24 - 30 May 2001
Issue No.535
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 24 - 30 May 2001 Issue No.535 |
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Love story
Four standing walls and a heap of bricks in the middle of a garbage dump. Can they represent an attractive proposition for anyone? Fayza Hassan finds out
Since the second half of the 19th century, Egyptian and foreign artists attracted by the beauty of Cairo, often chose the area behind the Citadel, known as Darb El-Labbana, to set up their studios. Many lived there permanently. Miro, Beppi Martin, Maridelle, Louise Claude Rainer, Qanaan as well as famous architect Hassan Fathi, are only a few prominent names that come to mind. The site, however, was gradually abandoned after the 1952 Revolution, and the quaint quarter slowly deteriorated, dragging in its downfall the celebrated Maison des Arts. An attractive 16th century building in Mameluke style, adorned with numerous original mashrabiyas and featuring splendidly painted ceilings, it was a favourite venue for the artists who enjoyed entertaining their visitors with glasses of delicious mint tea in the large reception room reserved to a permanent art exhibition. Many an art amateur vied for the honour and described the atmosphere as "typically Oriental in a secular setting." By the 1990s however and although it was rumoured for a while that Saddredin Khan had taken a personal interest in the erstwhile Maison des Arts, it had remained more or less abandoned, suffering, it was said, from severe structural deficiencies too costly to repair.
Gabrielle Kahil, a lover of Cairo's monuments, often spent time in Darb El-Labbana, imagining what the landscape had been 50 years ago and how it would be possible with a little imagination and effort to restore it to its old, charming state.
Top: profile of an alley in Darb El-Labbana by Mounir Canaan; above: the renovated stairs with their wrought iron banister
Opposite La Maison des Arts, across a huge informal car park, and immense mounds of refuse she noticed on one of her forays a mess of half fallen walls amid the rubble. On closer examination, she made out the foundations and four walls of a tall and narrow house. As she twisted her ankles trying to find out how much of the construction was still salvageable, her heart began to beat and she suddenly conceived the improbable project of buying the wreck and restoring it to its past status. "I had fallen in love with the stones," she explains. Inquiries led her to the owner of the ruin and after untold difficulties and many months of haggling and lengthy visits to the various governmental administrations, she finally became the legal owner of the damaged construction. Having accomplished this difficult feat, she could now contemplate at leisure the enormity of the task ahead, especially for a woman alone and with relatively limited financial means. Water and electricity connections, architectural blueprints, bricklayers, painters, carpenters had to be organised and paid for somehow. She set to work.
Two years after the momentous purchase, I was invited to take a look at her "little house behind the Citadel." We stopped the car near the roadside café, whose customers greeted Gabrielle like an old friend, and we walked through a narrow, winding alley. "This is it," she said suddenly, fumbling with a large key and a padlock. Raising my head I saw three storeys of nicely stuccoed walls featuring several large windows looming above. The vestibule was dark and a little musty. It was at the moment used by the workers to store their gear as well as serving as furniture repository for Gabrielle's finds: an old commode, a gilded large mirror, and several chairs cluttered the space. "I have not finished decorating this part of the house," she explained, leading me through narrow stone stairs decorated with a fine wrought iron banister. The afternoon sun was flooding the room at the top, lending a golden sheen to the wooden floor. The walls decorated with numerous old prints were painted a warm colour. Sofas, an old brass table and two large platforms with floor cushions positioned against the walls made for a delightful sitting arrangement. From the windows, I had a full view of La Maison des Arts and a little further, to the left the double minaret of the Akhour mosque raised its unique silhouette among many other impressive Mameluke and Ottoman constructions. It was a perfect "oriental snapshot." In fact, the entire house showcased Cairo's religious monuments: every window of the house served as a frame for at least one or two mosques.
The peace and quiet of the surroundings, the harmony of the décor were so powerful that I felt like stretching immediately on one of the large cushions thrown on the platform and spend the rest of the afternoon reading and dreaming the hours away, until it was time to climb to the terrace and watch the sun set.
Gabrielle had other plans however. We continued the visit. On the floor above a very different, but equally attractive living room had wooden floors and ceiling and included furniture in a mixture of Louis XV and Directoire styles. An ancient tapestry adorned one wall over the charming settee. On the small landing atop the stairs doors painted in dark green led to sparsely, but tastefully decorated bedrooms.
Next I was shown the kitchen, and two well appointed bathrooms, (a third one is in the making on the ground floor) the smaller one with a large window featuring a view of what the proud owner hoped would be a graceful little square one day, once the car owners had been convinced of the necessity to take their vehicles elsewhere. We then went up to the terrace, an addition to the original building, and the perfect place to entertain friends in the summer. As we looked at the breathtaking scenery, Gabrielle talked about the future. The car park would have to go of course and the garbage. She was working on the garbage now, going from door to door to instruct the dwellers of the surrounding houses to use plastic bags for their rubbish. She was even paying someone to come and collect the bags daily.
Gabrielle had recently bought the piece of land adjoining her house and was hoping to find enough money to landscape it. "We need greenery," she said. A quarter without a tree is a sad place." She also wanted to plant the square. I had noticed several flowering bougainvillea near the café and I agreed that they seem the right kind of vegetation for place. What about the rapport she entertained with her immediate neighbours? Did they not object to her presence and her interference in their affairs? After all she did look like a foreigner and they could object to the many friends who come to visit her, I asked. Gabrielle laughed. "You would not believe how nice everybody is around here," she told me. The neighbours had all become her friends and protectors; she felt safer here than in Zamalek. When she came home late in a taxi one of the inhabitants was invariably alerted and insisted to walk her up the alley, leaving only when he was reassured that she was safely inside.
Together with the dwellers of the neighbouring houses, she was trying to organise a sort of association which would be responsible for the cleanliness of the neighbourhood. Every one was very responsive. She had used workers from the area to rebuild the house and the architect in charge had taught them how to proceed with restoration work. Anyone following her example and buying in the vicinity would have a much easier time, she said. "And they can apply their newly acquired skills to fix their own homes," she added. No one likes to live in squalor if there is an alternative. All it takes is some know-how and initiative. Like anywhere else people here know the value of a clean environment and once they are taught how to go about it, they usually do it."
But Gabrielle has been stung by the bug of restoration. "I wonder, she says slowly, if I shouldn't rent this house, or even sell it and start all over again a bit further up the street. I just spotted the other day something that is crying to be taken care of." I look at her incredulously. She has not finished yet. The garden alone will take considerable effort, let alone money, to plant. At the moment, one is hard put to imagine trees and beds of flowers sprouting under the dust and rubble. She smiles. "I have learned a lot from this restoration," she says. It was not easy. We built walls, pulled down partitions, opened rooms and created windows. I had a good architect and in every case we respected the original design. I think this time around I'll be able to avoid many mistakes." On the other hand, she has become interested in the people around her. She knows their problems and understands their hardships. She would like more people to follow her scheme. This is one way of upgrading the old quarters, she explains. "I could not have had such a large and charming house anywhere in the chic quarters of Cairo. In exchange I try to improve conditions in the area. Everyone is happy."
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