Cairo poor use tomb as home in the ‘city of the dead’

Press, 20 April 1982, Page 7

Cairo poor use tomb as home in the ‘city of the dead’

By

JANE EYRE

Cairo A woman named Mounira lives a few short kilometres from the centre of Cairo but she has not a clue what the Israel-Egypt peace treaty is. In fact, Mounira has not much of an idea what the centre of Cairo looks like. She lives in a tomb in the biggest mausoleum in the world.

Known as the city of the dead it covers hectares in Cairo and houses the graves of mostly wealthy Moslem families.

Mounira’s tomb dwelling, which she shares with a husband and five children, is the result of grinding poverty, an exploding Egyptian population and an endless exodus from the rural areas to the promise of work in the city.

I had spent the previous hour discussing the EgyptIsrail peace process with the polished Boutros Ghali, who is Minister for State for Foreign Affairs. We sat on period French velvet furniture in a classic towering building which reeked of old and decadent colonialism. But it was Mounira and her homelife which screamed for that elusive peace. Less on military budgets and more on accommodating the millions of poor in this country.

The city of the dead is a monument to the internment of loved ones in style. Wealthy families have over centuries erected tombs there and they can range from a house to a mosque or simple walled-in court-yard. As space has run out to throw up hovel dwellings on any vacant piece of land, people have begun moving into the tombs where they can at least find a room,

The first impression of the city of the dead is what its name implies—a ghost town. Signs of habitation become apparent as people quickly

disappear into doorways oti the narrow dusty streets. Mounira quickly slammed the door of her tomb until the interpreter explained we meant her no harm and only wanted to talk. She gingerly bade us welcome.

The family shares one room. Every day she carries water' in earthenware jars from a tap. Six days out of seven the children eat only beans.

The family came from a northern rural village when the food ran out and Cairo seemed a better prospect for work. Mounira was unable to tell us what her husband earned when he could get a few days work. Her rural village upbringing meant she was unable to convert her existence into monetary terms. All she knew was that when some money come home, the children had a hot meal, consisting of vegetables and rice, cooked over an open fire. The food was bought locally, the bustle of Cairo was too overwhelming a prospect for Mounira to venture into.

She ushered us into the courtyard behind the room where the focal point was the grave itself. The interpreter would not question Mounira on whether as a Muslim she felt sensitive about setting up home in a Muslim tomb. “That would offend her. It is just better not to ask. “She does say she is quite satisfied living here. It is better than having nowhere to live,” the interpreter said. Mounira’s children, the family dog and a solitary goose had overcome their suspicion and hovered close to the strange people asking questions. One of the children .watched wide-eyed as the pen made marks on the' notepad and he grinned with ap effect which was a dental hygienist’s migthmare. He does not go to school. Only

one of the children is offered that luxury. Mounira’s husband was off working on a building site, but the city of the dead fills up even more when the workers come home at night. According to Mounira nobody minds her family living there and she has many neighbours. Nobody could put an exact figure on the living population of the city of the dead but it is understood it can soar to half a million as the migratory workers crowd into the city at week-ends. The rooms such as that which the family lives in

were designed as visiting places for the relatives of the dead—a place to stay a few hours and visit the departed. some tomb owners pay a family to move in and keep an entire street of tombs cleaned and looked after to stop the taking up of residence by their less-fortunate migrant countrymen. The caretaker system works well for some of the more spectacular stone and marble monuments, but there are signs everywhere of forced entry. The‘interpreter was asked

to question Mounira on whether she knew what the Egypt-Israel peace treaty was. “She doesn't, know what I’m talking about," the interpreter said. Surprisingly, a bare lightbulb hung on’a doubtful wire from the ceiling of Mounira’s room, the Egyptian Government supplies electrictiy to some of the tombs. As we left we offered Mounira some money for the invasion of her privacy. the face of the tiny figure in black lit up. "Come again," she said.