My Own Palace Walk

Right before I arrived to Cairo, I started reading Naguib Mahfouz’ book, Palace Walk, the first of a trilogy about a Cairo family, for which he won the Nobel Prize in 1988. What I most looked forward to doing in Cairo, was simply to wander the streets of the old Islamic quarter, where the Al Jawad family of Mahfouz’ books, live and work. I would spend 2 days by myself doing this. I wanted to walk every inch of the Islamic area, through each gate of the old city, then to the Coptic quarter, the Citadel, Al Azhar park and the City of the Dead. And that I did. Through my housemate and another friend at work in Nairobi, I had two friends living in Cairo who would meet me for dinner at night on Sunday and Monday (April 29 & 30th). But during the day, they worked (Friday and Saturday, but not Sunday, is the weekend there), which gave me the time during the day to explore exactly as I wanted.

I started on Sunday, by having the taxi let me out at the large mosque of Al-Azhar, where I put on a full robe and head scarf and walked inside to sit and gaze at the tiles of the courtyard and towers of the minarets. I was led up to the top of one minaret – the first of probably a half dozen over two days – by a man from the mosque who wanted a little baksheesh, or tip, afterwards – the first of probably two dozen tips I gave. From Al-Azhar mosque, I started to roam the streets. I noticed so many men sitting out at cafés and drinking tea while smoking the sheesha pipe, at any hour of the day, something not enjoyed by the women. I was fascinated by the young men walking through the streets with large boards on their shoulders, on which they carried loaves of pita, or trays held high over their heads, on which they carried glasses of tea – a delivery service that amazed me for the fact that more glasses did not drop and break in the crowded, tight quarters of Islamic Cairo. I discovered that almost each shop or café had a clay jug hanging on its outside front wall, with cups nearby, which the Egyptians would use to stop and drink water. As it has been for centuries, it is custom in Cairo to offer water to the public for free. This made me think of Kenya and how most do not have access to clean water – in Kisumu, less than 40% of the 500,000 people have access to safe, piped water!

I sat in the grassy area of the Midan el-Hussein, right in front of the Mosque of Hussein, which I could not go in as a woman. From there I wandered down the main street in the market area, Khan el-Khalili, past the perfume and spice bazaars, and then turned onto the street that is known as Palace Walk, in reference to Mahfouz’ book of the same name. I walked all the way to the northern gates of old city, and back again, through the southern gates to the Citadel, where the Mosque of Mohammed Ali, looms over Cairo. For two days I did this, from 8:30 to 5, stopping only to have a quick lunch of hummus, tahini and bread, or to go inside a few museums: the overwhelming large and packed Egyptian museum, which is most famous for its King Tut exhibit; the small and well-done Coptic Museum; and my favorite – the Gayer Anderson house, a small, quaint Islamic-styled house owned by a British major from the 1930s-40s that is packed with interesting artifacts.

I think I found myself inside every large mosque in Cairo. On the final day, I walked to the Al-Azhar park, recently built by the Aga Khan foundation. I sat for several hours in an outdoor restaurant at the top of this beautiful park, which gazes out across Cairo with a perfect view of the Citadel and Mohammed Ali mosque in the distance. There, I finished Mahfouz’ Palace Walk, as well as my own, and picked out my favorite passage from the book, the thoughts of the matriarch of the Al Jawad family, living as a virtual prisoner in her home, with only the view of Cairo from her rooftop to comfort her:

“She was awed by the minarets which shot up, making a profound impression on her. Some were near enough for her to see their lamps and crescent distinctly, like those of Qala’un and Barquq. Others appeared to her as complete wholes, lacking details, like the minarets of Al-Husayn, Al-Ghuri and Al-Azhar. Still other minarets were at the far horizon and seemed phantoms, like those of the Citadel and Rifa’i mosques. She turned her face towards them with devotion, fascination, thanksgiving and hope…It was a view that had grown on her over a quarter of a century. She never tired of it. The view had been a companion for her in her solitude and a friend in her loneliness…”

(Pictured: Looking out from a woman's balcony (where woman could see out, but no one could see in) at Gayer Anderson house; restaurant in the Al-Azhar park; view of the Citadel and Mohammed Ali mosque from Al-Azhar park)