The history of Alexandria's Zanqet Al-Settat district is just as picturesque as its name, finds Nader Habib They call it Zanqet Al-Settat, or "the women's squeeze". A warren of alleyways, narrow and winding, a virtual maze chock full of boutiques and stalls in downtown Alexandria that sells everything one can imagine, and a few unexpected things too. The window displays are not particularly fancy, and I didn't find the prices exactly cheap, but the charm comes in oodles. It is simply impossible to resist the temptation to press on. Once you get started, the backstreets keep beckoning you. You're tired, sweating and endlessly dodging other shoppers, or shoving against them, in a space not wider than four or five feet, but you keep on going. It's like a game of addition, the Big Squeeze, as I am tempted to call it. Time is irrelevant once you get into the Zanqet. Don't even embark on this particular adventure unless you have hours to spare. Once you're inside the Zanqet, there is no going back. So just settle in, get used to the pace and enjoy the experience. You get into the Zanqet from Midan Al-Manshiya, the biggest square in Alexandria. And while you walk into its shady alleys you may want to remember that this is where Rayya and Sekina once conducted business, two women who committed a series of legendary murders in the first half of the last century. They used to stake their victims out in this market. They would start talking to young and impressionable brides, invite them home, then kill them and steal their valuables. I enter the market through Sharei Faransa (France Street), which is lined with jewellery shops, toy shops and bridal gown shops. Most of the merchants, I notice, are women, and the buyers -- true to the name of the district as a whole -- are also largely women. Boundaries of class and education are irrelevant here. I see women in business suits and others in country garb, all here to shop for clothes and accessories. It is a great place for an aspiring artist, like Carla Nabil, to hang around in. She studies art at Alexandria University and tells me that her first visit to the market was perplexing. "I come here to buy material for my art classes. My teachers told me that this was the best place for buying art accessories. I remember that on my first visits to the market, I used to get lost. I needed to ask for directions more than once to get into the market. Then I started finding my way in with ease, but even then I had trouble finding my way out. But I've got good at it at last." Haj Hussein owns a small shop, not more than a metre and half in width. He sells artificial stones for designer jewellery. He says that the Zanqet hasn't changed much in shape over the years. "The only thing that has changed is the type of merchandise we sell. You may find one shop changing hands or business. But the Zanqet itself has never changed, and will never change," Hussein says. Hussein is an old hand at the market. For him, this is home. "This is the real Alexandria. This is where you meet the real people. We all stand together in times of hardship. We care for each other. And we don't try to steal customers from one another. Allah gives providence to all." In a shop for wedding accessories, Haj Mohamed, 60, is trying to talk a group of young women into buying a type of artificial stone. The girls, who intend to make their own jewellery, don't take his advice at first. He feigns anger and the girls relent, deciding to buy some of the stones. There is an intimacy in the market, one born of proximity. I go into a jewellery shop specialising in genuine precious stones. Inside the shop, two women are haggling with the merchant in English. Suddenly, everyone starts laughing, and I hear one of the women scolding the merchant for charging too much. The women tell me that they are old friends of the merchant and buy a few items from him whenever they visit Egypt. "He is honest and punctual. When we come on a visit, we need to collect our purchases before we leave again for America. So time is at a premium for us. He often charges us more, but we like coming here," one of the women tells me. The merchant, Saad Mohsen, says that personal rapport means a lot to him. "I treat Egyptians and foreigners in the same way. Friendship matters to me, and not just business. Everyone makes money at the end of the day, but having a rapport with the customer makes all the difference," he says. The owner of Mohsen's shop died a few years ago, leaving behind two children, Eric and Kevin. "I cannot wait for them to grow up and take over the business. I learned a lot from their father, Aram, who treated me like a brother. He even helped me buy a car and a flat. He was a great man." Mohsen started working in the Zanqet more than three decades ago. "The appearance of the shops hasn't changed. What has changed is the people. This place is a landmark, and an ancient one at that. When foreigners come to Alexandria, they make a point of coming here. The Zanqet is for Alexandria what Khan Al-Khalili is for Cairo. It's been here for over 100 years now," he adds. The history of the area is just as picturesque, with traders from North Africa settling in the vicinity in the early 20th century. At first, their market was known as Souq Al-Magharba (the Moors Market) and was in the heart of the commercial area, near Souq Al-Sagha (the Gold Market) and Souq Al-Kheit (the Thread Market). Souq Al-Kharratin (the Blacksmiths Market) and Souq Al-Attarin (Spice Market) were a few steps away. Shops in the Zanqet open early in the morning and stay open till late at night. There are no known times for opening and closing, since all depends on the time of year and the mood of the shop owners. Tourists from every imaginable nation shop in the Zanqet. The French, Italians and Greeks in particular like coming here, some of them being descendants of Alexandria-born families. The Magharba, or Moors, eventually sold many of their shops to the Jews. Curiously enough, the latter specialised in selling hajj (pilgrimage) outfits and the famous hand-woven carpets known as kelims. When the Jews left Egypt in the 1950s and 1960s, they sold their shops and flats to their Egyptian assistants. What adds to the charm of the Zanqet is the number of old mosques in its vicinity, some dating to the 18th century. All of these are "hanging mosques", in the sense that they are on the top floor, not at ground level as is the norm. Next time you visit the Zanqet, make a point of looking up at the Al-Shorbaji, Torbana and Al-Kharratin mosques. A few years ago, officials tried to remove the Zanqet from its present location, claiming that the area was in need of renovation. The merchants objected, saying that their businesses were historic and in need of preservation. Since then, a compromise has been reached. Shop façades have been renovated, awnings replaced and the entry and exit points look cleaner. Old timers tell me that the Zanqet used to have a White House, a place to resolve commercial conflicts. In the tradition of mediaeval times, when traders failed to resolve differences, they asked their elders for help. This tradition is gone now, but the memory of a place where money is not only made, but where friendships also grow, persists. How to get there: Off the Corniche where the Unknown Soldier stands, turn right at Manshiya Square. As you walk further down France Street you will find many alleyways that all lead to Zanqet Al-Settat. Once you find yourself in the market, you are all on your own
