They say that once you drink the water of the Nile, you cannot quench your thirst anywhere else; you will be drawn back to Egypt. My friends assured me it was the years that I spent living in Cairo, daily drinking the water of the Nile, that kept me returning to Egypt every few months in between international contracts. But for me, as well as many others, the pull of the Nile was even more potent. We were not content with living near it. We wanted to live on it.
I drank my first taste of life on Cairo’s awamaat back in the mid 90′s when a friend of mine moved into one. I went to visit her one spring afternoon, eager to see her new floating apartment. I caught a taxi from my flat in the posh neighborhood of Zamalek to the working class district of Imbaba where the houseboats are moored. The main road along the Nile at Kit Kat square in Imbaba is one of the busiest in Cairo. It is teeming with cars and minibuses, street hawkers and their customers. The clamor, dust, and general chaos assaults every sense yet is oddly exhilarating. A wall of shrubbery and trees lines the sidewalk on one side of the main street, and conceals the view of the Nile from the road. Doorways marked with Arabic numbers are the only pathways through the hedge. I found my friend’s address, walked through the gate, and crossed the threshold into the hush of another world. Where there was just concrete and scorching asphalt, there was now moist, cool earth and rich gardens, where there was the crush of street vendors and bicycles, there was now a ribbon of fresh air and open space. As I walked over the footbridge to the creaking, swaying abode, I could hear the soft rustle of the leaves in the trees and the lapping of the water’s edge, and knew that someday I had to call this home. In a few years, I got my chance.
Sipping Coffee
I am not the first to be seduced by the other worldly life on the world’s longest river. From Cleopatra to Napoleon’s soldiers and the aristocracy under King Farouk, the houseboats have been the site of decadence and intrigue. Intellectuals, artists and Egypt’s ruling class have escaped to the houseboats for a moment of freedom, away from the prying eyes of the conservative communities of Cairo. The relative seclusion of the boats has also been the backdrop for some shady adventures. It is said that in WWII a pair of German spies used them as a base. Allegedly, they were aided by Hekmat Fahmy, an Oriental dancer at the infamous Kit Kat Cabaret for which the adjacent square is named. It is said, she seduced British officers, extracted secrets from them, and fed information to her neighbors. Who knows how much of the rumors surrounding the houseboats are fact and how much fantasy; but the bohemian nature of the houseboat community is firmly fixed in the Cairenes’ imagination.
The Kit Kat is long gone from the square. In it’s place is a large mosque which dominates the landscape. Exposed to the scorching desert sun year after year, the boats have deteriorated somewhat. The wood is cracking, the paint peeling, but the mystique of the houseboats remain. Sitting on my balcony, just passing the day, it was easy to see why. Early morning before the city awakened, the fishermen began their day. Paddling a large wooden rowboat, they navigated around the islands of foliage that had broken away from the water’s edge and floated lazily towards the Mediterranean. I sipped my coffee. Smiles and nods were exchanged. Then they returned to their work leaving me with the stillness and my thoughts. At night touring boats and floating nightclubs motored past, blaring the latest pop tunes, temporarily transforming the quiet calm of the river into a boisterous celebration. I often waved from my balcony and raised my drink as if in a toast, the buoyant party would respond with shouts of approval and laughter. The boats were jammed with tourists taking in the beauty of the city lights, young lovers indulging in romance, and older government workers enjoying a 2 hour respite from their public responsibilities. We had a moment of mutual recognition and understanding, then they slowly faded out into the darkness of the night. It is as though the aura of the Nile cast a spell on anyone who entered its boundaries, for a moment they lost their mundane cares and merged into the timeless decadence of the world’s longest river.
