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Project Summary: This project aimed to reuse a heritage residential house that was built somewhere between 1830-1850 in al-Darb al-Ahmar, Cairo. It currently contains informal workshops and storage for local leather products. Adaptive reuse of heritage cannot be only limited to the conservation of the authentic features, but also it includes within its scope surrounding urban development. Thus, it was necessary to adapt the building to house a new function that not only helps generate sufficient revenue for its maintenance, but also helps ameliorating the socio-economic and environmental status of its surrounding local community. The proposed new function is a Community Center. Its spaces are to be rented to local non-governmental organizations to house their events, courses, workshops, galleries and educational classes. The aim is to use the building’s spaces to create a busy functional center for the community in order to learn, think, and produce.
مشروع تطوير وإعادة استخدام منزل بدرب الصياغ
فريق العمل من الاكاديمية العربية للعلوم والتكنولوجيا والنقل البحري: محمد مبارك، كريم سمير، معتز عزيز، إيمان اللواء، وليد شحاتة
المنزلان رقم 5 و7 فى درب الصياغ كانا فى الأصل منزلا واحدا تم بناؤه على الطراز العثمانى ما بين الأعوام 1830 و1850 فى الدرب الأحمر بالقاهرة. وقبل أن يتوفى المالك بفترة قصيرة، قام بتحويل العقار إلى وقف. الكثير من غرف المنزل تحمل دلائل على أصالته، بالذات الأسقف الخشبية المزدانة بالنقوش العثمانية. وقد تم تقسيم المنزل إلى منزلين فى الفترة 1870-1880 وفتحت به بوابة أخرى على الشارع. وفى أوائل القرن العشرين، تمت إضافة طابقين آخرين وأعيد تقسيم المنزل لسكنى عدد أكبر من الأسر. وقد استخدم المنزل كعقار سكنى حتى سبعينات القرن الماضى، وبعد ذلك تمت إزالة الطابق العلوى وظل الطابقين السفليين يستخدمان كورش وأماكن تخزين للمنتجات الجلدية. والآن فإن عناصر المبنى الأصلية قد عانت من التدهور بسبب نقص الصيانة. فقد اختفت الأسقف الخشبية مثلا وراء مساحات التخزين، كما أن النوافذ الخشبية تم استبدالها بشيش من النوع الردىء. أما الحلى التى تحيط بالأبواب ققد ساءت حالتها بشدة، وظهرت فى الجدران شقوق إنشائية عديدة
والآن فإن المبنى يعانى من التدهور من جوانب عدة ولا يتطابق استخدامه مع قيمته او النواحى الجمالية به. وبسبب موقعه المركزى فى حى الدرب الأحمر، فإن “مؤسسة الأغاخان للثقافة” قررت ضمه إلى خططها التنموية فى الحى بأكمله
تقوم خطط “الأغاخان” لتنمية الدرب الأحمر على الحفاظ على المبانى التراثية من خلال تعديلها لاستخدامات بديلة. ويعتبر الاستخدام المعدل للبمانى التاريخية أحد الطرق الرامية للحفاظ على التراث، حيث لا يتضمن فقط تغيير وظيفة المبنى من أجل توليد عائد كاف لصيانته، بل إنه أيضا يساعد على تحسين الحالة الاجتماعية والاقتصادية والبيئية للمجتمع المحلى المحيط. وكانت الخطوة الأولى التى قامت بها “الأغاخان” هى تعويض المقيمين فى المنزل مقابل مغادرتهم له. تلت ذلك إزالة الإنشاءات الدخيلة والإضافات غير الأصلية من أجل الكشف عن النسيج الأصلى له. وقد توقف المشروع عند هذه المرحلة انتظارا لخطط التجديد.
وقد شرعت “الأغاخان” فى الاتصال بالمساهمين المحتملين فى المشروع من المجتمع المحلى والأكاديميين والمسؤولين الحكوميين من أجل العمل بشكل فعال على المشروع. وفى لمسة من التعاون المشترك ما بين “الأكاديمية العربية للعلوم والتكنولوجيا والنقل البحرى” و”مؤسسة الأغاخان للثقافة” فى مصر، تم تقديم مقترحات لإعادة الاستخدام من قبل طلاب الماجستير فى التصميم فى قسم الهندسة المعمارية والتصميم البيئى. وكانت الأسئلة الرئيسية التى تم طرحها هى: كيف يمكنك أن تجعل السكان المحليين يدخلون المبنى ويتعرفون على تراثهم؟ كيف تقوم بتحقيق أكبر المزايا الاقتصادية والثقافية بشكل مباشر وفى خلال قيامك مساعدة المجتمع المحلى؟ وكيف تحقق كل من الأهداف السابقة مع دعوة الناس من خارج الدرب الأحمر للمساهمة فى عملية تطوير المبنى؟
خلال فترة البحث، قام فريق التصميم بدراسة ما يحدث فى منطقة المبنى، حيث لاحظ أن هناك أكثر من 60 منظمة غير حكومية فى الدرب الأحمر. أكثر من 15 منظمة غير حكومية كانت تنشط فى المجالات الاجتماعية، وبعض تلك المنظمات كانت تستهدف تقديم خدمات بسعر رخيص – مثل الإسكان والصحة – لأهالى الحى، بينما كان البعض الآخر عبارة عن منظمات انتاجية (تصنع منتجات مثل الجلود والمنسوجات والهدايا التذكارية) أو تعمل فى المجالين فى الوقت ذاته. بعد مقابلة الكثير من مجالس المنظمات غير الحكومية، لوحظ أن معظم تلك المنظمات تشكو من نقص الأماكن التى يمكنهم العمل بها، حيث كانت تلك المنظمات تبحث عن مساحات تقيم فيها ورشها وتعقد بها اجتماعاتها وحلقاتها الدراسية والتدريبية وأيضا معارض تبيع فيها منتجاتها. بالإضافة إلى هذا، أتضح أن تلك المنظمات ليس لديها القدرة على ترويج أنشطتها ومنتجاتها خارج المدينة القديمة. لذا تم التخطيط لنشاط جديد هو “المركز الاجتماعى”، يتضمن تحويل المبنى إلى وحدات متعددة للإيجار للمنظمات غير الحكومية. وسوف يتم تأجير أماكن مجهزة يمكن استخدامها فى مختلف الأنشطة. بالإضافة إلى هذا، فإن “الفناء الغربى” سوف يتم تحويله إلى “مقهى” محلى بغرض التأجير
الفكرة هنا هى أن المجتمع المحلى سوف يتمكن من استخدام مساحات المبنى فى الاجتماعات والتعلم والتفكير والانتاج. فى مثل هذا المشروع، هناك ثلاثة جوانب يمكنها أن تضمن استدامته، وهى الجانب البيئى والجانب الاجتماعى-الثقافى والجانب الاقتصادى
الفوائد البيئية التى يتضمنها تعديل مبنى تراثى لإعادة الاستخدام تتلخص فى توفير الطاقة من خلال “إعادة تدوير” المبنى. من خلال تعديل المبنى بشكل يسمح بإعادة الاستخدام، يتم توفير الطاقة والمواد والقوى العاملة اللازمة لإنشاء مبنى جديد، وبهذا فإن تعديل هذا المبنى وإعادة استخدامه يفيد الجوانب البيئية فى مدينة القاهرة. وفى وسع مشروعات التعديل وإعادة الاستخدام لمبان تراثية أن تؤدى إلى تحسين ظروف البيئة فى الأحياء التاريخية. أما زيادة القيمة الإيجارية والنواحى الجمالية التى يتضمنها تطوير هيكل قديم فهى عادة ما تشجع أعضاء المجتمع المحلى المحيط بالقيام بنفس الشىء وبتجديد مبانيهم المتدهورة من أجل تحسين أوضاعهم بشكل عام
