Old people's homes are a new concept in caring for elderly grandparents, at least in Egypt. Samia Abdennour shares her experiences Let's face it: we are all growing old, or at least older, and some of us have already reached the stage when it is wise to plan ahead. Egypt's traditional social structure is family oriented. Unmarried children tend to live in the parental home, irrespective of age and status. The elderly are viewed with respect, as baraka (a blessing) to whom care and love are due, while children are neamah men Allah (a gift from God). A common saying is that al-awlad izwa (children are security). Until relatively recently, families in Egypt tended to live in large houses, with at least two generations residing together. The men worked outside the home, while the women looked after the household and raised the children. Grandparents lived with the rest of the family, basking in the attention of their children, in-laws, and especially grandchildren. However, time does not stand still. Society changes, and among the biggest changes the country has seen has been the growing number of educated women who have become wage earners in their own right and are no longer confined to their homes. Women supplement the household expenses -- in some cases their contribution provides the only income -- and adjustments have had to be made. Houses today are also much smaller than they were in the good old days, and with men and women working outside the home for long hours, meals and other necessities are no longer easily available to the elderly. Their once easy- going lifestyle has changed, and for many people there is little time left to look after the grandparents. A new solution in the shape of old people's homes has arisen in recent years. We cringe at the idea, of course, as it is not part of our culture. But sometimes it is necessary. My husband, who is 84 years old, and I, 77, live in a large house in Nasr City. It was always full of laughter, happiness and life when our four children were living with us. We encouraged them to be independent and were proud of their successes. We could not have imagined that when they had grown up they would branch off on independent careers in other countries. Today, all four live happily abroad. All of them have families and are making their way in the world. However, in the meantime my husband and I have grown older and the big happy family is no longer at hand. Our story is no exception: sooner or later we all come to accept that the days of whirlwind activity are over and a more subdued lifestyle must be followed. We also accept that our beloved children and grandchildren are no longer hovering around us to bring joy to our lives. We believe that it is enough to visit each other on a yearly basis, in addition to the new forms of technology -- e-mail and cell phones -- that allow us to keep in touch. But time takes its toll, and we no longer walk as energetically as we once did. Our reflexes are slower, and we begin to forget things. "Where did I leave my keys? Did I lock the door?" become regular questions, and visits to the doctor become more frequent, not to mention the heaps of medicines to be taken to keep up health and strength. Walking canes? Dentures? Hearing aids? These are a few of the items that might become necessities with age. We might dream of demanding that our children come home. "We need you," we might say. But of course, we don't. We lived the life we wanted. Now it is their turn. When my beloved husband's ailments and handicaps became too burdensome for me to cope with alone, or with temporary help, I had to look into alternatives and am happy to say that my children were in total agreement. Indeed, they encouraged me, and surfing the Net in search of a place with appropriate and acceptable conditions we came up with the name of "Dar Fouad Habib for the Elderly" (DFH). Entering the spacious lobby of the DFH, one is pleasantly welcomed by the twittering of birds in two large cages, a fountain in the middle, and green plants all around. It all looks very much like a posh hotel. The rooms, whether suites, singles or double occupancy, are all air-conditioned, with private bathrooms, a small balcony, a mini fridge, telephone and media unit. The elderly enjoy healthy food and exercise in a well-equipped work-out room. In addition to physiotherapy, there is a jacuzzi, hairdresser, laundry service, and, most importantly, round- the-clock medical supervision by qualified personnel. A visiting psychiatrist and social-services specialist are available on demand. All these services are rendered against an annual subscription of LE3,000 for a single room, LE5,000 for a double, and LE5,000 for a suite. A companion pays LE1,600 for accommodation. The DFH was built in 2000 by Dr Sameh Fouad Habib in memory of his father. On the road to Ismailia, its four-storey building has been built to give the elderly (over 55 years old), a healthy and respectful life in a caring and cheerful atmosphere regardless of their sex or faith. According to Dr Safwat Berzi, head of the DFH's medical department, it is the only old people's home in Egypt that accepts non- mobile senior citizens. Many of the residents are suffering from amnesia, dementia, Alzheimers disease, arteriosclerosis, or simply old age, while a few, like myself, are accompanying a spouse or simply running away from a lonely empty home in search of human company. Each resident has a helper dedicated to him 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The helper accompanies or wheels the elderly person to the restaurant, garden, and so on. The role of these attendants is of the utmost importance, as they are the constant companions of the elderly people. Through their efficient and kind care, they give a boost to the old people's fading morale. All these attendants are graduates from various institutes, and two of them are presently studying for their Masters degrees. The DFH is run by a qualified team, and director Adiba Wahba Saleh, who started the project with the owners from scratch, is a former professor of home economics. Saleh returned to Egypt in 1995, after spending 28 years in the US, where she received her MSc in Library Science and worked with the Board of Education in Nutrition for 20 years. She proudly displays the certificate of merit from the Ministry of Social Development, recognising her achievement in providing the best social services for senior citizens. Among its many activities, the DFH celebrates occasions such as Mother's Day, birthdays, Sham Al-Nassim, Ramadan, Christmas, and United Nations International Senior Citizens Day. On these occasions, the families of the residents are invited to join their loved ones. The residents also enjoy a weekly recital by a solo pianist. The annual holiday at the owner's villa in Maamoura, Alexandria, is the highlight of the home's activities, despite the many difficulties born by the staff regarding travel arrangements. With the full support of my immediate family, I have now been living with my husband at the DFH for the past two months. Being a mobile person and able to drive, I leave the DFH whenever I need to do other things or visit friends. Though the DFH is almost 30km outside Cairo, and the traffic to get there and back can be hellish, returning to such a pollution-free spot after a long hectic day in the city gives me an exceptionally relaxed feeling. In a country where habits sometimes endure only because "things have always been done that way," innovative ideas are not always easily accepted. A wide-eyed stony stare of disbelief followed by a wry smile was some people's first reaction when they heard that my husband and I had settled into our new home. I can imagine the comments that might have been made behind my back -- something like "pushing their parents out of sight. It's against our culture. It's not done." On the other hand, lots of friends and acquaintances who know about the home have given me a pat on the back and have expressed their admiration for our having dared to admit taking this step and breaking certain taboos. Unfortunately, probably fearing criticism from busy-bodies or from society in general, many families hold back from enquiring about well- run and easily affordable old people's homes in Egypt. The concept of care at home is so strongly rooted in society that the media encourages childless couples to foster an orphan in order to ensure their care when they grow old. Yet, the media seems to be ignorant of what this might entail. Care is much more than serving a meal, changing bed-sheets, and accompanying an old person to the bathroom. Instead, it can be a matter of care in the medical sense -- being strong enough to lift an ailing person physically, massaging lazy muscles, knowing what to do in an emergency and being able to take initiatives. Whatever the number of old people's homes in Egypt, more are still needed. There is a need to acquaint the public about such homes' availability and facilities, as well as about the very necessary role they could play in society. Thanks to modern medicine, we may all live longer, though perhaps not always as energetically as in days of yore. I am anxious to compile a guidebook to existing old people's homes in Egypt or to institutions that offer similar levels of care to ageing generations. Please e-mail me at [email protected]
