I to the Cairo Museum. What a fabulous place and I was able to see all of the Tutankhamun treasures long before they were exhibited round the world. The most impressive sight had to be the golden shrine, followed by the various sarcophagi and the golden throne, so richly ornamented. There were icons of Anubis and endless masks and an amazing bed fashioned with stretched Leopards, complete with curly tails. My eyes feasted on it all. The statues were monumental and the usual displays of artefacts from everyday living became awesome objects when I saw the quality and beauty and knowing that they were so very ancient. The gold on almost every object, looking so fresh and new and wherever you looked there were magnificent items to see. Uncle Ham had spent a few years working as an Egyptologist early in his career and wandered off to talk to his friend the Director of the Museum leaving Emman and I to explore which we did happily. There were displays of jewelry that would not have looked out of place today, gorgeous rings, necklaces, sets of bangles and earrings in gold and other coloured beads. Children's toys, especially the unmistakable dolls, balls and hoops. Lots of pots and cooking utensils and other household goods and a whole area was given over to personal icons of the gods. There were plenty of Sarcophagi and Mummies around, but on his return he took us to a quiet corner and pointed out one in particular, special because it was made of silver which he said was a metal rarely found in Egypt.
That was the day that I had my first visit to the famous café Groppi. I had read about it and jumped at the suggestion that we went for a coffee. It is a very grand looking building on the corner of Talaat Harb and Qasr El Nil Street in Cairo and was the place to be seen. It was patronised by British officers during our occupation, but when I was there it was where writers and artists would meet. I can’t remember what we had; I was just so excited to be there.
Most people automatically think of the ancient civilisation when they think about Egypt, but Cairo is a modern bustling city and the next few days were spent visiting and taking in the sights. It was a massive, noisy experience but everywhere I went I met smiling, friendly people and all wanting to practice their English. The traffic was appalling with people turning right and left and horns going, but it just added to the atmosphere. I watched fascinated as someone parked his car into the smallest space with at least six others guiding him in. They did it too with a lot of shouting and arm waving. Everything was so different to me and I loved just watching people as they went about their day. The new and the old, the dusty pavements, a hen scuttling down an alley. People ironing with old fashioned solid irons that had to be heated up with a lump of coal. Butchers shops with the halal meat hanging. A child selling bread on a doorstep. Ladies in black with full face covering and children in tow, and yet others dressed in Western style and everyone rushing around. The lovely shops, smart people going about their business, the sound of car horns, peoples' voices and the cry of the Muezzin on an evening.
We went up to the Citadel with its impressive views over the city and a massive key for the main door. This had been a palace and the main seat of power for centuries and from the scale of the place you could see why. The Nile took my imagination with its Feluccas gliding gracefully by on the water, so wide and deep and full of history. We took a River bus to see the Nilometer a structure I had never heard of, but there it was; a place where the flood levels of the Nile are measured. A really fascinating place and well worth the visit, especially if you are an engineer and interested in flood management. Back on the river bank, Emman and I watched as delicious Sugar Cane drinks were prepared for us in one place and fresh orange juice in another. It was all quite magical, but no visitor should leave Cairo without seeing the Sphinx and the Great Pyramids at Giza.
There is an overwhelming feeling of the timelessness of the site at Giza. The Sphinx is majestic and standing next to it I was quite overawed and yet I knew it was huge. The Great Pyramid towered above us, the sun beat down and it could have been thousands of years ago. I took photos whilst Uncle Ham acted as a brilliant tourist guide. Cameleers were organising their Camels ready for the day's visitors and Dung beetles rolled the dirt along in the dusty ground. Once again, my uncle steered us to the Director’s office and with introductions over I was given a tour of the site. It was extremely hot and I should have like to have taken up the offer of going into the Pyramid, but just thinking about the confined space made me feel claustrophobic. Anyway I was to see something far more interesting. In a modern building next to the great Pyramid was a new exhibit. It was the Khufu ship. Discovered in 1954 at the base of the great pyramid it is known as a Solar Barge and was believed to have been a ritual vessel for the Pharaoh to be used in the afterlife. It took years before enough was understood about the way it was built and then it was carefully reconstructed using ancient methods. The gallery had only just been finished and did not open to the public until 1982 and I knew that I was very privileged to be there. I climbed up on the gallery and walked round the boat imagining it as it might have been with the slaves pulling on the oars as they took the Sarcophagus on its final journey. It was quite an impressive sight. By the time we left the site it was swarming with tourists taking photos and riding camels, but I was thankful to be going back to the cool shade of Uncle Ham's apartment.
