Although 13 years have passed since Al-Ahram Weekly's founding editor Hosny Guindy left this world, his loss is still keenly felt at the newspaper, the house – where I happen to have been a lifelong neighbour of the Guindies' – and beyond. This is the most difficult task I've ever been assigned. It is refreshing to remember what were truly better times but painful to mull over Guindy's departure. Visiting Guindy's wife Moushira Abdel-Malek brought back all kinds of memories. A quarter of a century ago, the 49-year-old Hosny Guindy Habib was chosen to fulfill the most important project Al-Ahram organisation had ever attempted: to launch an English-language newspaper. Many witnessed the realisation of Al-Ahram Weekly, so did his life partner Moushira Abdel-Malek, who felt proud. “Hosny at that time was assistant to the chief editor and CEO Ibrahim Nafie and in charge of the Friday issue of the daily Al-Ahram. When Nafie asked him to start the newspaper he was almost shocked. Hosny hates to be taken by surprise. His very spontaneous reaction was to say no. Nafie knew Guindy's capabilities and would not take a no for an answer, however, so he started persuading him that all the difficulties would be overcome. All he had to do was recruit a staff and visualise the skeleton of the contents and of course the perspective of the paper,” Moushira recalled, remembering the day he came home looking heavy-hearted. “Something is very wrong,” he eventually confessed, when she pressed him. “I've been asked to start working on launching an English newspaper.” “But this is good news,” she responded. “I'll be the chief editor, I don't think I can take it,” he said. “I am not meant to be a chief editor, I am meant to be behind the scenes, which I've been doing all my life.” When Guindy was first appointed to Al-Ahram in 1964, he had been recruited by Nawal Al-Mehallawi, the then editor-in-chief and CEO Mohamed Hassanein Heikal's famed assistant. She had known him at the American University in Cairo, and she asked him to join the Foreign Desk. “He was not happy with this as what he had dreamt of doing all his life was investigative journalism,” Moushira recalled. “But this is where there is a vacancy for you and this is where I want you to be,” Al-Mehallawi told him. Guindy thought this would be more of a translation job, and he wasn't interested, but Al-Mehallawi eventually convinced Guindy with the promise that things would change in the future. Though Guindy eventually became the Foreign Desk editor, they never did. “At that time he was under Jaqueline Khouri who later became a very close friend of the family's, including Hosny's mother, and treated him like a son.” Guindy might have disliked the nature of the job, but working under his role model, Heikal, was a dream come true. “Heikal remained his idol all through.” Before Guindy joined Al-Ahram, he read Heikal's column Besaraha (Frankly) religiously every Friday, analysing and admiring it. When he found out he could not fulfill his dream of writing, he said, “It's rewarding enough that I am under the chairmanship of a great journalist like Ustaz Heikal.” At that time everybody was absorbed in Heikal's closeness to president Gamal Abdel-Nasser. Heikal and Guindy shared a deep respect for each other before their relationship developed at the personal and social levels. “When it was time for Ustaz Heikal to leave Al-Ahram in 1974, it was a day of mourning for Hosny and for us all,” Moushira says. “Everything is falling apart, I do not know if this place will ever be the same again,” he told her, in tears. It was a phrase often heard at the Weekly following Ustaz Hosny's passing. Hosny Guindy believed that Abdel-Hamid Saraya, Al-Ahram's Central Desk editor, had a role to play in his career. “He always looked up to the man as a professional journalist who taught him a lot.” At this point Moushira pointed to where I was sitting as she said, “This was where Saraya's wife, the actress Naima Wasfi, used to sit when we invited them over on New Year's Eve.” Ustaz Hosny had an iron will – and the deepest commitment to quality. He personally recruited and built his editorial team. After placing an advertisement in Al-Ahram he used to go home carrying piles of CVs. “At the beginning I used to look at them and do the filtering.” At that time Louis Greiss's name was suggested by Nafie as someone who could be of help. When things started for real Guindy panicked. After the failure of a verbal attempt he decided to put his resignation in writing: “Mr Nafie, kindly accept my resignation as the chief editor of the English newspaper you have appointed me to head...” The reaction was fierce. Nafie would accept no such “sabotage” as he called it then and refused to let the matter be brought up ever again. “I was present at the meetings of Hosny and Louis outside Al-Ahram,” Moushira remembers, “and while he brainstormed with Samir Sobhi at his office.” This took a year and half. “In the meantime Hosny asked Mohamed Salmawy to come on board.” Interviews were