Hussein

I sat at the curb of the dusty pavement amongst many others as the call for Maghrib rang the air. As the people scattered in an oddly organised way towards the mosque to pray in congregation, I couldn't help but think that there were certain elements of this society that hadn't changed since I was born here and more strangely, since the times of the pharaohs. Behind me were the alleyways that led to the market place designated to curtains and similar things. There, busy mums and newlyweds went about their way in choosing the perfect pair of curtains for their homes , not aware of the hustle and bustle surrounding them , unlike me. It had probably been just more than a decade since my mum and I walked these streets on a regular basis before I had traveled to England. It was because of this fact, that I had such a great appreciation for this moment.

We were at the mosque of Hussein, the son of the fourth Islamic Caliph, Ali ibn Abu Talib. The mosque stood great with its minarets as a symbol of protection for this building that had stood here for centuries. The surrounding areas were filled with Egyptian nationals and foreigners alike, each with their own agendas. The familiar narrowness of the alleyways had served to be exactly like those of the typical alleyways I would see in the films and magazines depicting Egypt. Shop owners and enthusiastic assistants had demonstrated an array of languages as they tried their utmost to entice the foreigners to their stall. The look of triumph when successful in doing this was worth a thousand words, as if their momentary purpose in life was fulfilled. Their hard work had paid off. The souvenirs were plentiful and colourful from shisha stands, glass pyramids to the piles of papyrus, adorned with paintings of Egyptian pharaohs from long ago.At every turn , a teenage boy would aim at selling you a glass of dodgy looking lemonade that I would have to politely turn down. This, it seemed, did not discourage him ,as I would see him again half an hour later, this time silently giggling to myself at the irony.


The smell of the spices being sold at the markets mixed with the smell of stale smoke assailed my senses at a rate greater than I expected it to, at times causing me to sneeze uncontrollably. Young children ran about , in joyful ignorance of their surroundings. At times, I was so lost in this atmosphere I held so dear and missed greatly that I forgot the multitude of sound surrounding me. It was a strange sight , the great tourist buses alongside the infamous Egyptian cab , both trying to head to their destinations as quickly as possible. The backdrop to this was the mosque and the markets that occupied the other side of the road. As strange as the picture looked , I would not have had it any other way.


The time for prayer had now ended as the imam completed the final section of the prayer. This was signalled in two ways, both as manifest as the other. The first was the fact that I could hear it, as was common in so many Muslim countries. The second was the swarm of worshippers that were now leaving the mosque and returning to their lives, once again, as they did five times a day.


The scene was so spectacularly busy that words would not suffice in narrating what I felt as I sat there. It was as if I was lost in two periods of time, two ages, two segments of my life that I could not succeed in piecing together. The old Cairo was as vivid and present as the new Cairo that was emerging. The Cairo I called home when in my infancy was still lingering and had not made itself difficult to find even amongst this new Cairo that tried its hardest to attract those from beyond its confines. The people were still as warm as they were; regardless of the possessions they called their own. It was this Cairo that had, simultaneously attracted visitors, old and young, familiar and unfamiliar. It was this part of Cairo that had held on to the realities of its past, by being obedient to the act of the call to prayer, never hastening or delaying - carrying out its duties to the worshipping masses. Ultimately, it was a part of Egypt that did what Egypt did best -exist in silent grandeur while it attracted, served and welcomed the company surrounding it.