With nearly 30 plays to his credit (I know of 28, including a trilogy, but there may be more), Mohamed Abu El-‘Ela El-Salamouni (1941- ) ranks as the second most prolific writer in contemporary Egyptian theatre after Tawfiq El-Hakim. He wrote his first play, Hekaya min Leilat Al-Qadr (A Tale of the Night of Power), while studying philosophy at Ein Shams University, which he joined after attending a teachers training college. In this play, which he entered in a competition for new plays held by the Theatre Club of El-Hakim Theatre in 1964, he used a popular legend to satirize the dreams of sudden, miraculously begotten wealth, entertained by the poor. By the time he graduated in 1968, he had produced 2 more plays, Al-Hareeq (The Fire) and Al-Ard wa Al-Maghoul (The Land and the Moguls), both inspired by the 1967 Egyptian military defeat in the war with Israel. When he presented the latter, in which argued that dictatorship, corruption and capitalism were behind Egypt's defeat, to the Mass Culture Organisation (currently The Cultural Palaces), he was branded a Marxist – a charge that continued to dog him for a long time, sending him to prison for a year in 1974. His next play, Abu Zeid fi Baladna (Abu Zeid in Town) fared better and was staged in the city of Banha, in 1969, by director El-Sayed El-Bagoury. Though pronouncedly political, its socialist, anti-dictatorship message, which advocated democracy through the founding of self-governing rural coops, was better camouflaged by the use of a popular ritual, common in the Canal Zone and parts of the Delta then, forming part of the annual Spring celebrations there, and consisting of the burning of an effigy of Lord Allenby, the British High Commissioner in the last years of the British occupation of Egypt. In 1972, El-Salamouni, though still a dissident and outspoken socialist, succeeded in getting himself deputized from the ministry of education, where he held a teaching post, to the ministry of culture, where he joined the theatre department of the Mass Culture organization. Curious as this may seem, it was in fact typical of the paradoxical love/hate relationship between the regime and the Left in those days and of the regime's fiendish punish/reward policy in dealing with its members. No wonder that on the opening night of El-Salamouni's next play, Al-Nadeem fi Hoget Al-Za'eem (Abdallah Al-Nadeem in the Uprising Led by Orabi in 1882), which was staged at one of the Mass Culture venues in Port Said by director Abbas Ahmed, the happy author was arrested, allegedly for former political activities (possibly for leaving the Youth Organisation – an arm of the regime – in 1969, only 3 years after he joined it, and taking up a post as teacher of philosophy, a very suspect subject) and sent, without trial, to Al-Zaqaziq prison. His one year unfair detention inspired 2 plays: Ziyaret ‘Azrael (A Visit from the Angel of Death), produced in 1975 by the Mass culture Damietta troupe under the direction of Hilmi Sirag, and an adaptation of Arthur Miller's The Crucible (or Witches of Salem), called Witch-hunt in 1976. These early works laid the foundation of El-Salamouni's distinctive dramaturgical practice which he honed and refined as he went on. Material-wise, it mainly consists in drawing upon Egyptian a history, past and present, official and popular, as well as on the Arabic literary heritage, folklore and popular culture for parallels with the present as a way to dramatize the author's comments, ideas and reflections (invariably progressive, socialist, democratic and secular in nature) on pressing topical issues. In terms of form, it favours open theatricality, frequently resorting to the play-within-a play device, and draws on rituals and popular forms of communal entertainment and public performances. In 1979, El-Salamouni nearly made it to mainstream theatre when his play Knights of God, or The Sword of God, about the conflicts and temptations faced by Omar Ibn Al-Khattab, the second Caliph to succeed Prophet Mohamed, was directed by Hafiz Ahmed Hafiz for Al-Tali'a state theatre company. The play, however, was stopped on the opening night, 1 January, 1980, after Samir El-Asfouri, the artistic director then, received threats from Islamist groups who objected to the personification of this sacred figure on stage. Around that time too, a regional production of El-Salamouni's The Moulid of Sayed El-Badawi, was also stopped by the governor of Damietta at the request of extremist religious groups who objected to the holding of annual commemorative celebrations of holy men. It was a grim sign that religious fundamentalism had arrived on the Egyptian scene and was on the rise. Not