يمكن للمبانى التراثية أن تلعب دورا معينا فى الحى أو المدينة كلها، من جهة أن الأهالى قد يحسون بالتعلق بها بشكل أو بآخر. البعض يسمى تلك العلاقة فخرا أو هوية … وهى كلها أمور تدعم “الإحساس بالمكان”. فالقيمة الكبرى التى يحملها الطوب والمونة القديمة هى فى تلك العلاقات مع البشر. يهدف مشروع تطوير المبنى 5 و7 فى درب الصياغ إلى إبراز تلك العلاقات من أجل تحقيق نتائج مستدامة على المستوى الاجتماعى والاقتصادى. وأكبر المكاسب الاجتماعية والاقتصادية فى إعادة استخدام المبنى كمركز اجتماعى هى من خلال تفاعل الناس معه وبداخله. بما أن المبانى هى مرآة للناس الذين يعيشون فيها، فإن التفاعل مع المبانى الكلاسيكية يعطى الناس فرصة للتعرف على الطريقة التى عاش بها أجدادهم ونوعية الحياة التى جعلتهم يبنون مبانيهم على هذا النحو
بالإضافة إلى هذا، فإنه من خلال تأجير تلك المساحات للتدريب الحرفى والمحاضرات، فإن المبنى سوف يساعد على ربط الناس بالنماذج الثقافية والاقتصادية الموجودة فى هذا الحى التراثى بالقاهرة. فى الماضى كان الدرب الأحمر مركزا لصناعة المنتجات الجلدية فى القاهرة. هذا الأمر لا يعنى هذا ضرورة إحياء تلك الصناعة من جديد، وإنما يعنى ضرورة إحياء ذكرى تلك الصناعة من خلال التأكيد على أهميتها فى حياة الأجيال السابقة التى عاشت وعملت فى هذا الحى. تلك العلاقة بين الناس والمبنى قد تؤدى إلى زيادة الوعى بالقيم الاجتماعية والثقافية وتساعد على الحفاظ على الهوية للأجيال القادمة
أما عن الاستدامة الاقتصادية، فإن البرنامج قد تم تطويره على أساس إقامة شركة خاصة لإدارة المشروع تتولى ترتيبات التأجير وتقديم المعدات والعمالة المساعدة والخدمات الأمن والنشر والتجارة والصيانة، بالإضافة إلى الإدارة العامة، مع العلم بأن إدارة هذا المكان ليست بالأمر الهين. وسوف تقوم الشركة الخاصة بتحديث بيانات المنظمات غير الحكومية العاملة بالمكان على نحو منتظم، وذلك من أجل أن تتخذ قرارات صائبة حول التأجير لمنظمات معينة تقوم بالفعل بسد حاجات المجتمع وتتمتع بالسمعة الحسنة. ويعد التنافس بين المنظمات غير الحكومية أمرا ضروريا من أجل زيادة قيمة الأماكن المؤجرة وأيضا ضمان استمرار الطلب على تلك الأماكن. كما أن “المقهى” يمكنه أن يساعد على جذب السكان المحليين إلى المبنى. ولكن لابد من بذل مجهود أكبر فى النشر، لذا فإن تلك الشركة سوف تعمل على تسويق نفسها بصفتها مساحة عرض للمنتجات الحرفية لمن يعيشون خارج محيط الأحياء التاريخية. والربح الذى تولده الشركة سوف يعتمد أساسا على مصدرين: الإيجارات وجزء من عائد بيع المنتجات المعروضة
تنقسم المساحات التى يتم تأجيرها إلى نوعين رئيسيين: مساحات تخصص للمعارض والورش، ومساحة “المقهى”. وسوف يستخدم العائد الاقتصادى فى تمويل أعمال الصيانة وسد تكاليف إدارة المشروع، بالإضافة إلى تحقيق هامش ربح للشركة التى تدير المكان. وبهذا فإن على الشركة أن تتأكد من أن المبنى بأكمله يتبع معايير تمكنه من تحقيق هدفين متزامنين، هما جذب الزبائن وتبرير القيمة الإيجارية المطلوبة
للأسف الشديد، فإنه بعد أن قامت “الأغاخان” بإنهاء مشاريعها فى مصر بسبب المشاكل الأمنية التى أعقبت الثورة المصرية فى الفترة 2011-2012، تم الاستيلاء على المبنى حيث يستخدم فناؤه حاليا كاسطبل للخيول بينما تحولت مساحاته الداخلية إلى ورش وأماكن تخزين
والحقيقة هى أنه إلى جانب هذا المبنى، هناك الكثير من المبانى التراثية فى القاهرة التاريخية ليست مستغلة تماما أو بالمرة، أو يساء استخدامها، وهى تعانى من التعديات غير الرسمية والإهمال. وليس هناك حتى أى توثيق شامل متاح لتلك الأبنية التراثية التى لا تعتبر أبنية تاريخية فى مصر. وأوضحت الأحداث الأخيرة فى مصر أن محاولات التدخل التراثية غير الشاملة قد فشلت فى ظروف عدم الاستقرار الحالية. تلك المبانى لها قيمة بالغة فى التنمية العمرانية ويجب إدماجها فى خطط عمرانية مفصلة للتخطيط العمرانى وخرائط استخدام المساحات. والأهم من هذا أنها يجب أن تحظى بدعم المجتمع المحيط بها. والاستمرار فى اهمال المبانى التراثية هو أمر يهدد بفقدان فرصة عظيمة للإرتقاء بالبيئة العمرانية المتدهورة وتنمية المجتمعات المهمشة والمحرومة والتى يعيش فيها الكثير من السكان
Student project at the Arab Academy for Science, Technology & Maritime Transport. Team: Mohammed Mubarak, Karim Samir, Moataz Aziz, Eman Ellewah, Waleed Shehata
5 & 7 Darb el Soyagh had been originally one Ottoman house that was built somewhere between 1830 and 1850 in al-Darb al-Ahmar, Cairo. Shortly before the owner had passed away, he had the house gifted to the system of Endowment. Many of the house rooms’ stand as proof of its authenticity, especially the wooden ceilings decorated with Ottoman engravings. The house was divided into two houses between the years 1870-1880, adding its second street entrance. In the early 20th century, the second and a third floors were built, and the houses were divided to accommodate more families. The house was only used as rented residential spaces till the 70’s. Afterwards, the third floor was demolished leaving only ground and first floors, and the building has been running as informal workshops and storages for local leather products. Today, the building’s authentic elements had suffered major deterioration symptoms and lacked proper maintenance. For example, the wooden ceilings were covered with storages; the wooden windows were replaced by shack-louvers, door architraves were severely damaged, not to mention structural cracks. Currently, the building shows multiple obsolescence symptoms, and its use is not compatible with its value, or with its physical morphology. Due to its central location in al-Darb al-Ahmar’s district, the house was spotted by the Aga Khan trust for Culture to be of a potential value to their development plans for the whole district.
The Aga Khan’s development plans for al-Darb al-Ahmar’s district depended on conserving heritage buildings through adapting them for reuse. Adaptive reuse of heritage buildings is one of many conservation approaches; a one that not only change the function of the building to help generate sufficient revenue for its maintenance, but also helps ameliorating the socio-economic and environmental status of its surrounding local community. As a first step of the project, the Aga Khan compensated the building occupiers to leave. They removed intruding structures and non-authentic additions to uncover the original fabric. The project stopped at this stage awaiting for renovation plans.
