More Tapestry – Some Answers and More Questions

Family history is a fascinating subject and has a habit of turning up some interesting ancestors. You only have to watch Who Do You Think You Are to realise that anyone from a pauper to a murderer or even royalty can crop up when you least expect it.

It was in a conversation with my Uncle Ham (Hammad) when I was in my twenties that I realised my family’s origins were not limited to Egypt. On the one hand my mother’s great grandfather was from Turkey via Georgia whilst my mother’s father’s family had arrived from Saudi Arabia. But then Egypt, like the UK has long been a sponge for migrants. I have a good recollection for most of what Uncle Ham told me, but I decided that it would be a good idea to listen to a tape he sent to refresh my memory.

It took me a while to find Gudaiyda, but I did find it eventually in Saudi Arabia in a place my uncle called Al Suffra, or the Yellow Desert. But however it is known it is a pretty inhospitable landscape in a harsh climate. I'm intrigued by the fact that there is an area of the desert called Al-Hamad, as Hamad is the family name. Does that mean it is also a tribal name?

A death and a quest for revenge seems to have been the catalyst for a new chapter in the lives of the family. There were five brothers living and one of them was killed but I have no idea why. Was it a border raid, a skirmish? The matriarch demanded that the other brothers went after the killer and bring him back to face death but he had fled into Egypt. The hunt was on and here we have another of those times when there are more questions than answers? Did they catch the killer? Was he brought to justice? Whatever happened I shall never know, but what I do know is that my great, great grandfather fell in love with Egypt. There was more to do, the climate was better and food was plentiful unlike the desert where they had nothing to eat most days but a handful of dates and some bread and milk; so this son of the desert decided to stay.

Here we have another hiatus because in the next breath Uncle Ham describes how his great grandfather was appointed Governor of Monufia by the Khedive. This was a mainly rural area with a lot of agriculture but how he came to earn this status I have no idea as little more was said of it except that he was settled there. He lived a long and happy life and died in his nineties giving each of his many children 100 acres of land to farm, ‘some of whom were successful but not everybody is a good farmer’ (whatever that meant?).

It was from here that he made a Hadj to Mecca to give thanks for surviving his trials and gaining good fortune. During this time he met a young man from Turkey and they quickly became good friends having similar recent experiences of families in upheaval. The other coincidence was that both wives were expecting their first baby and they agreed between them to meet again in a year and that if one child was a girl and the other a boy, then they would be betrothed.

From what I have read about and seen on TV documentaries, Georgia is a beautiful country lying at the eastern end of the Black Sea under the Caucasus Mountains and is steeped in history. The ancient state of Colchis was here, known in Greek mythology as the destination of Jason and the Argonauts who were seeking the Golden Fleece. The land was described as being rich with gold, iron, timber and honey and the people as friendly with music in their hearts.

Uncle Ham said my ancestors lived in the countryside just beyond the capital city of Tbilisi. They owned land and vineyards and lived a comfortable and happy life. This whole area however, has historically been the subject of much envy from neighbouring states such as Persia, Armenia and the Ottomans who would often raid the country. Finally with the break up of the Ottoman Empire, Georgia was annexed by Russia with each of its territories being slowly absorbed during the 19th century. Many people fled the during this time, and it would seem that my family was among them.

The plan was to go to family(?) in Turkey, but as with so many cases of refugees, their flight to safety was a story of danger and exploitation. Taking the bare essentials with them and sewing their valuables into their clothing they entrusted their lives with what must be the equivalent of today’s people smugglers. After an arduous overland journey they arrived at the Black Sea and were smuggled aboard a boat with some other refugees. The boat set out at night in poor weather and many of them were seasick and only too glad to make shore, but before all of their possessions had been unloaded the sailors pushed back out to sea and left them stranded. Not only had they been robbed but left, not in Turkey but in Armenia. How they overcame this devastating setback I do not know, and what happened next can only be left to the imagination, however the family did reach Constantinople (which officially became Istanbul in 1930) and fortunately still had sufficient means to set up home in the ancient city which they loved, with its decorative wooden houses with so much character and steeped in art and history. The family also had a house along the Bosporus in a small fishing village called Sariyer (now a large district of Istanbul). The house was near a small mosque in the centre. It had two storeys, the ground floor was the living accommodation and the first floor for bedrooms with a salon for coffee in the mornings having a nice balcony and a view of the lovely garden where the children played, climbing trees and picking fruit. It seems that my great, great grandfather suffered from kidney problems and the fresh sea air was good for his health.

