Over 20 years ago, after aving spent weeks searching for an apartment in Maadi, we were delighted when we found one, not only with lifts but with a large patio and a view. Looking west across the Nile, which was itself invisible, we could see the Giza Pyramids, at least the two largest, and with binoculars the smaller Queen burial places. We felt privileged indeed. Many people never see them in their lifetime. Here we were with them in front of us and we could watch the bright orange disc of the sun sinking between them, for it was close to the Spring Equinox when we moved in. On clear days I could see the Pyramids of Dahshur, and further left, the Step Pyramid at Sakkara and the odd remains of one far away in the desert. What lay in between was hardly beautiful. A couple of towers on the Corniche, and a spread of two- and three-storey buildings, seemingly without a plan but crowded close together. They came to a stop a few meters from the railway line, which ran across about 200 yard from us. The two-storey buildings had artisan shops at ground level spewed their car tires, wood shavings and exhaust pipes from their open fronts, while the workers banged and clanged and drilled through their daily labors. Separating our apartment, and one or two others in various stages of completion, from this "Arab Quarter was a stretch of wasteland not yet built upon but littered with all manner of hardware and heaps of rubbish. And apart from about an acre of green in front of us (that we were promised "would never be built on ), this wasteland was the usual dreary grey-brown. But when the sun rose after the cement covered train had tooted its way past at about 6 am, it lit up not only the Pyramids but transformed this humble hotchpotch of redbrick buildings into a "golden city for 20 minutes or so. A little later the red and yellow foul wagon would appear, drawn by a donkey as people queued with bowls for the family breakfast. At about the same time, the fodder cart piled high with barseem would arrive with the animal's breakfasts. I learned that all manner of life went on in the roof-top farmyards, where chickens, geese and goats and a few sheep were penned and where women did their daily washing and prepared their vegetables, while children played games dangerously close to the edge. Above these rooftops in the evenings the pigeons were released from their numerous lofts and wheeled in their flocks performing their aerial ballets to the signals of their owner's flags. The row of shops was punctuated by narrow openings, and from the dark mouth of one of these each morning there would be a sudden spewing of scores of animals: goats and sheep and a man or youth leading donkeys, with two or three dogs following. The rush would slow a bit as they came to the rubbish dump near the edge of the railway line, with the goats foraging for goodies among the household waste. They would pick up speed again as they continued north out to the day's 'grazing.' This rubbish dump was set alight from time to time and when the smoke got too bad it would be dowsed with an excessive amount of water, which ended up as channels among the uneven piles of black ash and cinders. There were other watery places, natural ones with reeds growing in them, among all the debris to our right when we first arrived. These were home to hundreds of frogs that chirruped raucously all night. Mosquitoes plagued us from this source and nets were a must. In order to enjoy our patio in the evening I had to sit in a tent of net curtains or else get bitten to death. Close by the railway line I saw a great placid gamoosa (cow) tethered by a doorway. It was milked there and the milk taken around in a tin can to be sold by an arthritic old lady. This animal and another were minded by a brother and sister, who led them around and used them as sofas. The cows would lie down and the children would sit in the hollows of their sides as the animals chewed the cud contently. When a room for newlyweds was needed, they just built one on the roof, until many of the two-storey dwellings became three or four. As the wedding day neared, we would witness the procession - with much zaghrotting (ululating) - of the goods and chattels on a cart. On the big day, the houses were decorated with lights and the loud music went on all night. The ditches and the debris have now given way to made-up roads of heavy traffic and a long garden abounding with trees. On the ground "never to be built upon stands a fine new library blocking our view of life by the line. And over the top of this, all I can see a mass of tower blocks hiding the Pyramids from view.
