The role of scribes in Egypt is no less significant now than it was in Pharaonic times. Khaled Abdel-Rasoul investigates He is unassuming -- sitting at a table, under an umbrella, in front of a court, a police station, or a post office. Yet he has and continues to play a central role in Egyptian society. He is the document writer, or the general scribe, and he is licensed to practise this profession under an administrative decision issued on 26 July 1894. The name ardahalgi, or document writer, appeared in Egypt in the 19th century. The word contains three components: ard- hal-gi. The first two -- ard-hal, or submission of review -- have been used to refer to a written complaint since the beginning of the 19th century. Until the 1970s, this usage was still current. The last syllable -- gi -- is a Turkish suffix used to create personal nouns relating to a profession, like the suffixes ist -- as in the word "artist" -- and er -- as in "archer" -- in English. The ardahalgi is, therefore, the man specialised in drafting written complaints and petitions. Egyptians have been submitting petitions to the authorities since Pharaonic times. The many who could not read and write would hire specialists to do the writing. For example, the petitions submitted by the man known to historians as the Eloquent Peasant were not written by him, but by hired scribes. In the second half of the 19th century, the ardahalgi profession came under government regulation for the first time. This was done in an attempt to streamline the system of petitions in the country, as the government sought to consolidate centralisation and reach out to the peasants directly. According to Emad Hilal, the author of a recent study on the subject that will soon be published, the ardahalgi started out as being the man selling the duty stamps stuck on official petitions. Soon, they branched out into petition writing. The ardahalgis were literate, but not always highly educated, as is evidenced by the many grammatical and spelling errors found in the ardahals of the 19th century. "The style of writing improved somewhat with the beginning of the literary revival of the early 20th century, when major poets -- Al-Barudi and Ahmed Shawqi, among others -- brought up the cultural and linguistic standards in the country," said Wahid El-Maraghi, himself an ardahalgi since 1962. El-Maraghi, also a novelist and member of the Writers Association, noted that "during the first half of the 20th century and into the 1960s, the ardahalgi was either a maazoun [marriage notary], a faqih [religious scholar], or even an author. The ardahalgi played an important role in writing petitions in a society where most people were illiterate. He was the link between people and government." After the 1952 Revolution, things changed. Petitions became particularly important under former President Gamal Abdel-Nasser. "The president read some of these petitions in person and used them in making policy decisions," says Gamal Shaqra, a specialist in the history of the July Revolution. In the same vein veteran ardahalgi Fawzi Hussein noted that "the modernisation brought about by the revolution intensified communication between people and government. This increased the relevance of the ardahalgis, who often served as minders for people doing transactions with the government." This was when ardahalgis became permanent fixtures found near government departments, police stations, and courts in particular. In every Egyptian village, one or two ardahalgis were always at hand to provide this vital service to the public. The variety of tasks the ardahalgi assumes is immense. "In front of a major law courts complex, such as the one where I worked in downtown Cairo, one would write sales contracts, inheritance notifications, financial petitions for under-age children, legal action documents, alimony case petitions, all of which are things lawyers should do, but I can do them too," said El-Maraghi. "We also write civil action cases, such as complaints against a thug who terrorises people, against a landlord who wants to evacuate tenants, and against employers who deny workers their rights." The role of the scribe is slightly different in rural areas. At the government complex at Shebin Al-Kum in Menoufiya, the ardahalgi also doubles as a minder for those who want to go through the passport issuance steps -- although the required procedure is displayed in big print on the wall. Fawzi Hussein, a local ardahalgi, helps people fill out documents, write petitions, and get papers through the complex government bureaucracy. In the nearby village of Bir Shams, Mohamed El-Sayed, another veteran in the business, helps citizens register on voting lists. "Most of the complaints I handle have to do with farming," he said. "People file complaints against the local bank for failing to provide them with the services they need, or against the local planning authorities for failing to give them permits to build a barn. Of course, many complaints are filed by individuals against each other," he added. On the outset, the ardahalgi seems to play an important role in implementing justice. But on occasions he will do the opposite, and write out a complaint for someone who is known to be fabricating facts. He may also write complaints for the two sides of the same dispute. This is perhaps why ardahalgis are sometimes seen as mongers of hatred, explained one of the inhabitants of Bir Shams. Although this was more the case in the past, ardahalgis still tend to be better educated than the average locals. With almost one-third of the nation still illiterate, according to official statistics, ardahalgis are indispensable, particularly in the rural areas. Also, the ardahalgis are usually well-acquainted with the labyrinthine government system and may offer bureaucratic short-cuts -- at an extra cost, of course -- thus leading even the more educated to approach them, Hussein admitted. Another advantage is that ardahalgis charge much less than lawyers. The fee they charge per document ranges from LE1 in Menoufiya to LE5 in Cairo. The profession is falling on hard times, however. For one thing, people resort much less than before to complaints as a way of resolving differences, noted El- Maraghi. In addition, many unqualified, even unlicensed, individuals are trying to get into the profession, complained Mohamed Abdel-Aziz, 73, a licensed ardahalgi who works at the notary public in Shobra, Cairo. Many law graduates, having failed to find appropriate employment, are seeking work as ardahalgis, said Hassan Ibrahim, who has been in the profession since 1948. Interestingly, women are also showing a growing interest in this profession. Sara Ahmed, a young woman with a recent diploma in commerce, now works as ardahalgi in front of the traffic department in Shebin Al-Kum. "We can't find jobs, so we improvise," she said.