surprisingly, therefore, 3 new topics made their way into Al-Salamouni's plays from the 1980s onwards, taking a prominent place side by side with his attacks on totalitarian regimes, warnings against the dangers and guiles of dictatorship, or of seeking foreign help to foster a particular rule, or gain a certain end, however legitimate, and his pleas for democracy and social justice. The first focused on defying, denouncing and confuting the claims of religious fanatics and extremists and exposing their moral hypocrisy and political ambitions; the second championed the rights of women and their dignity, both threatened by the Islamists, and sought to stress their important roles in history and valuable contributions to culture and society; the third advocated tolerance, the acceptance of the different Other and the coexistence and interaction of East and West on terms of equality and mutual respect. The plays which best showcase these new themes, whether singly, in couples, or in unison, include: El-Maleem Barba'a (Four Pennies for One), which exposes the fraudulent dealings of Islamic Capital Investment Companies, and Bahebak Ya Mogrem (I Love You, Damn You), about militant Islamists and their terrorist activities, both successively staged by Galal El-Sharqawi at his private theatre in 1990 and 1991; Amir Al-Hashasheen (Prince of Assassins), which draws parallels between the gangs of assassins Hassan Al-Sabah formed in the Fatimid period and regularly doped with Hash and promises of paradise to make them carry out his orders, on the one hand, and the secret organization of the Muslim Brothers, with their history of assassinations, on the other. Saad Ardash set about directing this play in 1993, but was forced to stop halfway through rehearsals when Fahmi El Kholi, the then artistic director of the Modern Theatre Company which was to produce the play, received threats that the theatre would be blown up if the play was shown. Though the play was published in 1995, it was not until 2009 that it was finally staged by Sami Taha outside Cairo, at Al-Badrasheen Cultural Palace. Diwan Al-Baqar (The Book of Kine), about the manipulation of the masses by religious charlatans, staged by Karam Metawe' at Al Hanager in 1995, is another important play of this period, and was followed by Zouba Al-Masriyya (Zouba, The Egyptian), which glorifies Egyptian women, and Al-Masri wa Amirat Al-Fringah (The Egyptian and the Princess of the Franks), which projects the famous affair between Princess Diana and Doody El-Fayed from a new point of view, giving it a positive, hopeful interpretation. Neither has been staged as yet, but both were published in 2002. Al-Haditha (The Incident), which depicts the shattering impact of the Twin Tower disaster on the family of an Egyptian professor living in the States and married to an American, denounces the subsequent wholesale condemnation of all Muslims and Arabs in the States and lampoons religious extremists and terrorists in Egypt, was directed by Maher Selim at Al-Tali'a, in 2010. Al-Hob fi Midan El-Tahrir (Love in Tahrir Square), a trilogy glorifying the young people who sparked off the 25 January revolution, was published in the weekly Masrahona(Our Theatre) on 28 February, 2011, only 17 days after Mubarak stepped down. This gives you an idea of how fast this author can produce plays, and how anxious he is to keep a dramatic record of historical events. By the end of 2011, however, it became clear that the Muslim Brothers who had hijacked the revolution were diligently following in Mubarak's dictatorial footsteps and, worse still, were determined to rob Egyptian women of their hard-won rights. The many fatwas against women occupying certain jobs, or positions of leadership, and preaching their total subservience and submission to men angered all intellectuals and the majority of fair-minded ordinary people, and sent Al-Salamouni on another trip to history in search of a suitable dramatic rebuttal. The result was the 2012 Al Mahrous wa Al-Mahrousa (The God-Protected He and God-Protected She) which received a National Theatre production, directed by Shadi Sorour and opened on 22 February this year at Miami theatre, the temporary venue of the National Company until its main theatre reopens. The play juxtaposes 2 historical figures from the 13th Century, queen Shagaret Al-Dorr of Egypt and the last Abbasid Caliph, Al-Musta'sim, and compares their reactions to the threat of foreign military invasion. Shagaret Al-Dorr is known to almost all Egyptians, literate and otherwise. Apart from history books, she features in the Sira (popular, oral epic) of Al-Zaher Baybars, was the subject matter of an early 20th Century popular