Trail tracking
Snake charmer or reptile hunter?
Dena Rashed traces the tricky and sometimes fatal paths treaded by Egypt's hanashin
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Ali charming the snake in Luxor; cobras in Tolba's farm; snake hunter Tolba with the venomous cobra
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"Allahu Akbar, don't hurt me and I won't hurt you." Thus Mohamed Ali, one of Upper Egypt's older rifa'iya -- as snake charmers are known after the Sufi tariqa that now categorically disowns them. "This," he goes on to explain, "is only part of the oath that is read over the snake before it is charmed and caught." Ali is one of very few old-school rifa'iya, respected among hanashin (people who deal with snakes, be they charmers or hunters).
He is trusted and even revered throughout his locality in Luxor, where a neighbour volunteered to show us the way to him. Holding a lidded pot -- hidden in there are more snakes than anyone would guess -- Ali proceeds towards us, followed by the deaf boy who acts as his assistant. A cigarette between two fingers, he sits down on the floor to demonstrate his trade.
"I've been doing this business for almost 45 years, and I am the only person in the area who is trusted." Removing the lid, Ali begins to reveal the snakes he managed to lure out of people's houses. He is reluctant to explain how he first learned his trade, mentioning only the oath a rifa'i (sing. rifa'iya) must take when he embarks on his career. "The basic idea of the oath is a promise not to hurt the snake, so that it will not hurt you back," he elaborates. The rifa'iya, he supplies, are named after the great Egyptian Sufi Sheikh Ahmed Al-Rifa'i, the founder of the aforementioned tariqa whose shrine occupies centre stage in the Rifa'i Mosque.
Notwithstanding his reluctance, Ali's recollection of the first time he caught a snake provides an insight into the workings of snake charming: "The inhabitants of the house were complaining of a snake eating their pigeons, so I went over there and put my hands in the pigeon house. Sure enough, the snake was there, its slender body stuffed up with one of the pigeons, its jaws surrounding it. So it was unable to attack me, and I managed to pull it out with ease. That is the way it started." Evading the question of who taught him, Ali describes it simply as "a talent". He adds that it is his principal source of income: "I help people out, but at the same time I provide for five children, including this deaf son."
Despite his passion for the profession, none of his children have followed in his footsteps. "The problem is that they are scared of snakes," he testifies. "I keep the snakes at home in a special container in a separate room, and I warn them to keep away. So maybe none of my children will inherit the profession. As for my deaf boy, he is training with me, though I don't know if he will manage to do it without the gift of hearing."
Many years ago, Ali recalls, having been bitten by a snake, he was on the verge of death. "I lost a finger," he points to one hand with only four fingers. "I was in hospital for 15 days, but by God's will I recovered." But it was not his mistake, he contends: "I was lied to by the people who asked me to lure a snake out of the house," he remembers. "If people have already attacked the snake before calling for help, then I should be told, because then it is far more likely that the snake will hurt anyone who goes near it, even someone who recites the oath over it." On that occasion, he says, it was by hitting the snake twice, and failing to mention it, that the people he went to help betrayed him.
Although he is the victim of a snake bite, Ali remains a trusted rifa'i. "The man always offers his help," Zeinab Mohamed, a Luxor resident, testifies. "Sometimes he goes into houses simply to check if there are snakes hiding in there. He never lies about it. If there is a snake in the house he removes it, if not he simply leaves." With an abundance of greenery and a mountainous climate, Luxor houses are often subject to uncalled for visits by snakes.
Finding a true rifa'i in Cairo was rather more difficult, if not impossible. At the Friday Market, beyond Al-Imam Al- Shaf'ie, animals, including snakes, still figure among the enormous variety of mainly used merchandise on offer. The rifa'iya, most snake vendors at the market insisted, are a mere myth. Sami, one such vendor, started out selling fishing equipment.
Lately he has taken to buying non- venomous snakes from those peasants who manage to catch them and selling them to whoever happens to be interested. His seven-year-old son joins him. Sitting on a table holding the snake, the boy puts it in his mouth to impress fellow children. Sami knows little about snake charming or hunting, but he is convinced that rifa'iya do not exist. "These people could be conjurers or amateur hunters, or they could simply be conmen. They cannot be for real. The only real snake experts," he says, "are the snake trappers of Abu Rawash."
Sami demonstrates how harmless and simple it all is by wrapping the snake around or putting it in his pocket. "If I go into a house where there is a snake, how can you tell I'm not already hiding one in my pocket -- in order to claim that I've charmed it out of its hiding place." Other snake vendors at the market were by and large reluctant to talk, afraid that their reptiles might be confiscated by the Ministry of Environment, putting an end to their modest business. One older vendor who refused to mention his name insisted that rifa'iya no longer exist. All agreed that, while rifa'iya no longer exist, Abu Rawash remains the snake hunters' haven.