conducted in the old Al-Ahram building, before the operation was moved to the new one in 1993. One person would lead to another. “The example I know of is Mona Anis, who brought along Hani Shukrallah.” The Weekly family he presided over was a combination of Muslims, Christians and occasionally Jews, many women, some men and a few expatriates. Ustaz Hosny believed in women although he knew recruiting too many of them might create problems. “That's true. He encountered this while working at the Foreign Desk. Once his female colleagues were married, they got pregnant and stayed at home to raise their children. At some point the desk became completely empty – so it was a risk.” But Guindy didn't have the luxury not to choose a competent female applicant for the Weekly. By now several generations of reporters and editors have risen through the ranks of Al-Ahram in the Weekly, shaped and influenced by Guindy's leadership. One of his most remarkable traits as an editor was his support for and encouragement of younger staff. “The Gulf Crisis was blasting away while Hosny fought to publish the first issue,” Moushira remembers. At the age of 9-10 Yasmeen, their only daughter, would sometimes accompany her father to the office while the zero issues were being produced at the old building – and later during the first year of the Weekly in the new. She grew close to the Weekly staff, many of whom became friends. Years later when it was time to choose a career, she thought she might study mass communication like her father. “But Hosny was adamant,” Moushira recalls. “He just would not let her become a journalist because he didn't want her to suffer like he had.” Another friend who played a pivotal role in the newspaper was Mursi Saad El-Din, the former minister of information and another neighbour of the Guindies'. He lived in the same block of flats. Saad El-Din became the culture editor and a columnist. As a high-profile figure, he contributed much to the growth of the paper. “Hosny used to consult Mursi at the beginning, then he became the Weekly's culture editor and columnist. We have been close family friends since the mid-1970s.” Saad El-Din's son Hamdi also became the features page editor for several years. While the zero issues were being produced, Guindy worked for 16-20 hours a day. “He was never home before 2 or 3 am,” Moushira said. Later when I joined his office as an administrative assistant in the summer of 1993, I remember how embarrassing Ustaz Hosny found those issues compared to the later ones, at the time. When the Weekly was given its new offices on the 9th floor of the new building, Guindy was keen to know what Moushira thought of his office. “When I decided to drink coffee, Hosny jumped out of his swirling seat and left the room. I knew there must be a button somewhere to call the office boy. I had spotted a set of those. In a few moments Hosny was back, and then a gentleman came in. He introduced him to me as ‘Adel, my colleague'. I shook hands with Adel who asked me how I liked my coffee...” Guindy was that humble. Whenever he asked a staff member to do anything, he would begin with the phrase “if you please”. An angelic figure – sensitive, delicate and shy. He was a glowing example of ethical conduct and human decency. Guindy never behaved like a boss. He never sat in his office with the door locked, and he was always around in his blue jeans, with his sleeves rolled up, either in the managing editor's office, assistant chief editor's, the central desk or the layout room. Actually his favourite room was the latter. He used to find himself there. Together with his friend and colleague Samir Sobhi and the young designers, he gave Al-Ahram Weekly its unique, serious and distinctive look. He had a refined visual taste, and his aesthetic touch could be seen in the newspaper's layout. “For example, the folded newspaper arriving with the front page photo divided down the middle or with only a quarter of it showing, or without the complete caption, was murder to Hosny.” Every Friday the Guindy couple used to sit down and discuss every single item in the new issue that appeared the day before. He was always so proud of the layout of the paper and the photos he selected for publication. He had a clear vision of what makes a good photo, and provided ample space in the newspaper – especially its front page – for visual material. He never liked to crop a photo before publishing it. He would be upset if it had to be done because he appreciated the beauty as much as the message of the photo and respected the photographer's lens. Sometimes he needed to kneel down on the floor of the archives room to fetch a photo he knew he had seen before. “Not once did he ever publish a photo of Mubarak on the front page of the Weekly,” Moushira stated. She remembered how proud he was to mention that to her one day. Guindy's byline rarely appeared in the newspaper but the influence he had on each and every page of the newspaper was palpable. Ustaz Hosny's love of the arts was such he might