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Al-Ahram Weekly 28 Jan. - 3 Feb. 1999 Issue No. 414 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 28 Jan. - 3 Feb. 1999 Issue No. 414
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Focus Economy Opinion Culture Features Living Travel Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Stock in trade
By Ragi HalimLike their creators, monuments and buildings mirror the values and cultural identity of an era. They are doomed either to flourish and develop, or to decline and fade into oblivion.
One example of the latter fate is a 400-year-old monument near Al-Ghouri. The state of the buildings in the area is depressing, particularly when one remembers Creswell's devotion to the preservation of Islamic monuments along Al-Azhar Street and elsewhere. The majestic Sultan Al-Ghouri Mosque is now encroached upon by three store fronts. This deliberate intrusion on history is a shocking sight -- and by no means the last eye sore along the street.
Turning right in the direction of Al-Darrasa, one enters Al-Sharaibi Alley. There, just beyond a line of wholesale shops, stands the once-magnificent Wikalat Al-Sharaibi. The first time I saw it, I was mesmerised.
Near the enormous edifice, a child stood at a window watching the street below. The wikala, in Ottoman times, was a socio-economic institution in its own right: a commercial complex where merchants rented living quarters and rooms to store their goods while they traded in Cairo. Some wikalas even featured prisons, where dishonest merchants were held.
Despair and disrepair: Wikalat Al-Sharaibi
photos: Mohamed Wassim
Wikalat Al-Sharaibi is in complete disrepair: the gate lay flat on the ground, the windows at the entrance were collapsing and the green sign indicating the registration number of the monument with the Supreme Council of Antiquities (SCA) was gone. According to photographer and student of Islamic architecture Ahmed Abdel-Gawwad, the removal of this sign usually marks the beginning of the end. He recalled the case of nearby Wikalat Al-Batrawi, which was demolished in 1984. "Signs are often removed from monuments in order to obliterate their identity," he explained. "And neither the SCA nor the Ministry of Awqaf [religious endowments] follow up this sort of crime."
After the removal of the registration number, a steady process of sabotage is customarily carried out. Eventually, bulldozers are brought in to finish the job, bringing down the supporting walls. In no time, the whole edifice crumbles. The land is then sold to developers. The above scenario has been played out time and again; Abdel-Gawwad believes "the same is planned for Wikalat Al-Sharaibi."
When we first visited the Wikala, about two years ago, local residents and owners of various shops in the area gathered round. All were united in the fear that the roof would fall in and crush them.
The four families living in the Wikala shared the same dream of finding a small one-bedroom flat where they and their children will be safe. Tahiya El-Sayed has been living here for the past 12 years. The authorities had promised to relocate the families. "We were supposed to be given flats in 1992, but the 1995 earthquake pushed our dreams further into the future," explained Abdel-Mohsen Ali, a carpenter who has two children. Meanwhile, Abdel-Mohsen said, "The authorities constantly threaten us with eviction orders." Ali and his family, however, had no alternative at the time. "We have an official letter from the governorate asserting our right to receive flats along with other victims of the earthquake. Last year we took the letter to the Housing Bureau in the Mugamma', but it disappeared into the archives and was never seen again. Six families have been granted flats so far, but we are still waiting.
The inhabitants had their own interpretation of the problems besetting parts of Islamic Cairo. "Before 1985, Al-Sharaibi Street was an insignificant alley. Today, Al-Sharaibi and Al-Hamzawi [Cairo's main wholesale textile market] boast over half a billion pounds' worth of goods in stock. The rapid change brought about by the growing commercial activity of the area is responsible for the astronomical increase in the price of land. Three years ago, 15 men with axes tried to demolish the walls of Hammam Al-Sharaibi (the public bathhouse attached to the Wikala), which support the edifice. But we called the police," Abdel-Mohsen said.
In 1984, he added, a businessman had the Ottoman-era Hammam's four domes destroyed. The SCA took prompt action, however, and had the domes restored. Residents say merchants from the area hope to make millions from the land on which Cairo's Islamic monuments stand. The collapse of these monuments, therefore, is highly desirable as far as they are concerned.
Other residents claimed bulldozers were hired from Sayeda Zeinab, not from Al-Darb Al-Ahmar, which is in the immediate vicinity of Al-Sharaibi Alley, in order to delay police notification. Administrative procedures take several hours, allowing most of the demolition work to be completed.