novel by Gorgy Zeidan, was impersonated by the lovely Asya Dagher in a 1935 movie based on Zeidan's novel and was again impersonated by the great Taheya Carioca in Wa Islamaah, a 1961 movie based on a novel by Ali Ahmed Bakatheer that carries that name and has been compulsory reading in schools for decades. Her story is turbulently dramatic and combines love, loyalty, courage and heroism as well as jealousy, betrayal and bloody revenge: A wise, beautiful and strong-willed slave girl of controversial origins wins the heart of her owner, Prince Nagm El-Din Ayyoub of Egypt, who dubs her Shagaret Al-Dorr (pearl tree), stays loyally by him during his detention in Iraq in 1239, bears him a son there and supports him in his struggle for his father's throne. Back in Egypt, they marry and when he becomes Sultan in 1240, he shares the burden of rule with her, deputizing her to act in his place when he is called away from Egypt, consulting her in all state affairs and always acting on her sagacious advice. When king Louis IX of France invades Egypt in June 1249 at the head of a new Crusade and lands in Damietta and Sultan Al-Saleh Nagm El-Din dies a few months later, on 23 November, Shagaret Al-Dorr keeps his death a secret to preserve the morale of her soldiers and people, leads the armed resistance against the invaders, decimating their armies, capturing their royal leader and keeping him a war prisoner in Dar Ibn Luqman, in Mansoura, till he is richly ransomed. When the war is over, she sends for her husband's son by a previous marriage to take his father's place. When he proves a threat to her life and status, she has him killed by her loyal Mamelukes who subsequently vote her queen. However, she rules for only 80 days after which male prejudice both at home and in Baghdad, the seat of the Abbasid Caliphate, forces her to take a husband and officially hand over her throne to him. For a while, prince Izz El-Din Aybak, who became upon his marriage King Al-Mu'iz, bowed down to her will and authority, deserting his wife and mother of his son Ali at her command and allowing her to be the real ruler. Eventually, however, when he became more experienced in running his kingdom and got rid of his competitors and opponents both at home and abroad, he rebelled. He began to neglect her and set about planning a new marriage, whereupon she tricked him into visiting her in 1257and had him killed, announcing the following morning that he suddenly died during the night. Aybak's Mamelukes did not believe her, arrested her and carried her to his first wife who had her beaten to death with clogs and had her body thrown over the Citadel ramparts. Within a year of Shagaret Al-Dorr's undignified death, Al-Musta'sim – the Caliph who violently opposed her rule, writing to the Mamelukes of Egypt: ‘if you have no men left, tell us and we will send you one,' thus turning them against her and forcing her off the throne she filled so adequately and into a disastrous marriage that proved her doom – that man died a horrible ignominious death, after watching his citizens massacred, his treasury plundered, the palaces, mosques and hospitals of his city looted and destroyed, its magnificent buildings burned to the ground and the priceless contents of its Grand Library thrown into the river Tigris. Facing the threat of invasion by Mongol forces and allied troops led by Hulagu in 1258, Al-Musta'sim failed to gather armies to assist his forces in Baghdad and to strengthen the walls of the city. On 29 January, the Mongol army began a siege of Baghdad, and by 10 February, the city was captured, ransacked and destroyed. Al-Musta'sim's incompetence and indecisiveness as ruler, together with the treachery and lies of his grand vizier, Ibn Al-Alqami, ruined the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate for centuries. All the Caliph's sons but one were killed and he himself was rolled up in a rug and trampled to death by Mongol soldiers on horseback. To bring these two historical figures face to face, make each act as a foil for the other, and allow the spectators to compare them and draw their own conclusions, El-Salamouni resorted to his favourite play-within-a play technique, setting the action in an imaginary inn in Baghdad, owned by a former maid of Shagaret Al-Dorr who fled Egypt after the murder of her mistress. Every night, this maid impersonates her dead mistress and enacts her story with help from a versatile waitress and the guests of the inn. Her purpose is to vindicate her mistress and point out the root cause of her tragedy – namely, being a woman in a male-dominated patriarchal society that dwarfs women, suppresses their natural gifts, forces them