Walking the tight-rope

The tiger ate the man's leg; but who is the real culprit wonders Dena Rashed as she pulls back the curtain on working conditions at Egypt's national circus
To the innocent observer, what is the circus? Clowns juggling, lions and tigers prancing, lights flashing, colours ablaze. But even a cursory glimpse behind the scenes at the Egyptian National Circus (ENC) reveals a grim world of marginalised and frustrated entertainers.
Two weeks ago, Soliman Ashour, a 52-year-old guard, lost his leg in an attack by one of the circus's tigers, Mohsen. While walking over Mohsen's cage, Ashour lost his balance and fell through an opening, exposing himself to the tiger. It is the kind of horrible accident that should be rare -- but they do happen. Sadly, incidents such as this are simply accepted as part of the job. It should have come as no surprise that Ashour has no health coverage, no social insurance, no right to compensation and no retirement benefits. As it turns out, he is not the only one. Many trainers, guards and technicians are employed without benefits, save their meagre wages, which average LE100 a month.
Hoda Abul-Leil, the circus's ringmaster, wasn't always planted on the ground. In her heyday, she was an acrobat, but a terrible fall during a show led to serious injuries. Even so, Abul-Leil counts herself among the lucky. "We are all expected to fall -- even the best of us. I was lucky because I was insured. Many of those working in the circus are not," she told Al-Ahram Weekly.
The first thing that strikes you when you enter the circus grounds is the shabby state of the tent. At midday, the sun pierced through the torn and ragged canvas, spreading splotches of bright sunlight inside the tent. On cold winter nights, it can become unbearable, workers say. Pointing to the shoddy seating, Mohamed Abu Leila, the ENC's director, is frank: "Personally, I pity the audience when they come and sit in such cold weather, in such poor conditions, to watch the shows that we offer." Abu Leila, himself a legendary acrobat, was among the first Egyptian performers to get a diploma in circus arts from Moscow in 1979.
"Our audience deserves much better," he told the Weekly. "When I see a father with his children leaving the show because of the uncomfortable conditions, I try to do my best to bring them back to the show -- but I know they have a point."
Backstage, circus performers have to make do with the space between animal cages as they try to practice their routines. The animals, looking unhealthy and cramped, stare listlessly out from behind bars. Mohamed El-Helw, one of the circus's well-known lion tamers, was reluctant to speak to the Weekly. One of his colleagues remarked that he "has not been feeling well since one of his tigers attacked the guard."
Both the performers and the animals share only one ring. "I find it very difficult to perform since we all rehearse in the same ring and therefore my training time is limited," complained Adel, one of the young acrobats at the circus. But this is only one of the many problems performers encounter at the circus. Asked what was the most difficult constraint of circus life, most answered, "Not enough money."
Adel and Abu Leila pointed out that it is uncommonly difficult to be a part of the circus and also afford a family. "Adel is married with two kids and his salary is LE250 per month," confides Abu Leila. "Also, he has to take on all the risks involved in performing." Abu Leila confided, noting that it is a shame that life has to be so hard for a promising young performer. "He is very hard-working," adds Abu Leila. "He developed four shows of his own."
The price of this effort is high. Because the funds available for new costumes, training and equipment are so limited, Adel had to foot the bill for his new shows himself. The lion tamers, Mohamed El-Helw and Medhat Kouta, own the wild animals they train. They do receive a salary, but they maintain it is hardly enough.
"But I love the circus," exclaims Adel. "I will stay here as long as I can. I could have looked for a job elsewhere, but I just feel I am truly myself here." Adel's optimism and perseverance, however, is not a common sentiment among circus staff.
"If I could turn back time, I would have chosen another career," admits the lion tamer, Medhat Kouta. He is one of the top lion tamers in the country and a star of the show. His remorse is surprising, as the trade is in his blood. His mother, Mahasin El-Helw, was a famous lion tamer, and his own son is also involved in the circus as both lion tamer and a snake charmer.
"I joined the circus at the age of 14 and have contributed a lot to its existence," Kouta said. "But now I am 45 and I feel I have grown old. I can't bear it anymore." It is not the effort that is the problem, he says, but the lack of appreciation that he and other artists at the circus receive. "I have dedicated my whole life to the circus, but I can't do it anymore. I don't feel rewarded as an artist," he said angrily.
"We suffer from negligence," Abu Leila told the Weekly, "Even the minister of culture hasn't visited us. The only time was in the early 1990s, when the circus gate was renovated," he said. Remembering the days when the writer Youssef El-Sebai was the minister of culture, in the 1970s, Abu Leila grows nostalgic. "When a fire broke out in the circus in 1975, we all found El-Sebai here alongside us putting out the fire. That showed us what support really means."
Kouta is more blunt: "I wish we could be part of the Ministry of Agriculture, not the Ministry of Culture," he fumed. "The zoo is part of the Ministry of Agriculture and they receive better financial assistance."
There have been numerous plans to reform the circus, including a plan introduced by the Ministry of Culture in 1995, but it was never implemented. A new plan in the works would earmark some LE21 million to bring the circus up to international standard.
But the head of the cultural arts sector at the Ministry of Culture, Hamed El-Gabri, told the Weekly that he feels the circus receives sufficient financial assistance. "They receive enough money," he said. "The problem lies in the losses. Since the early 1990s, the circus has lost between LE4 million and LE5 million every year," he said, furious.
But the ENC's director points out that performers' costumes, when not shoddy, are made at their own expense. "If you watch the show and see that some of the performers are wearing very nice, elaborate costumes, you have to know that they paid for them with their own money," he said. One of the acrobats, Mohamed Khamis, piped in: "We don't even have basic medical kit."
All of which seems a real shame when you consider the ENC's history. The only national circus in the region, it was a prime source of family entertainment in the 1960s and 1970s. In 1966, President Gamal Abdel-Nasser encouraged the development of a circus school that would be based at Abdin Palace, but the project was later abandoned. "The whole system of the circus revolves around the idea of training the youngsters and the children," the ENC's Abu Leila said. "Have you ever heard of a circus without a school that develops new stars?" he asked.
Another problem, adds Kouta, is the child labour law, which prohibits children under the age of 12 to join the circus. The result is that the numbers of circus performers is shrinking. According to Kouta, older performers are not given the chance to pass on their experience to children when they are still young. Of course, it is not this simple -- an accident that took place a couple of years ago in which a 14-year-old boy was eaten by a tiger at a private circus illustrates the dangers children of the circus face. Kouta agues, however, that "It is the same as the ballet, or acting. Does it mean we have to forbid kids from starting young in these arts as well?"
It is sad to know that those whose life it is to bring happiness are not happy themselves. "They want the circus dead," said Kouta angrily. "Nobody cares anymore about the circus."
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