Riddle me this

By Injy El-Kashef
From top: favourite fawazir stars Sherihan, Nelly in action and Samir Ghanem as Fattouta
Ramadan's fawazir (riddles) have been cancelled this year. I mention this in writing because, surprisingly, many people did not even notice. Those who did notice didn't think twice about it; and those who thought about it found it a very good thing indeed. "Oh, are they really? That's better -- actually, it's about time." I heard many variations on this answer during the course of a little investigation I conducted for this article. After a few interviews, it became resoundingly clear that for years Egyptian television had been working very hard to keep alive a show that very few people actually wanted to see.
In recent times, the fawazir -- a Ramadan staple for decades, in which the riddle's topic was acted out daily through song and dance -- have evolved into an entirely different yearly challenge: which of our numerous multi-talented actors and actresses are still capable of gracefully performing the post-iftar bouncing without embarrassing anybody, particularly themselves? The fawazir have been an unquestionable part of Ramadan, so it was beyond any doubt that someone would eventually be fished out for the purpose. The public, caught in the game, would speculate, exchange opinions and show temporary interest until the matter was resolved and a candidate was chosen. Most people would make a point of watching the fazzoura (riddle) for the first day or two, just to be able to pass a judgement and share a common subject for family discussion during extended iftars (where the main topic of conversation is inevitably television programming -- during the few minutes of adverts between soap operas, that is).
The Bairam Al-Tounsi/Salah Jahin-scripted radio fawazir graduated to the small screen with the onset of TV broadcasting in Egypt. Director Mohamed Salem cast Al-Tholathi (literally "the trio", composed of Samir Ghanem, George Sidhom and the late El-Deif Ahmed), whose absolutely hilarious lines were scripted Hussein El-Sayed. Shortly after Ahmed's death, Al-Tholathi disintegrated, and the fawazir starred Amin El-Heneidi. Later Safaa Abul-Seoud took over the show for some time. Then came the biggest success of them all, the true fawazir icon, Nelly, whose incredible success was also largely due to Salah Jahin's temporary contribution.
Nelly had all it took to be the perfect fawazir star: she was a pretty woman, with blond hair and a good figure -- costumes looked good on her.
She was graceful and had mastered a coy demeanour that appealed to most of the audience. She also had the added advantage of arriving with the advent of colour TV. After Nelly, Samir Ghanem was back, alone this time, with his companion Fattouta (a superimposed reduced image of himself in a huge green suit, immense shoes, a curly wig and an animated voice). He too became enormously popular, although the memory of Nelly shadowed his success. Sherihan starred the next few years, with her young, elastic body, her elaborate and expensive costumes and her even coyer attitude.
Those were the golden years of the fawazir, when good artists worked on all production levels and the audience, consequently, truly enjoyed and looked forward to them. They were also the years that offered the highest prizes, monetary or otherwise, and the rewards reached ridiculous proportions. During most of these years, late director Fahmi Abdel-Hamid's name became almost synonymous with the show, as his contribution was at the peak of its popularity -- before commercials and couch-potato-targeted programmes began to occupy television's extensive Ramadan schedule.
The years that followed witnessed an awful decline. In a nutshell, it seemed as though they just chose anyone, qualified for the job or not (most often not). The fawazir were running on autopilot, and casting them became a fill-in-the-blank situation. Figures like Sherine Reda, Sabrine, Hala Fouad with Yehia El-Fakharani, Gihane Nasr, Wael Nour and even tenor Hassan Kami accompanied by Sherine Seif El-Nasr all put in a few stints and the great majority of these were honestly quite bad. As a result, nobody seemed to watch them any more. The point is, however, that they still kept coming back year after year after year.
This year we have been given a long-earned break. Of all the people I spoke with, not one person, young or old, rich or poor, mourns the fawazir's absence. Quite to the contrary, it seems that their cancellation was so long overdue that most people were left completely indifferent. But what about all those fabulous prizes? Do people feel the loss of their chance to win big huge sums of money? "Have you ever, in all these years, with all the people you know in all your combined social circles, heard of anyone who won any of those so-called prizes?" jeered one woman. "Because I haven't, and I seriously doubt that I ever will. They probably don't even exist." The response was typical of people I spoke with.
What I found disturbing, maybe even bordering on disturbed, is the rumour about the return of the fawazir next year, despite the fact that as far as the general public is concerned, it is a clear case of merci, au revoir.
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