The Aga Khan started to communicate with multiple stakeholders, community members, academics and government officials in order to work effectively on the project. As a joint cooperation between the Arab Academy for Science and Maritime Transport and the Aga Khan trust for culture in Egypt, adaptive reuse proposals were made by the students in the Design Masters course, in the Department of Architectural Engineering and Environmental Design. Main questions were generated: How to make local inhabitants enter the building and get to know about their heritage? How to directly achieve the highest economic and cultural benefits, and support for the local community? and how to achieve both previous goals while inviting people from outside al-Darb al-Ahmar to be involved in what will be happening in the building?
During research phase, the design team investigated on ground occurring actions and noticed that there are more than sixty local non-governmental organizations in al-Darb al-Ahmar. More than fifteen NGOs had been active in the society; some of these NGOs work on providing affordable services –such as education and health care- for local community members, or are productive organizations (manufacturing products such as leather, cloth and souvenirs) or work on both activities simultaneously. After interviewing many of the active NGOs’ boards, most of these NGOs reported lack of enough spaces for their activities to take place; and they strive for appropriate and equipped spaces for workshops, meetings, events, seminars, crafts training, courses, educational classes and galleries to sell their products. In addition, they lacked appropriate means to publicize their work and products outside the old city. So, the new function that was entitled: Community Center planned to convert the building into rentable multi-use spaces for local NGOs. Equipped spaces would be rented as multipurpose rooms. In addition, the Western Courtyard is planned to be converted into a local Cafe’, and to be rented as a local cafe’. The aim is that local community would use the building’s spaces; to meet… learn… think… and produce. The project depended on three pillars of sustainability: Environmental, socio-cultural, an economic sustainability.
The environmental benefits of adapting heritage building for reuse can be summarized in saving energy by “recycling” the building. Adapting existing structure for reuse saves energy, materials and manpower needed for new constructions, thus adapting this building for reuse work for the greener Cairo. Heritage adaptive reuse projects are also known to push forward environmental upgrading efforts in historic districts. The increase in rental values and aesthetic upgrading of old fabric usually encourage surrounding community members to do the same, and to refurbish their deteriorated buildings to improve their architectural and structural conditions.
Heritage buildings had once served a specific purpose in the neighborhood or the whole city to which people, in one way or another, were connected. Some name this relationship neighborhood pride, identity… but they all redirect us to the term: “sense of place”. What really give meaning to old brick and mortar are those relationships with humans. 5 & 7 Darb el Soyagh rehabilitation project worked on highlighting those relationships to reach socio-cultural sustainability outcomes. Socio-cultural benefits of reusing the building as a community center can be the outcome of people’s interaction within its spaces. Since buildings are manifestation of the people who lived in them, interaction with classical building gives people some clues about how did their grandparents lived, and what sort of life did they have to build this building the way it looks. In addition, by renting spaces for craft training and lectures, the building would be helping in connecting people to traditional cultural and economic patterns of Cairo’s heritage district; once before, al-Darb al-Ahmar was the center of leather-products industry in Cairo. This does not mean rejuvenating this industry again, instead, to build-up the memory of this industry by emphasizing its importance in the lives of previous generations who lived and worked in this district. The relationship between people and the building lead to increase of awareness about socio-cultural values and helps preserving identity for future generations.
As to economic sustainability, the program was developed to build up a private ownership company to run the building in terms of scheduling space rentals, providing equipment and assistant staff, control and security, publications and commerce, maintenance, in addition to general managerial programs. Keeping this place running is not an easy task. On one hand, the privately owned company shall update their database of local NGOs on regular basis in order to take mindful decisions about renting to certain NGOs that truly satisfy community needs, thus gain success and good reputation about their activities. Rivalry and sense of competitiveness among the local NGOs is necessary to make the spaces of a high rent value and to ensure the ever existing demand for spaces. On the other hand, the local Cafe’ would partially work on attracting surrounding residents and community members to enter the building. But more effort for publication will definitely be needed; so this company shall work on marketing itself as a showcase gallery of handicrafts products to people living outside the skirts of the historic districts. This company’s profit would mainly depend on two sources: collected space rentals and partial revenues of sold products that were exhibited in it. Rented spaces are divided into two main categories, spaces for exhibition, galleries, and workshops; and the cafe’. Economic revenues shall partially satisfy the maintenance and running costs of the project, as well as achieving financial benefit margin for the management company. So it lies within the company’s responsibility, to ensure that the whole building follows certain standards to both: attract customers and upkeep its rental market value.
Sorrowfully, after the Aga Khan had terminated their projects in Egypt and during security problems after the Egyptian Revolutions in 2011-2012, the building had been taken over; its courtyard is now a stable for horses and its spaces contains workshops and storages. The fact is that along with this building, many heritage buildings in Historic Cairo are currently disused-misused and underused; and suffer informal encroachments and neglect. There is even no comprehensive documentation available for non-historic heritage buildings in Egypt. The latest events in Egypt shows that non-comprehensive heritage intervention approaches prove failure during the currently unstable country conditions. These buildings are assets for urban development that shall be integrated in detailed urban plans and land use maps and, most importantly, shall gain community’s support. Keeping on neglecting non-historic heritage buildings will lead to missing great opportunities for upgrading our deteriorated urban environment and developing the large population of deprived and marginalized communities.
One of the corners of the recently restored historic pavilion of Mohamed Ali in Shubra, has collapsed. A 55 million Egyptian Pound ($9 million) restoration took place 7 years ago and the building was “reopened” to much fanfare. In reality the “restoration” was a botched job using cheap materials (including low quality paint) and utilizing the services of contractors inexperienced in historic preservation/conservation. The Ministries of Antiquity and Culture both have a dismal record when it comes to successful restoration work and have failed to protect much of Egypt’s heritage under their auspices. Often “restoration” projects such as this become excuses for public funds to be squandered by officials, consultants and construction firms. A recent fiasco at Ministerli Palace in Manial revealed how corrupt the system is when scaffolding was put up, closing the palace for years, only to be removed after the beginning of the revolution revealing that no work had been conducted.
It is important to note that in 2009, after the pavilion “restoration,” rare paintings of members of the Mohamed Ali family were stolen from the Shubra Pavilion and the incident received nearly no press coverage and no officials were held responsible. This predates the theft of the Van Gogh painting from another Ministry of Culture museum in 2010.
The Mohamed Ali Shubra Pavilion is a unique structure combining late Ottoman, French and Italian as well as Egyptian influences in its odd design centered around a pool with an island and seating areas around its perimeter.The square building was a separate structure built in 1820 near a Shubra Palace which was built in 1912 by architect Pascal Coste and which was located along the Nile in Shubra and had been destroyed by its owner in the 1930s. Samir Raafat has the complete story:
Marveled by all who visited it during his reign, Mohammed Ali’s Shubra Pavilion consists of an artificial marble-lined pool with as a whimsical centerpiece, an elaborate octagonal Carrara marble balustrade surrounding a fountain-islet sporting marble statuettes; the whole resting atop 24 raised marble crocodiles spraying water out of their menacing jaws.
Surrounding the pool is a raised wide square gallery fronted by moresque wrap-around veranda with 104 slender load-bearing bronze-based marble colonnades.
Overlooking the pool from the interior of the gallery are 112 low-lying windows with bronze railings.
The gallery built in wood and plaster has four corner salons (diwans or kiosks). As though standing sentinel on these salons are four water-spouting marble lions.