On Friday, Uncle Ham went to Friday prayers and also to rest, but he had arranged that I should spend the day with his childhood friend Mr. Koroulis. Emman and I had a hard time keeping up with him as he strode across the city, but we soon discovered that he wished to attend a morning service at the Coptic church of St Mary’s in Old Cairo. We crept in at the back of the church keeping quiet as we could but it wasn’t the only new experience for either of us that day either. What we learnt was that the whole area was of great importance to the Christian world, and especially Coptic Christians as the Holy Family stayed there until Herod’s army learnt of their whereabouts. All around us was evidence and once the service was over, Mr. Koroulis took us to the entrance of a crypt where we looked down through glass to some steps and he explained to us that the Holy Family had hidden here during their flight from Herod’s men. Leaving the church we entered another building and a room where several learned men were sitting talking quietly. It transpired that I was being presented to Pope Shenouda III who also happened to be visiting. We spoke for quite a while about my visit and where I lived in England.
It was quite a morning and there was so much to take in that I know I am hazy on the details. I just remember visiting The Hanging Church and the Greek Orthodox church of St George but not in what order.
Mr. Koroulis seemed always to be in a hurry and before we knew where we were going next we had arrived at the railway station and were boarding a train for Helwan. My excitement grew as I knew that this was where my mother had been born and brought up. We rattled along in the old wooden carriages, squashed in like sardines. A baby opposite me with its mother began to grizzle, so I played peep-o and it wasn’t long before this brown-eyed beauty was sitting on my knee playing happily. I think her mum was pleased to have some space for five minutes.
Helwan in the seventies was a peaceful rural town with nice streets and rows of small neat houses. I’m told I wouldn’t recognise it now, but on that day I was enchanted. We stopped at a little house set back from the road which was the home of a lovely lady called Lydia who was a childhood friend of my mother. Emman and I sat and listened as the two old friends reminisced about their childhood and how all the families knew each other and lived side by side, Coptic Christians, Jews and Muslims altogether. They were happy times for them and we enjoyed sharing their memories. In fact I could have stayed much longer, but Mr. Koroulis had yet more surprises in store.
He marched us on to our next stop which was a rather large house with high walled gardens, an inner courtyard and a sweeping drive guarded by two big gates. It quite obviously had once been very beautiful but was looking a bit neglected and Mr. Koroulis explained that it was the social club for the cement works and the reason he was showing it to us was that it had once been my mother’s family home. I was suitably impressed and thought that had I lived there I would never want to leave it to go and live in Cairo.
It was getting late in the day, and apart from some rolls and dates, we had eaten very little all day and Emman and I were beginning to feel hungry, especially as cooking smells were drifting in our direction. Our patience was rewarded as we entered a house a few streets away and were introduced to my mother’s cousin, his wife who was Aunt Doreya’s sister and their youngest daughter Hedeya. They had been expecting us and prepared a delicious meal which we wolfed down with little ceremony. Wherever we went I was always struck by the kindness and generosity of everyone we met and here was no different. By the time we left I felt that I knew so much more about my mother and she had become more of a person to me and less of an enigma.
Walking back to the station in the warm night my memories are of a dark velvet sky and tall walls with Jasmine spilling over and filling the air with the most heavenly smell. I have loved the Jasmine flower ever since.
There were still questions I hadn’t asked even though I had learnt so much. I had found a photo in my mother’s effects and was curious as to who it could be, but Uncle Ham knew straight away. It was his mother and he was really overcome as he said he did not have a photo of her anywhere. I gladly let him keep it, but I wish I’d had a copy as it was the only one of my grandmother. I asked why the family had left Helwan and learnt of how a tragedy had broken his mother’s heart. His eldest brother Mohammad had been given a car and wanted to take it out for a drive. He asked a friend from Medical School if he would like to go too and Uncle Ham joined them. They drove around for a while and then Mohammad offered the wheel for his friend to drive. He was very keen and assured them that could drive, but it wasn’t true and within minutes of setting off he crashed the car into a wall. Mohammad was killed outright, the friend received a gash on his head and Uncle Ham, who was sitting behind his brother was thrown forwards and broke his back. That and the untimely death of my grandfather unsettled the family and a decision was taken to move to Cairo to get away from the unhappy memories.
It didn’t seem long before I was back in the air flying over the desert and marveling at my view of pint size pyramids and giant shadows left by the clouds on the sandy earth below. I had enjoyed my time in Egypt, fell in love with the country and the people and learnt so much about my family. But I also had to acknowledge that I had had great expectations of the visit and the reality was that I am a Westerner. I grew up in the West, have Western values and needs for Western comforts. But the memories are mine to keep forever. I satisfied a long and desperate need to know and was all the happier for it.
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