This great, great grandfather was a lover of the arts specialising in religious art. He wrote three copies of the Quran, two of which stayed in Istanbul and the third made its way eventually to Egypt to his daughter’s husband. Uncle Ham dearly wanted to see a copy but the one in Egypt had been missing for some years. Taking advantage of an opportune conference many years later in Istanbul he tried to trace a copy, asking in the museums about the work of the old calligraphers, but sadly he remained unsuccessful. Which is not surprising considering that Istanbul often suffered from terrible fires over the years that destroyed houses and civic buildings alike.

The younger members of the family, angry at having to flee their home in such circumstances soon became politicised. This was the time when most of Europe was in turmoil. They fastened their colours to a rising star called Kamel Ataturk of whom they became firm supporters, and never looked back.

My great, great grandfather having finally settled down made a Hadj to Mecca to give thanks for surviving his trials and his good fortune and whilst there he met and quickly made friends with a young man from Egypt. A meeting that tied the two families together forever.

The meanderings of Uncle Ham’s stories and the piecing together of the many threads has not been easy. I have been left with great gaps, huge leaps in time to chapters much further on. I next found that my great grandfather’s elder brother Mostafa had died young which meant that Abbas, my great grandfather, being next in line had taken over from his father as the ‘Omda’ or Governor of Monufia.

The city where they lived was quite small but it was the job of Abbas to look after the welfare of the people. He dealt with their troubles and disputes and was constantly in demand. However, he was not quite as fit as his father, suffering from rheumatics and the climate of the city they lived in did not suit his health. The doctor felt that a move would be advisable and so they went to Helwan which at that time was known for its temperate climate and mineral waters. Every house had a garden with trees and the garden city suited him well. It was also a friendly, sociable place where people of all religions lived happily alongside each other.

There was a family of four, my grandmother being the eldest.

Next was Moharambi who came to England and studied Engineering at Cambridge. He was a sportsman and always captain of his team, and when he finished his studies he went back to Egypt and was involved in a project to get electricity to the Upper part of Egypt and then electricity to the Lower part of Egypt. It was a suggested alternative to the preferred Aswan High Dam which was eventually built by el Nasser.

Ibrahim Haram followed and he was an Electrical Engineer, gaining his qualifications in Germany before returning to Egypt to work for the government.

Finally came Kaligam Haram whom Uncle Ham adored. Probably because she was very kind and always brought him some sweets when she visited.

I know little more of my grandmother, not even her name, and I know nothing of my grandfather except that he was a doctor with the family name of Hamad and he died young. What I do know is that before his death, the family was a very happy one. The eldest son Mohammad was studying to be a doctor in his father’s footsteps until his untimely death in a car crash. The next son, Ishmael also had a scientific bent and once he was qualified went on to work in Alexandria in the Cotton Industry.

The third son was dear Uncle Ham, who was seriously affected by the car crash in his youth that killed his brother, as he too was in the car and broke his back. Until that point he was determined to become a doctor like his father, but the following months spent in hospital slowly changed his mind. He drifted for a while, first as a Journalist, then he was into Egyptology but finally he found his niche as a Civil Engineer, got his doctorate and spent a lot of time in Saudi Arabia working for the government. His main aim was always to include gardens in his developments, as it transported him back to his childhood and the Garden City in which he was raised.

And finally we come to my mother, Aida Aleya. She was beautiful and the darling of the family, adored by her parents and spoiled by her brothers. She received a good education for a girl, being schooled in the local convent with other girls of good family and regardless of religious background. She could speak six languages and was a wonderful seamstress. But like Uncle Ham, she found it hard to settle when her mother moved the family to Cairo following the death of her father and brother. She rebelled and went to work for the British Army in occupation as a typist which is where she met my father.

It has been a long journey, tracing back the years and trying to rebuild the tapestry. I'm left with a strong desire to visit Georgia and and find that mosque in the square in Sariyer. Some threads will never tie up and I have to thank my dear friend Salah Bastawrous for helping me to decipher some of the names and places, but I think I have salvaged most of the weave so that the picture will not be completely lost.

Now, I wonder what my English family got up to?