Not unlike the interiors of contemporary palaces built in the Citadel complex including the Bijoux Palace (1814), the Harem Palace built in 1827 (now military museum) and the Daftarkhana (1828), the Shubra palace and its annexes included a melange of styles ranging from faux oriental to gaudy European.
[The central pool area of the pavilion, the corner which collapsed is one of the four partial dome structures such as the one shown in the background of this image]
[to see the pavilion in action, click on the above screen shot to watch a scene from the film Cairo 30, which depicts a party taking place in the pavilion in the early part of the twentieth century]
Although the collapse took place around July 2012 news of the disaster has been muted. An investigative report was published by Al Ahram months later and another critical piecewas posted on the news site Masress. More recently the story was published in the heritage news section of Al-Rawi, Egypt’s heritage review magazine.
The piece posted on Masress is particularly important because it puts the Shubra disaster in within a larger context of corruption by officials in the ministries of culture and antiquities.
د. عبد الفتاح البنا الأستاذ بكلية الآثار جامعة القاهرة يري أن انهيار احدي القباب التي تغطي أحد القاعات الركنية بسرايا الفسقية بقصر محمد علي بشبرا بعد أقل من 6 سنوات من استلام القصر من مقاول الترميم بتكلفة معلنة 55 مليون جنيه يضاف إليهم ماهو غير معلن من أعمال تكميلية قد تتخطى هذا الرقم، هي بمثابة كارثة ولن تكون الحادث الوحيد بل سيتكرر ذلك كثيرا ولن ننسي منذ أربعة أشهر ما جري لشارع المعز لدين الله الفاطمي الذي غرقت آثاره في “المجاري” وكم السرقات التي تحدث جهارا نهارا لوحدات أثرية بالمساجد والدور والأسبلة الإسلامية وكل هذا يجعلنا في إطار حملتنا ضد الفساد في الآثار بصدد فتح ملف مشروعات ترميم الآثار خاصة ما كان في حوزة السجين “أيمن عبد المنعم” وزملائه سواء من سجن معه أومن هم مازالوا طلقاء لم تقتص منهم العدالة حتى وقتنا هذا !! لاسيما وأن حواس وغيره تغنوا بإنجازاتهم المزيفة في وقت كان الفساد والزيف هو السمة السائدة.
صندوق التنمية الثقافية أو “مغارة على بابا ” في وزارة الثقافة كما يطلق عليه د. عبد الفتاح البنا، كان يتولاه أيمن عبد المنعم، هذا الشاب اليافع الذي تحول لمليونير خلال سنوات قليلة، ويتردد أن الشركة التي اتهم بتقاضي رشوة منها بأعمال الديكورات فيها وتأثيثها بأثاث جيد، شمل قطعا من السجاد الإيراني وتحفا نفيسة، هو كان المسئول عن مشروع تطوير القاهرة التاريخية، ورسميا تولى أيمن عبد المنعم إدارة صندوق التنمية الثقافية الذي يسمونه بالإضافة إلى أكثر من 10 مشروعات أثرية أخرى.
In 2009 the Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale in Cairo published a two-volume book by Istvan Ormos on the life and career of an important figure in modern Egyptian history and Cairo’s history: Max Herz Pasha.
Max Herz “was born in Hungary, studied in Hungary and Austria, spent his active life in Egypt, died in Switzerland and is buried in Italy.” Ormos’ extensive research pieces together the life and career of this exceptional personality so central to the study, conservation and documentation of Islamic and Coptic architectural heritage in Cairo following his first visit to Egypt in 1880.
In 1881 Herz was employed as a draftsman by Franz Pasha, the director of the Technical Office of the Ministry of Religious Endowments (Waqf) and was later appointed as engineer. Herz subsequently held several positions including director of the Arab Museum in 1892 (Islamic Art Museum) and in 1901 became director of the Comité de Conservation des Monuments de l’Art Arabe. Throughout his career in Egyptian civil service Herz developed a reputation that led him to being honored with the title Bey in 1895 and later Pasha in 1912.
From the middle of the 19th century Cairo was undergoing mass modernization efforts and the Ministry of Public Works sought to improve the hygiene and safety of the city. In some cases this called for the demolition of historic buildings and monuments because they were structurally unstable (and therefore posed a safety threat to communities). What is important to remember here, and this is something the author explains at some length, is that the decision to demolish buildings that posed a threat even if they are several hundred years old, reveals a different conception of urban memory. The concept of “monument,” the author tells us, was a recent European conception where buildings were seen as carriers of memory. There are ancient monuments in Egypt that belong to past civilization and which were not part of daily life in the 19th century, such as the ancient temples or pyramids for example. However, in Cairo antique buildings, from the medieval period for example, were lived and used in daily life, unlike monuments of a more distant past. Therefore the concept of preserving buildings that may be posing a threat or are no longer fulfilling their functions, or are in the way of modernizing urban projects was relatively new. Hence the significance of Herz Pasha in saving many of Cairo’s ailing historic buildings by restoring and rebuilding, in addition to documenting and studying buildings that would have been erased by turn-of-the-century modernizers (as happened in many European capitals earlier).
[Left: The central court of the Maridani mosque after restoration; Right: same space before restoration]
[Left: Aqmar mosque facade in 1901; Right: Aqmar mosque facade after restoration]
Take for example the minarets above the famous Bab Zuwayla. What we see today is in fact the product of restoration and rebuilding supervised by Herz Pasha. Until the 1890s the tops of the minarets had been destroyed. Another example is the Aqmar Mosque (1125) which was reconstructed with particular attention given to the facade, which was later replicated in the Coptic Museum. St Mercury’s church (known as Abu l-Sayfayn), St Sergius (Abu Sarga), St Barbara (Sitt Burbara) are among the Coptic monuments restored under his supervision. The Maridani Mosque (1340) was in ruins before the Comité team arrived and rebuilt it. Sultan Barquq complex, Al-Azhar and many other mosques around the city were restored under the helm of Herz but his most significant work was on the Sultan Hassan Mosque (1356), Cairo’s iconic Mamluk monument for which he produced a monograph in 1899. Furthermore, many buildings lining the historic and now popular Muiz Street were missing domes, minarets or were near collapse due to the rise of the water table under that part of the city, however what we see today is in fact largely due to the works of restoration carried out a century ago by Max Herz. In addition to works of restoration Herz also designed several buildings and completed the architectural design of the Refai Mosque, Cairo’s royal mosque, after work had been interrupted for several decades and its original architect, Husayn Pasha Fahmi, had died.
[Left: Bab Zuwayla with minarets of al-Muayyad mosque in 1892. Sometime between 1860 and 1890 the tops of the minarets collapsed. Restoration of the mosque had already begun long before Herz appeared on the scene; Right: minarets after rebuilding as seen in a 1920s postcard. The minarets were rebuilt while Herz was in charge of the project.]
[Left: Rifai mosque before the resumption of work in 1906, Right: Rifai mosque in the 1930s with new minarets and dome designed by Herz.]
Herz was spending the summer of 1914 in Europe when WWI broke out. The British occupying forces in Egypt expelled all officials of Austro-Hungarian origins. Upon his return to Egypt in October 1914, British officials forced him into retirement and demanded he leave the country. The European war had direct repercussions on Egypt as the British interfered directly into Egyptian affairs and even deposed Egypt’s ruler Abbas Helmi who was in Istanbul on official visit and was not allowed to return. Herz Pasha left Egypt before the end of 1914, his family awaited him in Italy but in 1919 he went to Zürich for treatment and died during an operation. He is buried in Milan at the Cimitero Monumentale.