to resort to deception and intrigue, and denies them dignity and the right to achieve their full potential as human beings and active, creative members of society. The blame for the downfall of Shagaret Al-Dorr is fully laid at the door of Al-Musta'sim. One night, however – the night that constitutes the temporal framework of the play and also coincides with the invasion of Baghdad – Al-Musta'sim walks into the inn with his grand vizier, Ibn Al-Alqami, both disguised as merchants, to see for themselves how the Caliph's subjects live and hear what they say about him – a common ploy in folk tales and The Arabian Nights. The nightly dramatic ritual, which constitutes the play-within-the play, soon begins after some bustling preparations. It progresses with intermittent farcical interruptions due to the ineptitude of the amateur actors. These hitches serve to stress the theatricality of the whole affair and provide some comic relief from the somber the atmosphere and intense conflicts in the enacted drama. When the story reaches the point where the Caliph is blamed for forcing Shagaret Al-Dorr to abdicate in favour of her treacherous husband, Al-Musta'sim feels impelled to defend his action and argues for its propriety and correctness. When opposed, he breaks his disguise and calls in his guards – a typical reaction of a dictator. The appearance of the guards marks the end of the first part of the play. The second part takes place in the same setting and on the same night. Rumours of the imminent invasion have spread, and now the landlady, her waitress and guests decide to enact the dilemma facing the Caliph – namely: to surrender to Hulagu, or to fight, even when the chances of victory are slim. The Caliph and his vizier reappear, but this time they assure the cowering crowd that they are not really Al-Musta'sim and Ibn Al-Alqami, but merely 2 ordinary men that resemble them and are hired by the court to double for them in dangerous situations. Upon this, they are allowed to take part in the play as the real Caliph and his vizier and the debate begins. Bewitched by the beautiful landlady, or fake Shagaret Al-Dorr, the fake Caliph offers to marry her on condition that she relinquishes all public roles and political ambitions. She tries to argue with him, but we soon realize that the traditional male attitude towards women is so deeply ingrained and impervious to logic, reason, or commonsense. The debate over surrender or resistance, in which the vizier argues for the former course and the inn's mistress for the latter, is suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Hulagu and his soldiers, dragging the real Caliph in chains. It is all over. Director Shadi Sorour, who also had to play the grand vizier when the actor assigned the part withdrew from the cast at the last minute, handled this tricky text with intelligent calculation and delicacy, carefully orchestrating the sudden, frequent transitions from boisterous comedy to serious, convincing acting, and keeping a fine balance between the dramatic and didactic elements. He also gave the play a musical dimension in the form of satirical lyrics by Sameh Al-Ali, put to music and sung by Sameh Isa, together with Liqa' Sweidan, and accompanied by lively dances choreographed by Farouq Ga'far. This element at once stressed the political/feminist message of the play, bolstered its in-built theatricality and created a kind of alienation effect a la Brecht.The visual aspect of the performance, the work of set and costume designers Mohamed Saad and Nadia El-Meleigui, provided a harmonious blend of shapes and colours, at once simple and functional and true to the historical period of the subject while keeping a subtle distance from it to allow reflection on the present. Sorour's casting was brilliant, with Sawsan Badr doubling as the complex, multi-faceted Shagaret Al-Dorr and the alternately passionate, gentle and sorely vexed innkeeper, Ahmed Rateb as the imperious Caliph and his plebian double, and Liqa' Sweidan cleverly juggling the parts of the vivacious, shrewish waitress, the gentle, aristocratic wife of Louis IX, the cunning, grasping and vindictive first wife of Aybak, and the primitive, uncouth wife of Hulagu, besides dancing with nimbleness and elegance and singing with a clear, sweet voice: a truly versatile performer. The army of actors who played the supporting roles displayed a lot of comic talent and succeeded in individualizing the characters they played, however small the part. They forged distinctive styles, acting with verve and vitality, but also with great discipline. I loved re-visiting the Egyptian Pearl Tree, but what a pity it was so ruthlessly felled.
