Poinsettias, Christmas trees, coloured lights, decorations and tinsel are in fashion in the upmarket neighbourhood of Zamalek on the Nile island of Gezira, in western Cairo, in spite of the troubles that have gripped Egypt for nearly four years and are expected to continue.
Christmas here, as everywhere, is a time for consumption and charity.
The Wady charity handicraft shop at All Saints Anglican Cathedral stocks handmade fat felt Santa advent calendars, Santa toby mugs, placemats and plates decorated with seasonal motifs, Santa oven mitts, and perfumed candles: presents-in-waiting made by deaf, blind and disabled Egyptians, refugees and prisoners.
The American University in Cairo bookshop sells 2015 calendars printed by the university press. One dubbed, Cats, Crocodiles and Camels, has amusing illustrations of Egyptian animals; the other reproduces photographs taken in 1862 of scenes from Cairo to Constantinople by Middle Eastern traveller Francis Bedford. Just inside the bookshop door are Christmas cards, bright red tree ornaments, and seasonal packaging for gifts.
The windows of shops on a side street near my boutique hotel sport poinsettias and evergreen branches. The florist across the street displays well shaped live juniper rather then fir trees in tubs: exhorbitantly priced at 350 Egyptian pounds (€40.00) before haggling.
Fairy lights flash on the branches of cheap pollution-soiled plastic trees on the pavement outside a tiny toy shop. The charming store blitzed by Christmas is run by three large Muslim ladies in headscarves – good businesswomen all.
My Egyptian companions and I walk down the centre of the poorly lit street after a cheerful coffee break. Even here in Zamalek, pavements are death traps, littered with rubble and rubbish, their surfaces holed, and broken. I pause to have a look at the brightly and tastefully decorated windows of La Maison de Mireille, prof- fering flowered cushion covers, smoked wine glasses, small paintings of Paris streets, baubbles and beads. Most from France, of course.
While the owner of the sad Syrian sweetshop packs up a box of pastries for me to take home to Cyprus, I ask, in French, where he is from in Syria. "Damascus," he replies and queries. "Have you ever been to Syria?" "Yes, in April and June," I say. He faces me, eyes blinking to hold back tears, "How is Damascus." "It carries on," I respond. He sighs, "C'est dommage" (It's a pity). "Domage," I echo, feeling a the touch of the chill hand of a not-so-distant war.
Cairo is a sanctuary for Syrian, Sudanese, Libyan, Somali, and Palestinian refugees. Old residents are tolerated. Newcomers are not welcome and the government is doing its best to limit the inflow. The Virgin Mary, Jesus and Joseph would not be welcome in Egypt these days were they to flee King Herod’s soldiers.
Zamalek is a special place, a haven for Christians, upper class Muslims, foreign residents, and tourists now trickling in after months of revolutionary turmoil. The owner of my small hotel is celebrating 50 per cent occupancy by filling the lobby with pots of poinsettias. In tower block chain hotels the percentage of guests is far lower but managers place their hopes on the winter season beginning after the first of the year.
Zamalek hosts embassies, provides homes for diplomats who stage bazaars and concerts to benefit the poor of this country where the poor account for at least 40 per cent of the population. The Irish embassy is donating Irish coffee (in line with tradition) to jolly people along and encourage them to buy Irish and other European products at the European charity bazaar taking place today at the Conrad Hotel on the Cairo-side bank of the Nile. Christmas is a time of good cheer and giving among local and foreign Christians.
Passersby reach down to hand bright brass half Egyptian pound coins to an elderly woman with a cherubic face and pink cheeks sitting on the pavement on Shagaret al-Dor street which connects the Irish embassy’s handsome white villa to the ambassador’s residence in apretty pink villa a five minute walk away. Few people take the small packets of tissues she sells. Charity in Muslim Egypt is not confined to the Christmas season but is celebrated year round.