Arguably after Herz Pasha’s sudden departure the Comité and by extension the preservation of Islamic and Coptic monuments, which as a field developed almost entirely under his helm, were no longer the same. Although the Comité was not disbanded immediately, its budget was severely cut and no head architect comparable to Herz Pasha’s expertise headed the organization thereafter until it was officially inactive in 1953.
Al-Aqmar Mosque on Muizz Street is a small but not to be missed building. The original building dates from 1125 making it among Cairo’s oldest mosques. The building is notable for its symmetrical facade with the sunburst arch motif above the threshold at the center. It is also a notable example of the negotiation found in many of Cairo’s early mosques where the building negotiates the direction of the street, its immediate and worldly context, and the direction of Mecca, distant sacred context. The center of the mosque is a small 10-meter open court surrounded by roofed and semi-interior space.
[Aqmar Mosque plan, via archnet.org]
However what we are looking at is not a building from 1125, rather this is a 19th century reconstruction of the original twelfth century edifice. The Comite, founded in 1881, and tasked with the conservation and documentation of Egypt’s “Arab heritage” undertook this reconstruction project soon after it was formed. The mosque had been heavily damaged and what was left by the time the Comite members arrived on the site was a pile of stone, brick and timber with some parts still standing but others, such as the facade were entirely destroyed.
To rebuild this facade the members of the Comite had to closely study the site, document and collect fragments as well as study the building’s physical and historical contexts. This is a scientific engagement with the past. Based on these studies the facade (and the building) was reconstructed using new but similar technique to the original (brick walls and stone facing).
Of course the Comite which was composed of a diverse group of Europeans and Egyptians, had its politics and interests in the past. The Comite was formed by a decree from Khedive Tawfiq in an effort to piece together Egypt’s past, document it and narrate it. The Mamluke buildings received particular attention and the royal family adopted neo-Mamluke for many of its new buildings built at the end of the 19th century. In fact, these categories of “Mamluk” and “Fatimid” were created as part of this effort to categorize the past.
What interests me here for the purpose of this post is how this particular facade is replicated in the building of a new edifice across Cairo only a short time later. Al-Aqmar facade was rebuilt once more, this time in a new location, with minor decorative adjustments, and using all new materials in the construction of Cairo’s Coptic Museum in 1910.
The museum was founded by Markus Simaika after the approval of the Coptic Church. This was one of four museums established from the end of the 19th century and early 20th which were aimed to categorize, collect and display Egyptian history into four discrete eras: Egyptian, Greco-Roman, Coptic and Islamic. The flaw of these categories is that same as the flaw with the architectural categories created for different eras of Islamic art, things simply aren’t that neatly discrete and I think Egypt particularly with its diverse cultural history presents a serious challenge to such constructions of historical eras which are supposed to be associated with aesthetics, architecture and art of their own and not shared by others.
In any case, the Coptic Museum was the first attempt to collect and gather fragments from Coptic history from throughout the country and assemble them for public access in one institution in Cairo. The replica of the Aqmar facade was done by Italian architect Achille Patricolo (Italian, Catholic), who worked under the supervision of Max Hertz Pasha (a Hungarian Jew who was in charge of the Comite- tasked with the conservation of Islamic architecture). There hasn’t been research done on why exactly should the Coptic Museum have a facade that is a reproduction of a Fatimid mosque (from the early days of Islam in Egypt). Although some readings of this design choice by Simaika and the architects have suggested that it was a stylistic choice by Simaika to counter the Comite’s focus on Mamluk and its revival and adaptation by members of the royal family. There is no evidence to support this claim. I would like to offer a less sectarian reading of the choice to reproduce the facade.
As I tried to allude to above the team behind the building of the Coptic Museum was very diverse, nationally and religiously. The same goes for the Comite in general. I argue that what was celebrated in the Coptic Museum with Simaika’s approval of replicating the facade of Aqmar mosque was not the facade’s Fatimid Islamic identity but rather it was the facade as a symbol of the triumph of modern social sciences, the tools which were necessary to turn a pile of stone into a recognizable and readable document of the past. Making the past readable was in fact the mission of creating a museum of Coptic history. I think the choice to replicate the facade was about its reconstruction’s significance at the turn of the twentieth century rather than having to do with the original facade’s significance as Fatimid in the twelfth century.
By 1924 some of the features of Aqmar were separated and elaborated upon by architects creating new buildings for different functions. Here is the sunburst arch (from above the portal in Aqmar mosque) altered, and placed above the portal of the Royal Automobile Club in downtown on Qasr el Nil Street. This time Aqmar’s facade has become a source of inspiration for an inventive attempt at creating a Cairo specific deco facade for a building with no religious association what so ever. This hasn’t stopped the architect from inserting the name of god in the center of the sunburst motif. The Automobile Club was a social club for the elite where the best brandy in town was served.
On the morning of 1 March, two historic and valuable pieces of embroidered cloth, Kiswa, hanging in the mausoleum of Khedive Tawfiq, were stolen. The Kiswa is a ceremonial decorated cloth, often with gold threads, offered by the Egyptian ruler to cover the Ka`ba in Mecca. The stolen objects, although have historical value, are not registered with the department of antiquities. The building from which the objects were stolen, however, is registered. The site is managed by the Awqaf Ministry. Such disputes between Awqaf and Anquitities authorities have been to blame for the loss of countless buildings and objects in the past. This theft was the third attempt by robbers. The first attempt to steal the objects was sometime in the late 1990s when a Saudi princess commissioned the theft. The ordeal was covered in a 2002 investigative report on Aljazeera. The princess was allowed to flee along with other historic objects without facing charges. There is no evidence if the same person who attempted to possess the items in the past is responsible for this theft.
The two historic Kiswas were restored in 2006 and 2008 along with the entire building in which they hang. The building is the mausoleum of Khedive Tawfiq known as Qubbat Afandina.
Click on the Cairobserver Map on the left panel to locate Qubbat Afandina on the eastern edge of the Northern Cemetery. The following brief introduction comes from architect Agnieszka Dobrowolska who conducted its restoration in 2008 with the support of the Netherlands-Flemish Institute in Cairo:
The mausoleum is located in the Eastern Cemetery, (qarafa al-sharqiya), sometimes also referred to as Northern Cemetery, a Mamluk necropolis. It stands in the south-eastern part of this section of the necropolis close to the mausoleum of the much venerated sheikh Afifi (Abdalla al-Manufi, died in 1348), so the whole area of the cemetery is popularly known as Afifi. The building is officially registered in the Supreme Council of Anitiquities list as Qubbat Afandina (Tomb of Our Lord).
The mausoleum was built in 1894 by the Khedive Abbas Hilmi in memory of his father Khedive Muhammad Tewfiq Pasha (born in 1852) who died on 7 January 1892. It was designed by Dimitri Fabricius in the neo-Mamluk style. It is an important example of architectural design which combined traditional Islamic motifs appropriate for the purpose and location of the building with the modern design principles of the time it was built.
[Above is the eastern facade after restoration and below is the interior before restoration.]
The conservation project was financed by the Ministry of Awqaf (pious foundations) through Prince Abbas Hilmi, the descendant of the royal family. This is one of the royal family tombs, the other notable one is in the Rifa`i Mosque. The project included the cleaning and treatment of the facades, treatment of domes and roof, conservation of woodwork, conservation of marble, conservation of metalwork, lighting, in addition to the conservation of the historic Kiswas which had been hanging in the building’s vestibule until they were stolen on 1 March, 2012.
