6 - 12 September 2001
Issue No.550
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 6 - 12 September 2001 Issue No.550 |
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Withdrawn but not shy
A donkey popped out of a doorway of Shali in Siwa Oasis, hesitated, seemed to pose for a portrait, and I couldn't resisted focusing in on him. His image has been preserved, writes Amira El-Noshokaty
I was walking through the narrow streets which coil around the Siwa houses, those houses that lean on one another for support. It was early morning, and no one was about apart from one small donkey peeping through the doorway of his stable. After I had captured his image, I wandered uninterrupted for almost an hour until I was found by a group of Siwan girls in brightly coloured dresses. That was the end of my privacy. They ran in front of and behind me, giggling with delight, and I couldn't help but join in.
photo: Amira El-Noshokaty
Shali, "the town," dates from the 13th century. According to a Siwan manuscript written during the middle ages and regarded as the local history book, the ancient settlement in Siwa was subjected to repeated attacks by Berbers and Arabs which so diminished the population that eventually only 40 people -- belonging to seven different families -- remained. These survivors abandoned their settlement in search of more security, and moved into a fortified village which they built on a hill. They enclosed their new houses within a strong girdle wall with only one entrance. They called it Shali.
Today, Shali rises like a citadel in Siwa Oasis. When you near it, however, you will find no more than a maze of collapsing buildings, held together, or so it seems, just as clay adheres to a wooden armature. The houses were brought down by massive rainfall which dissolved the kershif -- a mixture of mud and salt -- with which the houses were built and which should have been, but was not, as strong as cement.
In about 1938, when the collapsing buildings meant it was no longer safe to live there, many inhabitants of the fortress were obliged to build new homes outside the walls. Some of the houses, though remain occupied today by families whose womenfolk weave distinctive baskets interlaced with orange and red threads. Young girls embroider small purses which children trade gleefully, and somewhat persistently, whenever they see a vulnerable tourist whose pockets look full.
I retraced my steps past the stable doorway but, unlike the children, the donkey had had enough of tourists and stayed in the shadows out of view.
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