be called an arts fanatic. Art was an essential part of his daily life. He never missed an exhibition, with the celebrated painter Sabry Ragheb becoming his weak point, in time. Ragheb's work fills the walls of the Guindies' apartment. “He used to love watching Ragheb paint and would sit by his side for hours.” Abdel- Halim Hafez and Nat King Cole had special places in Hosny's heart, too. “Not only them but also Abdel-Wahab and Umm Kulthum,” Moushira revealed. Music was crucial. “But, yes, especially Halim and Cole.” What no one would've known if not for her testimony is that “Hosny always identified himself with Hafez in the constitution of his character. Both were orphaned and both caught illness at an early age.” He linked his melancholic nature to that of Abdel-Halim Hafez. Ustaz Hosny never gave himself the power to use the newspaper as a means to a personal goal. Al-Ahram chief editors, writers and columnists were given certain domestic phone lines that were not paid for, to use for work purposes. “He never had one, he never asked for such minor things, he wished the Weekly had enough computers instead, to help the flow of work.” He never made a single request for himself or for his own use for as long as he lived. In his first year as chief editor, Guindy never had a personal car and driver from Al-Ahram like the rest. “He would wait in the street at 2 or 3 am, summer and winter, until he found a cab when informed there were no cars available at the Al-Ahram transportation department,” remembers Moushira. By coincidence Nafie found out about this and decided to assign a car to the editor-in-chief of the Weekly. In my own experience, Ustaz Hosny was always hesitant about using the office photocopying machine for purposes other than work, so wary was he of abusing public funds. “Journalism was never a nine-to-five job,” Guindy used to tell people. He spent an inordinate number of hours at the newspaper, he could never give his family as much time as his brainchild, his “baby” as he used to call it. “It was tough on me and Yasmeen of course but I was very understanding of the nature of his work because I was somehow involved.” For a certain period of time, Moushira joined the Weekly staff to help with proofreading: “Hosny noticed I had the ability to spot mistakes, so he decided to involve me in this.” Not much after the launch of the Weekly, Ustaz Hosny fell ill. In 1991, he had to go to Nottingham, England, to see a thoracic surgeon. At that time one of Guindy's lungs was fibrotic but according to Moushira the British system is not aggressive in surgeries. “We discovered that later in 1996, when we went to Houston and three quarters of one lung were removed as he had caught a fungal infection. The fibrotic part of his lung should have been removed from day one when it was discovered. This resulted in another medical trip to Houston the year after.” Ustaz Hosny was a melancholic person. His father passed away when he was 10, back in Qena, where he was born. This had a traumatic effect on him. “Death to Upper Egyptians was the end of the world,” Moushira said. “His mother removed all the furniture and no living plant could remain in the house. She put cushions on the floors draped in black for mourners.” That, then, was the atmosphere in which Ustaz Hosny grew up, seeing his 30-year-old mother widowed, devastated and forever dressed in black. What is more, Ustaz Hosny was born with the Familial Meditteranean Fever (FMF) which, though not contagious, runs in families like diabetes or high blood pressure. It was discovered at an early age. According to his mother Kawkab, his first FMF attack occurred at the age of eight. The Guindy – Kawkab with her two sons Raafat and Hosny and her daughter Mona – used to spend time in Reading, England for educational purposes, back in the early 1960s. “Hosny underwent an open abdominal discovery operation in England to see what could be done regarding the FMF, a disease that was not familiar in Europe at that time. But as he didn't have the attack, doctors couldn't do anything. They closed the incision and let him go.” That too, Ustaz Hosny had to live with. His Egyptian physicians found temporary cures for the fever but he went on having attacks all through his life, even while fighting to get the Weekly on its feet. Guindy was always keen on “the Egyptian perspective” of the paper. He was liberal and allowed a range of opinions, but he insisted that the writing should emanate from a homegrown Egyptian viewpoint. “He always reminded his reporters and editors that they worked for Al-Ahram,” Moushira recalled, “a well established, authentic newspaper among the ten most important in the world.” Ustaz Hosny was also a perfectionist. In his professional life he was never satisfied, he was always critical of his own performance, and for that reason he used to see the bad before the good. He was also neurotic regarding his credibility and integrity. I believe that on the long run, this had affected his health, along with the guilt he felt