As it is the case with other such buildings and sites, despite the excellent and extensive conservation work carried out by the team, the building is mis-managed by the state. Also, considering this is one of Egypt’s royal tombs it is nearly unknown to most Egyptians who are made ignorant of their own history and treasures. If this was a site visited regularly and known to Egyptians, that alone would have made the theft more difficult. The general public only hears about Egypt’s treasures after they are stolen (as was with the famous Van Gogh painting), burnt (as with the Institut d’Egypte), or destroyed (as with numerous and countless buildings). Every one of these incidents is a reminder of the failures of the state’s institutions (Ministry of Culture, Supreme Council of Antiquities, Awqaf Ministry among others).
By Frederick Deknatel
The Sabil-Kuttab of ‘Abd al-Rahman Katkhuda is at the fork on Sharia al-Muizz just north of the monumental Mamluk funerary complexes of Qalawun and Barquq. It was built four centuries after those landmarks, in 1744, by an amir “noted for his high style of living and his liberal patronage of the arts,” in the words Caroline Williams, Cairo’s longtime architectural historian. It’s an epitaph that, I imagine, Farouk Hosny, the ex-Minister of Culture and Mubarak’s longest serving confidante, would like to own someday.
Hosny positioned himself at the head of the pyramid of ministries and bureaucracies that administered the Historic Cairo Restoration Project, the more than a decade long refurbishment of al-Muizz that was launched by presidential decree in 1998. The ministry of housing and the Cairo governorate were major partners in the project, but Hosny made sure he and his ministry had the most power over planning and especially purses. Numbers are vague, as with most things bureaucratic in Egypt. But the Historic Cairo project’s budget has been described at over LE 850 million, with al-Muizz getting the majority of that share for the restoration of historic buildings (as well as the stylistically bland beautification of Muizz’s modern, concrete ones), the leveling and repaving of the street, and the installation of the LED lights that now illuminate Fatimid Cairo’s historic avenue at night.
After January 25th the police enforcement of Muizz as a pedestrian zone, with heavily regulated car traffic, ended – police had other things to do. A walk down Muizz in the daytime now requires dodging busy car traffic, and risking having your foot run-over by a car wedging its way down the street, between the narrow sidewalk and a crowd outside a fish stand. When this happened to me last August, my foot was surprisingly fine – and the driver smiled sheepishly and threw up his hands in soft apology. A walk down Muizz in the evening is closer to Hosny’s vision, since the buildings glow every night in LED radiance, including a strange stream of purple outside the entrance to the madrasa of Barquq.
Early on in the Muizz restoration, Williams and other international architects and historians criticized the Egyptian government and its culture ministry for the project’s view of heritage tourism as “the ultimate panacea for the Islamic monuments in Cairo.” Williams spoke for many critics when she slammed the Muizz project: it wasn’t preservation but a scheme, she wrote, “of turning medieval Cairo into a sanitized tourist district featuring inauthentic but atmospheric monuments deprived of their living character.”
The ministry and the Supreme Council of Antiquities hosted a conference in 2002 to stem such bad press. The heavy text produced and published for the conference, called simply Historic Cairo, outlined the Muizz project monument by monument, since a lack of documentation was a unifying critique. But the language used by Hosny in his haughty introduction betrayed the government’s long-held view that Egyptians must be separated from their urban and architectural heritage. “It has been crucial to redress the afflictions that have debilitated Cairo as a result of the vicissitudes of its long history and the infringements of successive generations of inhabitants,” Hosny wrote. “Such transgressions have been due to the pressing need to gain a livelihood, impelling individuals to encroach upon the unparalleled monuments that history has entrusted us with.”
In other words, everyday Egyptians, particularly those working in workshops in Gamaliya, are a threat to Islamic monuments and their tourist potential, rather the living inhabitants, even the custodians, of an historic city. Public involvement was the last thing on the mind of the planners of the Muizz project. As a philosophy for preservation, and indeed urban and economic development, this idea of separating people from space and architecture, and relocating them altogether, spread throughout the Mubarak regime. The ministry of housing and its subsidiary General Office of Physical Planning, the force behind the fantasy of Cairo 2050, practiced urban planning as a tool for regime preservation and profit. Their “wide-range strategic plan for Greater Cairo” hinged on how to maximize the speculative potential of the desert cities and clear the informal, urban fabric near the Nile to make way for high-rises and elite real estate, while turning all of historic Cairo, from Gamaliya all the way south to Sultan Hassan and Ibn Tulun, into “The Open Museum, Fatimid Cairo.” Muizz was the model for historic Cairo in this authoritarian vision. The oldest quarters of the city – where workshops and craftsmen, some traditional, some not, cluster among medieval mosques, tombs, and forgotten palaces – would become an “open-air museum” home to streets “free from traffic and haggling,” as the New York Times wrote of Muizz after its reopening.
“To revitalise this street is to revive authenticity,” Hosny wrote proudly in the introduction to another book on the Muizz refurbishment, a glossy, hardcover text published recently by the ministry of culture, called simply The Great Street. But what was the regime’s idea of authenticity? Hosting the minister of culture’s galas and elite parties in the restored complex of Qalawun? Adapting every restored wikala into another “cultural center” that mostly sits empty?
The storefronts on the most northern stretch of Muizz, outside the mosque of al-Hakim and Bab al-Futuh, were cleared of their bustling onion and lemon markets, replaced with rows of shisha shops. To this an architect working in Muizz told me, “The entire street is a shisha market! The entire medieval Cairo of our times is a shisha market!”
Read more from Frederick Deknatel on his blog, Hidden Cities.
This article will be available in Arabic in a forthcoming Cairobserver print publication.
Update February 10: A water pipe burst on the evening of Feb 10 causing severe flooding in the historic street. Water pipes were replaced as part of the renovation project described above. The problem was later resolved.
On January 17 the Sabil-Kuttab of the Ottoman Sultan Mustafa III was inagurated after extensive architectural conservation. The 18th century building was part of a network of charitable fountains where the public can access clear drinking water free of charge. This particular sabil is unique because its interior is decorated with nearly 2000 blue Dutch tiles showing scenes of Dutch countryside. The sabil is located across from the mosque of Cairo’s patron saint, Sayeda Zainab. The building is evidence of relations between the Netherlands and Egypt, or at least a Dutch trader and an Ottoman Cairene. The architect behind the project is Agnieszka Dobrowolska who was also responsible for the beautiful restoration of the Muhammad Ali Sabil on Mueiz Street.
The Sabil–Kuttab, a building combining a public water dispensary with a Quranic school, was erected in 1758–60 in the name of the Ottoman Sultan Mustafa III in the Sayida Zeinab district in Cairo. In 2008–2009, it was conserved through a project financed by the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands in Egypt, affiliated with the Netherlands–Flemish Institute in Cairo, and carried out in cooperation with the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities. Read more, here.
The architect wrote about the restoration project:
The Netherlands-Flemish Institute in Cairo, with funding from the Local Cultural Fund of the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, carried out in 2008-2009 a conservation project to preserve this unusual example of cultural exchange between Egypt and the Netherlands. An experienced team of conservators directed by the architect Agnieszka Dobrowolska and working in cooperation with the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities treated every part of the building, on which time had taken a heavy toll. The multicolor marble and carved limestone of the facades, painted and carved wooden ceilings and other decorative woodwork, elaborate cast bronze window grilles, marble mosaic pavements and wall-lining, and the Dutch wall tiles were all cleaned, consolidated, and protected throughout the building, and structural deficiencies were addressed. Read the full text, here.
AUC press published a book, The Sultan’s Fountain: An Imperial Story of Cairo, Istanbul, and Amsterdam, documenting the history of the building, its builder, and the restoration process.
