Egypt: Day Five, Part One

Citadel of Saladdin

 There’s been entirely too much eating going on, so I skip breakfast and just eat the tangerine from last night plus the three complimentary cookies they leave when they turn down my bed in the evening.  Such service!  I also have what’s left of my pistachios, just in case, because lunch today will be late.

Mosque of Muhammad Ali

       We’re venturing into Cairo.  It’s a bustling, sprawling city of 8 million people, to which must be added 8 million for Giza just across the Nile and an additional 6 million from another suburb whose name I didn’t catch (something like Hababea).  Egypt itself is very concentrated as a whole, with its population of 92 million crammed into a mere 5% of its territory.  The rest is desert.
       Ahmed is amazed at the lack of traffic, especially on a Wednesday.  His commute in the morning and evening can take a full hour or even more.  But this morning we speed all the way to the Citadel of Saladdin (or actually Salah el Din) in which stands the Mosque of Muhammad Ali (no, not the boxer).  We arrive so early that the hawkers aren’t even out yet plying their trade in souvenirs.  (An Ahmed Trick:  getting off the bus, the price of something may be one-for-$5, but by the time you’ve run the gauntlet back to the bus later, that same souvenir will be two-for-$1.  And it works.  Every time.)

Muhammad Ali's tomb

       The imposing alabaster tomb in the courtyard is that of Muhammad Ali Pasha, an Ottoman ruler from the start of the 19th century.  Although Albanian by birth, he is highly respected and seen as the founder of modern Egypt because of the dramatic military, economic and cultural reforms he implemented.
       High above the tomb is a clock that was given to Egypt by French king Louis-Philippe in 1845, in return for an obelisk from the Temple of Luxor, gifted to France by the self-same Muhammad Ali and carted off to stand to this very day in the Place de la Concorde in Paris.  Ahmed looks at me as he points out that the brass clock doesn’t work, and never has worked properly.  Not a great trade.  (I find out that the other obelisk was also given to France, but it was so hard to move the first one that France never came back for the second.  In fact, it was only under President Mitterrand in the 1980's that the French gave ownership of that second obelisk back to the Egyptian people.)

       Like the pyramids, the Ottoman-style mosque and minarets are made out of limestone, but the mosque’s interior walls are covered with alabaster tiles up to a height of almost 40 feet.  Above that rise a huge central dome and four smaller domes around it.  The light plays through the high windows, seemingly pointing out architectural details, of which there are many.
       This is my first time in a mosque, except for eating couscous at the Paris mosque.  It’s very majestic, with that high dome and the light streaming in.  The floor is carpeted totally, with a repetitive design pointing east toward Mecca so the faithful know which way to face.
       As Ahmed explains certain facets of Islam, and takes questions, I start to feel the presence of my grandson Ibrahim, who miscarried at seven months while I was an ocean away.  I’m overwhelmed with both grief and a feeling he’s near.  I say a little prayer for his soul, and then take Ahmed aside to slip him some money to pass on to a needy family, alms to the poor being one of the Five Pillars of Islam.  (Later, to comfort me, Ahmed tells me that in Islam children who are never born go directly to Heaven and do not need our prayers, but still...)

Cairo as seen from the Citadel