In the midst of chaotic campus life, Sara Abou Bakr finds a haven against life's stresses "Please lie down, relax. That's right. Now tell me what your problem is." With soft music in the background, this is the stereotypical therapist's line; and many believe it belongs solely in the movies. Not so at the Oun Psychiatric Centre, where many people like Asmaa, 25, have learned otherwise. On graduation, Asmaa felt alienated; she could not relate to society, a state that soon led to depression: "after being a straight A-student, I didn't even want to work." She is one of over 1,600 troubled souls who have sought help at "the Psychiatric Clinic", as the Oun Centre -- established in 2001 as a division of the Faculty of Arts -- is better known on campus. Belying the social prejudice against therapy, this number reflects a growth in the incidence of depression among the young. According to Fathi El-Sharqawi, Oun Centre director, "the number increases each year, however, they have nowhere to go." In 2006 alone, he estimates, there has been a five-per cent increase. The centre deals with behavioural problems, limiting its activities to therapy and never prescribing medication. Where medication is required, patients are referred to qualified psychiatrists, mostly at the Al-Azhar University Clinic, affiliated with the Faculty of Medicine rather than that of Arts. At LE25 per session, the Psychiatric Clinic is open to non-students as well. It is affordable, as El-Sharqawi stresses, something that makes it hard to see how such a small room hidden deep within one of the university's busiest faculties, should "provide the best therapy available", handling not only depression and personality disorders but addiction and learning disabilities. According to Abbas Mohamed, a social therapist at the centre, depression is the most common problem, especially among teenagers. And it can be dealt with. Asmaa's therapist, for example, "helped me find out the reason behind my depression -- inability to deal with people". With economic problems and (often related) family dysfunction, as well as the increasing pressures of day-to-day life in Cairo, depression, according to Mohamed, is spreading alarmingly. Autism is another malady the clinic knows how to deal with; a neurodevelopment disorder that renders the sufferer unable to communicate with people or even express basic needs. Abroad, there are specialised clinics provided with the latest gadgets to help autistic children. While not being a specialist centre, the Oun boasts personnel who are as effective to help the little angels. In the case of Haitham, not his real name, an autistic five-year-old who had been incapable of communicating his most basic needs -- hunger or thirst, for example -- the patience and persistence with which the therapists worked, in close coordination with his parents, have paid off. Haitham has now established a basic communication system and -- what counts as a feat for an autistic child -- even call his patents by name. Mohamed also works on the Hot Line, established in cooperation with the National Council for Childhood and Motherhood, a partner of Oun's and aimed at people under the age of 18 with a range of problems, including suicidal urges: "it takes a great deal of delicacy to deal with a teenager threatening to take his own life on the phone." With the frightening number of calls received daily, however, it seems necessary. The idea is to "calm them down", which requires immense patience and nerves of steel. For the Hot Line as for other tasks, El-Sharqawi selects the therapists according to their individual abilities and natural inclinations. But the most lucrative of the centre's activities is the courses it offers to people interested in becoming therapists themselves, or exploring the intricate complexities of the human psyche to some other end; since it is not supported by Ain Shams University, the centre must make its own money to survive. Which, thanks to these courses, it does. According to El-Sharqawi, by the end of last year it had about LE35,000 surplus income -- something he hopes to use for moving into a larger space to accommodate the growing number of patients. One interesting course offered to newlyweds aims to explain the complexities of married life to those who have recently embarked on it -- a progressive initiative which is proving popular and successful. When asked about the stigma of visiting a therapist, Asmaa flashed a defiant smile: "I don't care what society thinks -- it needs to change." Having heard about the centre from a friend, she has come a long way since first going, two years ago, convinced that people were too hypocritical to trust: she is a successful assistant professor and engaged to be married. Happily, many are following in Asmaa's footsteps. El-Sharqawi says the stereotype of the psychiatric institution as a madhouse is changing, with more people acknowledging the need "to talk to someone."