After two years of renovation work, this weekend the Netherlands-Flemish Institute in Cairo celebrates the completion of work on the upgraded facilities. The Institute was founded in 1971 as a hub for cultural exchange as well as teaching and research particularly in the fields of Arabic & Islamic studies, Egyptology, Archaeology and Papyrology, among others. Part of Leiden University, the institute welcomes scholars from eight participating universities in the Netherlands and Flanders.
The institute has occupied its current building in Zamalek since its founding in 1971. The exact date of the building construction is unknown, however, judging by its architectural character, it appears to be from the nineteen-teens.
Over the years adjustments were made to transform a building that was intended for residential use to fit its new function as home for a research institute with publicly accessible spaces, offices as well as short-term residences for scholars. The director of the institute also lived in the building until recently.
The structure consists of a basement, an elevated main level reached by a stair and two upper floors in addition to a roof terrace.
The renovation called for meeting the following needs: optimizing space, modernizing the structure while maintaining original character, provide new common facilities, new office space, new classrooms, new sanitation facilities and removal of unneeded kitchens, upgrade scholar guestrooms, bigger library space, fire safety and emergency exits, and new mechanical systems (most notably a new central ventilation system). All this had to be done while the institute continued its functions.
The project was managed by Bert Dopp from Leiden University’s real estate department. Architect Ernst Hoek provided the design and local contractor Wafaa Dewidar implemented the project.
The renovation team worked to maintain original details such as the balat flooring in the entry hall and the ironwork on the stair rail. In both cases the team attempted to reproduce such details to expand beyond their original locations: The stair rail was reproduced in order to extend the stair further up to reach the roof terrace (where it had originally terminated at the top floor). The new railing seamlessly continues the original work. Similarly the team wished to reproduce balat tiles to expand them beyond the entry hall into other rooms. However, the balat industry is all but gone in Egypt and it was not possible to find the proper artisans to carryout the work.
In addition to aesthetic considerations, the renovation involved serious modifications that were done in context-sensitive ways: In addition to extending the stair a further level, a shaft was created through the entire building to carry wiring, ventilation systems and pipes. The entire structure was rewired with new networks and wireless internet as well as a sound system in some places. The air vents are discreetly positioned in the ceilings to provide much needed ventilation without disturbing the spatial quality of the rooms with their high ceilings and airy feel. An emergency stair (spiral) was fitted along the back of the building to allow for an escape route from the roof and top floor.
In addition to maintaining existing detail and adding new building systems, there were added architectural details. Those new additions are: the reception desk and the bar at the roof terrace, as well as glass walls placed at the thresholds (creating vestibules) and finally a new guard kiosk outside the building.
The institute commissioned a Dutch artist to create tiles bearing the logos of participating universities and institutes which were then broken and reassembled on the bar and reception desk.
Glass walls, sealing the interior spaces to help maintain temperature controls, also provide a visual function of marking thresholds (at the main entrance, the roof terrace and the basement entrance to classrooms) in a consistent manner. This added element also sensitively makes an architectural statement without overpowering the original structure. The pattern on the glass was designed by the architect and is inspired by perforation both in Dutch lace and Egyptian arabesque wooden screens.
The pattern was also used on the shading device designed for the guard kiosk outside. The new kiosk provides lockers for guards and guests to leave their bags, fire safety controls and security features. The design of the kiosk is inspired by Dutch greenhouses and it is built around an existing tree in the garden of the building.
The NVIC renovation proves that Cairo’s historic architecture can be transformed into modern, well-designed spaces suiting new functions with the right intentions and good practice. The potential for similar projects in Cairo is countless, however the professional framework, design practices and contractors needed for successful adaptive-reuse/building renovations are lacking. The NVIC project provides a successful model for building transformation that is sensitive to functional needs, cultural context and architectural heritage.
To visit the NVIC website, click here.
Excerpt from Al-Ahram Weekly:
Netherlands/Flemish Institute in Cairo (NVIC) and the American Research Centre in Egypt (ARCE) convened a one-day Heritage Management Workshop on 22 November to review the current situation in Egypt and discuss a way forward. In her opening address Kim Duistermaat, director of the Netherlands Institute, which hosted the event, said: “Archaeology is no longer purely an academic discipline. Research and site protection are two sides of the same coin. Archaeology is a study of the past; site management relates to the present.”
The participants had this to say:
"Any project to save an historical or archaeological area is doomed to failure unless it takes into account that the monuments themselves form but an infinitesimal part of the social fabric of an area."
"To revitalise and successfully conserve an area depends on understanding the forces that created it in the first place, the pattern of streets or waterways, domestic architecture, as well as commercial and manufacturing activities."
"The further training of professionals is essential and so is community involvement." "Something has to be done about the structure of politics and regulations."
"The grassroots of society have to be taken into consideration because they are every bit as concerned about the country’s heritage as the policy-making segment of the community."
"Education is vital."
"Get more young students involved."
"It is not possible to develop and implement long-term plans for conservation and to subsequently maintain sites, without qualified employees, and an educated populace."
Read full report, here.
One of Cairo’s iconic bridges, Boulac Bridge, is pictured here in 1961 during the 9th anniversary of the 1952 Coup/”revolution.” The bridge was located at the extension of Boulac Street, later renamed Foad Street and currently holding the name 26th of July Street (which begins at Azbakiyya Garden bending at the High Court and on to the bridge which crossed the Nile from Boulac to Zamalek on Gezira Island). It’s name later changed to Abu el Ela (after a mosque by the same name that was located near the bridge’s entrance from the Boulac side). Throughout its history, the bridge carried a tram line, cars and pedestrians. In 1996 the bridge was dismantled, deemed as insufficient for Cairo’s growing traffic. It has since been replaced with the current 15th May Bridge. It is rumored that the iron Boulac bridge, which was built in 1910, was moved to a Nile side location further north near the district of Sahel. There are also rumors that it was sold for scrap, as it was the fate of other iron bridges.
It seems obvious if the bridge, or part of it, still exists somewhere in Cairo, it should be reused in some capacity. In 2009 there was a proposal to use the bridge parts to create an art space or give it a commercial use (Much like what was done to the old Imbaba Bridge which was moved to Damaietta). That proposal was never carried through. However, last November amidst all the upheaval Egypt is experiencing, officials found the time to reopen the case of the 700 Million Egyptian Pound investment plan for the bridge and renewed the initial idea of turning it into a private “touristic space.” Al Wafd paper presented the project in nationalist guise, as was usually done by the regime in such private projects that typically involved massive corruption, deals with contractors, money laundering, etc.
Here is an obvious use for the bridge that doesn’t involve turning public property into private investment with no return to the public. Re-use the bridge as a pedestrian bridge.
Crossing the Qasr el Nil Bridge is one of Cairo’s most accessible and popular activities and it is free. With public space so limited, particularly space overlooking the Nile, a pedestrian bridge crossing the Nile in central Cairo would be a transformative project and a great addition to the city’s “public good.”
There is an obvious location as well: between the 6th October Bridge and Qasr el Nil Bridge. The bridge could link the Cairo Tower with the Egyptian Museum.
The increasing privatizations of public amenities have reduced the standard of the city over the past several decades significantly. Instead of creating another privately owned space using this historic structure, it can be used the way it was always intended to be used, as a bridge. At the same time it can provide pedestrians, who are the majority of this city’s population, where only %15 own private cars, with an additional promenading space where they can experience the Nile and views of the city. The bridge appears to be in near perfect condition in an early 1990s Amr Diab video.