Who or what was more deserving of sympathy here? Families who had nowhere else to go lived in squalid conditions; at the same time, irreplaceable parts of our heritage were being destroyed with impunity.
When we returned to the Wikala this year, several of the tenants had been allocated flats in Masakin Al-Nahda, near Al-Ubour, one of the settlements built by the government for those who lost their homes in the earthquake. Abdel-Mohsen's father, 'Amm Ramadan, explained they had received the flats a year ago. "I didn't go with them; I already have a flat in Al-Muqattam," he explained. "But I work here, near the Wikala. So I closed my flat, and I'm still living in my room here."
Who, then, is responsible for the mess? 'Amm Ramadan pays LE1.25 a month for his room at the Wikala. If he moved to his flat in Al-Muqattam, he would lose time and money commuting to work every day. So tenants continue to occupy derelict monuments, often subletting from wealthy merchants who have no stake in preserving the edifices. In the meantime, legal technicalities and fund shortages complicate the problem still further.
Abdel-Gawwad is familiar with such situations, and with the obstacles to official intervention. He once filed a complaint with the SCA regarding a house in Al-Darb Al-Ahmar that had been damaged by the earthquake. "The dwelling, which is under the supervision of the Ministry of Awqaf, offered a perfect example of a 16th-century Cairene interior. The residents were provided with flats and made to leave. I urged for the renovation of the house, but nothing was done. In the end, the house was pulled down under the supervision of the Ministry of Awqaf," he explained.
So why does the SCA allow the demolition of such important monuments? Abdel-Gawwad believes that subletting may serve the interests of the Ministry of Awqaf, which can pressure the SCA to do nothing. Evacuating the residents may be another difficulty. At any rate, the ministry is now relinquishing many of its responsibilities, as indicated by the recent auctioning off of several monuments.
A trip to the Ministry of Awqaf in search of a department responsible for the preservation or registration of monuments proved futile. A consultant at the ministry's engineering administration explained: "There can be no such department, since it would be inconsistent with Shari'a. Furthermore, no rivalry between the SCA and the Ministry of Religious Endowments over historical monuments is admissible."
Why, then, do the two bodies not cooperate? "We used to contribute to reconstruction costs, but, as a trustee, I cannot use waqf money to reconstruct a monument that is worth five million pounds but is bringing in five pounds rent. If the SCA decided to undertake reconstruction, however, it would be able to obtain a permit for temporary evacuation."
Perhaps rental contracts could be cancelled, the tenants compensated and the monuments turned over to the SCA for restoration. "The law governing the relationship between the Ministry of Awqaf in its capacity as owner, and the tenants hiring the monument, is the same law governing other owner-tenant relations," explained the consultant. "The relation between the tenants and the monument itself is controlled by the SCA under the law for the protection of historical monuments. So if a tenant wishes to carry out maintenance, reconstruction or alterations in the monument he is renting, he must obtain the approval of the SCA and the work must be carried out under its supervision," he said.
Ottoman and Mameluke monuments, as well as prominent examples of 19th- and early 20th-century architecture, have been rented out for years. The consultant at the Ministry of Awqaf explained: "When these monuments were first rented out half a century ago, problems caused by sewage, or the additions tenants could make, were unknown." Other factors -- principally the shortage of funds and legal difficulties -- further contribute to the degradation of the monuments.
The destruction of Islamic Cairo is nothing short of a disaster. Nowhere else in the world is such a wealth of monuments concentrated in so small a space. Allowing these living testimonies to so many eras to simply crumble is tantamount to obliterating history. Abdel-Gawwad was saddened, but not resigned. "So much can be learned from these monuments of the bustling commercial life during the Ottoman and Mameluke periods. Wikalas could be used as hotels -- in a sense, the same function for which they were established in the first place. For many wikalas in the Gamaliya district -- for example, Wikalat Al-Saboun, Wikalat Al-Hasr in Rahbat Al-Eid Street and Wikalat Qawsoun in Bab Al-Nasr Street -- it is too late: the upper floors have already collapsed, and nothing remains of the buildings but the front gates. Still, others, like Wikalat Ouda Bashi, which is occupied mainly by shoe box and pickle manufacturers, coal merchants and coppersmiths, have lost only parts of their upper floors."
As far as Wikalat Al-Sharaibi is concerned, perhaps too many destinies are at stake. But the complex web of interests entwined around the edifice must be unraveled, if history is not to die.