towards his family and colleagues when he was hospitalised whether in Egypt or abroad. Yet he would always bounce back with that kind smile on his face, revealing no sign of pain or agony. Totally absorbed in work, worn out and almost drained, Ustaz Hosny still would accept receiving everyone and anyone knocking at his door, at any time; other than during meetings. Caring about his health and trying as much as possible to decrease exerted pressure, my colleague Heba and I had always tried to filter such interruptions caused by guests and sometimes intruders. If by coincidence he would open his office door which leads to ours, spotting whoever is waiting for him in our office, he would ask the person in, despite our efforts, causing some unnecessary embarrassment to all parties, only because he could never act but as a true gentleman. His self denial was unbeatable all through his behaviour and at all situations. Hosny Guindy had two battles to fight during his lifetime: his battle with illness and his battle with work. With will power he managed to overcome several health and work crises. But in the case of his baby, he was always victorious. Working for the Weekly was like a “calling” as Moushira described it. The devoted Hosny was the prophet chosen to fulfill it. Guindy had studied psychology as well as journalism. Despite the pressures of the office, he remained a tolerant man, always willing to listen to people's problems and find solutions for them and endeavouring to be as honest and as fair as he could when resolving the conflicts that inevitably erupted. His noble nature was beyond human. His concern with the staff personnel was amazing. When away, he would ask Heba or myself about each and every person who had earlier acquainted him with a problem or an ailment or a need. August 10, 2003. My cell phone rings, its screen reads the name Jailan, my colleague. My heartbeats go louder and I am afraid to answer but I have to. Deep down I knew the news I will get, yet I don't want to hear it. She was in tears screaming, “Nora it's over… Ustaz Hosny is gone.” I was in Alexandria and decided to leave immediately by train. It was nine o'clock in the evening when I arrived Cairo train station. I decided to step into our office on my way home. Al-Ahram security offered me condolences, couldn't answer back as still couldn't accept the sad reality. I collected Moushira's and Yasmeen's photos placed on his desk and left the building. I went back home then reached their apartment, adjacent to the building where I live. Moushira opened the door devastated, thrown into each other's arms, both our pouring tears mingled together, eyes staring at each other, yet saying it all. I had visited them a lot but this was the first time I visit them and he is not there. I saw him in each corner, on every painting, his pipes that he had been deprived from, his belongings. I stayed a while and then went home; sad and grieving, to face a new era void of Hosny Guindy, empty of his fatherly tenderness and his unparalleled humanity. “You should always assume that people act in good faith and always mean well, until proven otherwise,” Ustaz Hosny often told me. The sentence still rings a bell. When he was gone he left a huge gaping void in his place. I had dreaded that day, but fate prevailed, though his gentle soul and transparent spirit will always remain with us, hovering around us for as long as we live. In his tribute to Guindy on the fortieth day after his death, Heikal praised the Weekly, its chief editor and editorial team, who “managed,” he wrote, “to create a unique formula that surpassed original expectations so much it made the newspaper appeal to a wide readership, not just locally but abroad”. Heikal described his student as “a quiet man in a very distinctive way, quiet in the way the Nile flows quietly across Egypt, bringing life, goodness and prosperity”... No wonder Hosny Guindy was awarded the Journalistic Code of Ethics award ever since he founded Al-Ahram Weekly. He did not commit a single infringement of the code until his departure. Like Heikal, a Nasserist to the marrow of his bones, Hosny Guindy bore some resemblances to the late leader. Both were faithful, loving and caring and each was devoted to his calling. Moushira, a Nasserist like her husband, agrees: “A leader should be aware of the acts of his subordinates to avoid the kind of errors that can soil his name, his fame or political record.” When I asked Moushira how she imagined Ustaz Hosny would have responded to political developments in Egypt since the 2011 Revolution, had he been around, she immediately answered, “No, no, no, never. God has been very kind and tender to Hosny to spare him witnessing what we've been through. This would've been beyond what he could bear.” With tears in her eyes – I was equally tearful – Moushira wished Hosny would have witnessed and seen Hannah, his granddaughter. “This hurts me very much,” she said, as their daughter Yasmeen was the apple of his eye, and so would Hannah have been.