GOPP and other organizations should promote public projects that will raise the standard of living in Cairo. There is no use of having pockets of luxury and private enterprise if they sit within the context of a deteriorating city. Raising public standards, public projects, public space all contribute positively towards any future private investment. This is a call for those who are concerned to save the Boulac (Abu el Ela) Bridge and resurrect it as a pedestrian bridge in a popular location. It would be a good step for greater public good.
More information: Al-Ahram Weekly, here.
Nezar AlSayyad, Irene Bierman, Nasser Rabbat, eds. Making Cairo Medieval. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2005. vi + 266 pp. $83.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-7391-0915-1; $29.95 (paper), ISBN 978-0-7391-0916-8.
Reviewed by Seif El Rashidi (Aga Khan Cultural Services, Egypt)
Published on H-Urban (July, 2005)
Typically, scholarship of the urban development of Cairo has emphasized the dichotomy between its “medieval” and its “modern” quarters, with little critical analysis about how this notion of a dual city came about, or the impacts of this treatment on both perceptions of Cairo and on its subsequent development. Through the work of ten scholars, Making Cairo Medieval examines the idea of a “medieval Cairo”—a concept developed in the nineteenth century by people who were essentially outsiders to the historic quarters of the city, yet whose ideas of refashioning such neighborhoods to create a “medievalized” Cairo continue to affect the policies governing these quarters of the city today.
The first section of the book, “A Medieval City for a Modern World,” sets the framework around which the ideas that eventually led to the “medievalization” of the city developed. Irene Bierman discusses world exhibitions in which the stage-set recreations of historic Cairo came to be seen as more authentic than the real city itself, thus becoming a guiding prototype for urban policy and intervention. She also outlines the development of conservation policies intent on ensuring the architectural purity of historic monuments (often by editing out buildings or sections of them which did not conform to preset ideas about the style of each epoch).
Nasser Rabbat discusses key literary works on the history of Cairo, namely the fifteenth century Khitat of al-Maqrizi, until today seen as the bible for many of the questions related to the city’s social and urban history. Unlike the other authors in this volume, Rabbat brings up the idea of Egyptian “cosmo-centrism” (seeing Egypt as the center of the world), tellingly absent from this medievalization process, which was led primarily by europhilic Egyptians, and Europeans in a prenationalistic age. Nezzar AlSayyad, discussing the role of Ali Pasha Mubarak, a europhilic Egyptian par excellence and architect of Cairo’s modernization scheme, presents him simultaneously as the writer of the most detailed account of nineteenth-century Cairo, a novelist who captured the prevailing mood of historic change, and the heavy-handed urbanist who worked towards the indiscriminate modernization of the historic city. Ironically, AlSayyad maintains that Mubarak did not contribute to the medievalization process, except through his written works. Yet Mubarak, historic Cairo’s self-proclaimed greatest enemy, was in fact an unintentional protagonist in the quest to create a medieval Cairo. As Donald Preziosi argues in the second section of this book, by trying to change the pre-nineteenth-century city, and only partially succeeding, Mubarak helped emphasize the medieval nature of Cairo’s historic quarters.
"Representing and Narrating," the second section of the book, considers the Orientalist imaginary of Cairo, and how it became firmly embedded in the minds of non-Cairenes through the works of European artists, photographers, and writers. Derek Gregory, discussing Edward Lane’s written works (and illustrations), shows how Lane’s portrayal of Cairo life as a series of attractively Oriental vignettes fueled Westerners’ imaginations and sent them in search of the "Arabian Nights" in the real-life city. Caroline Williams, through her study of Orientalist paintings and photographs, traces the evolution of the Orientalist painting as a documentary medium. The advent of the photograph changed the role of artists to that of visual interpreters, portraying a hyper-romanticized view of the Orient through their work. These visual and textual references, created for a Western audience, determined what it was visitors to Egypt expected to find: essentially, an Oriental fantasy out of touch with the modern world.
Read full review, here.
When walking along the waterfront in Garden City Cairenes and visitors wonder about one particular building across the Nile on the southern tip of Gezira (Zamalek) Island. If you take a falucca ride around here the boatman might tell you “that’s the museum of the revolution.” This might be confusing as there are now three junctures in the last century of Egyptian history that have been endowed with the title “revolution.”
The building in question was ordered in 1949 under King Farouk for the Royal Navy fleet and was completed in 1951. At that time it cost LE118,000. Needless to say, the building was never used as intended because the King was overthrown in 1952 by members of the army. During the early days of post-Farouk Egypt, the building was used by Gamal Abdel Nasser and the "free officers" as their headquarters and many historic meetings, laws, court rulings and decisions took place here. By 1956 the building was ignored and abandoned and stayed so until recently.
In 1996, former president Hosni Mubarak made presidential decree #204 to transform the building into a museum for the 1952 “revolution,” more accurately a coup d’etat. The decision put the building under the supervision of the Ministry of Culture which listed it as “Islamic monument” making Zahi Hawass its primary caretaker.
Following the story of this building is a classic case of bureaucratic corruption that dominates Egyptian government and most certainly the Ministry of Culture and the Supreme Council of Antiquities.
The structure was left untouched, despite the decision in ‘96 to make it a museum, until 2010. Suddenly there was work in progress, a crane and slowly a strange and enigmatic structure began to appear on top of the building, like a cancerous growth.
The renovation of the forty-room building includes a massive steel structure topping its once open courtyard. The structure, designed by Ahmed Mito, is meant to represent an eagle (symbol of the republic) emerging from the building (the birthplace of the republic?). Although figures are not published, the project was given a LE40 million budget in 1996. The “eagle” structure alone is said to cost some LE20 million. These are large sums of state money that could have housed a few thousand families in a city with a severe housing crisis. This is not a choice between the museum (ceremonial, symbolic) and housing (practical, urgent). But the Museum could have been done with half the budget. To spend LE20 million for a symbolic roof is an outrage.
Architecturally speaking this project is catastrophic. There is no relationship with the original structure, the interiors of which appear to have been stripped. Mito, notably the architect of Egypt’s Supreme Court building in Maadi, decided to go with literal symbolism. An eagle is the symbol of the republic so an eagle must emerge from the building where the foundation of Egypt’s republic (military rule) took place.
This unavoidably brings me to Robert Venturi’s duck. In the 1960s and 70s Venturi traveled the US, and eventually published Learning From Las Vegas. Along the way he encountered the Big Duck and he coined the term “duck” to describe a building’s architecture that is dominated by its symbolic form. The Big Duck was a building on a duck farm where duck products were sold.
Before Mito’s addition, the future Majlis el Thawra Museum building was closer to what Venturi would call “a decorated shed,” a much more common form of architecture. However, the steel structure with its dominating presence atop the stone “shed” fully transforms it into a duck… or an eagle in this case.
When I visited the site recently workers were cynical of what they are asked to do and all seemed to agree it was ridiculous. The museum is to house almost 12,000 items belonging to members of the “free officers” council, related documents, gifts, and photographs. This will be the culmination of authoritarian celebration of military statehood, I would imagine following in the line of Hosni Mubarak’s self-congratulating North Korean-built 1973 War Panorama.
Since last year when work began on this mysterious expensive project another revolution broke out. While the regime was cementing its history by commemorating what it insists to call a revolution from 1952, people took to the streets earlier this year in an attempt to topple that very military regime. The verdict is still out.
Meanwhile, it seems like Cairo’s skyline will now host an eagle of steel. It is unfortunate that the architect did not question the meanings of the military’s chosen symbol. Eagles are opportunistic predators that eat almost anything, although they prefer attacking and eating small prey. Perhaps the eagle is a fitting symbol after all.