Once in Abu Rawash, ask for Tolba the snake hunter and you will immediately be led to the Tolba household, the most famous snake-hunting family in Egypt. In a room sparsely furnished with only a rug and a tablia, Said Tolba, his wife and three of his six children are having breakfast. Tolba has been a snake hunter for 35 years, and he too believes there is no such thing as a rifa'i. "There used to be true rifa'iya but that was a long time ago. Nowadays those who claim to be rifa'iya are crooks," he says. To Tolba the snakes vendors of the Friday market are intruders. "They certainly don't belong to our family. It would be a terrible shame if one of us stands in a market to sell snakes the way they do."
Most peasants, he explains, are capable of catching close on 100 non-venomous snakes in one week, each of which is worth LE3 or LE4. "It is cruel, the way they treat snakes in the market," he says. "Snakes should be kept either in their natural environment or in a place that simulates it, the way they are kept here. Holding a snake for hours on end, wrapping it around your hand or putting it in your pocket can only destroy its vital muscles, and the creature soon dies." Professionals, by contrast, never overdo their hunting, they keep their snakes in glass houses with lamps to help raise the temperature to the required degree during winter."
Of the hanashin, Tolba recognises only the hunters. "Hunting is an art and science unto itself," he says, "not for amateurs." Tolba proudly explains that snake hunting has been the career of members of the Tolba family for many generations. "I inherited this trade from my parents, who inherited it from theirs. All our children are interested in snakes trapping, but they are not allowed to hunt for venomous snakes -- the cobra, for example -- until they are 18."
One 13-year-old son practises what Tolba calls "easy hunting", the kind undertaken by the aforementioned peasants which involves not only non- venomous snakes but geckos and lizards. "After I finish the year at school, I spend the summer with my father learning to hunt the snakes," the little Tolba says. "Even the little girls come along with us," the father adds, "but mainly only on single-day trips. It would be difficult for them to stay overnight."
The Tolba family operates on several specific locations: south of Aswan, west of Marsa Matrouh all the way to Al- Saloum and, more importantly, Sinai. The hunting season starts on 1 April and continues to 30 September, the time during which snakes, which hibernate in winter, are present in their greatest numbers. Three to six hunters will go out on a trip, which starts at 6 am and ends at 10 am, "because snakes move mostly at night, and once the sun comes out, the trails can no longer be made out."
According to Tolba, snakes do not attack other creatures unless they feel threatened. "It might pass over your body while you camp out at night in the desert, and if you are asleep it won't bite you. But if you move in a way that offends or threatens it," he adds, "that's a different story." Unlike Mohamed Ali of Luxor, who perceives the snake as an enemy of humanity, Tolba wholeheartedly accepts snakes as humanity's companions on earth and has no scruples about dealing with them. Some Tolba family members work as lawyers or doctors, he says, but even they know how to hunt.
For those who dedicated their life to it, snake hunting has proved remarkably lucrative: "I could safely say this job provides financial security. At the same time it is a risky business, but despite the dangers I have never regretted being a snake hunter." The black cobra, worth LE500, is the most expensive snake the Tolba family sells; most venomous species range in price from LE200 to LE300, though some cost as little as LE50 or LE20, while the price of non-venomous varieties ranges from LE10 to LE25.
"Today we make more money because more research centres have been established, with many more researchers requiring reptiles." They, it would seem, make up Tolba's greatest concentration of clients. "Our job is to supply them with the number of reptiles they need, be it snakes, lizards, or whatever they want from the wild." Out of the world's 2, 700 species of snake, Said hunts 40 in Egypt, as well as 51 species of lizard and gecko.
Said's brother, Tal'at, explains that the family has signed contracts with research centres and universities by which they are bound to provide reptiles. "We trap more snakes than we need in the summer, in order to make sure we would be able to supply enough in the winter, when not as many can be caught."
Said Tolba's snake farm -- a kind of mini zoo in which he keeps and breeds the reptiles -- is a five-minute drive away from his house. Many animals besides snakes can be found there -- wolves, a fox, lizards, wild cats, an owl, a hyena and ostriches, as well as the rats and mice used to feed the snakes.
As they demonstrate their skill with the cobra, Said and Tal'at explain that it is the art of hunting that they enjoy the most. The profession is not just about the physical act of following, drawing out and trapping the snake, it is about the personality of the hunter. "I have all sorts of snake encyclopaedias. I never stop reading about the different kinds of snakes, it all helps in the trapping. But trappers still need to have a strong personality, to be courageous and fearless," he adds. "From seeing its trail alone, I can find out a great deal about a snake: its breed, its age, the speed and direction in which it has moved and its probable location."
The Tolbas elaborated further: when the zigzag of the trail is narrow, this is an indication that the snake has been tired and progressing slowly, and would be easier to trap; the way to hold a cobra is different from that of holding a torisha. To trap a cobra, Said explains, "you have to close its jaws, but to control a torisha, you must open them, because unlike the cobra the torisha has a long fang through which its venom can still reach your hand even after you close them."
Said claims that no one working with him has ever died of a snake bite. The incident he still grieves for does not concern a snake at all. It was while trapping snakes in Suez in 1987 that it happened. "We divided ourselves into two groups, the second group included my brother, brother-in-law, cousin and uncle. Having followed a trail, they were searching in a hole for a snake when a landmine exploded, killed every one them," he remembers. "A very unexpected catastrophe, and nothing to do with the trade."
