Edelstam Anne - Three ladies in Cairo

Three ladies in Cairo

Anne Edelstam

Three Ladies in Cairo is a fascinating book. It allows us (via the original and very personal stories of three generations of women in a Swedish family), to experience the evolution and transformation of Egypt during three vital decades. The book unfolds through three intertwined destinies: the grandmother (whose husband sat as a judge at the Mixed Courts), the daughter (who was married to the Swedish Ambassador to Egypt) and, finally, the granddaughter (who was educated in Cairo and who is the author of this work).

Through these three destinies are reflected three important stages in contemporary Egyptian history; three contrasting snapshots of this country in movement are shown. From the grandmother we see colonial Egypt (a people still searching for their independence), where Cairo comes across as an elegant town, refined and cosmopolitan, and where, despite its two millions inhabitants, it remained a charming place to live. From the mother, who grew up amongst Cairos magnificent European mansions, we get an inside view of the political revolution that transformed Egypt from a monarchy into an authoritarian Socialist State. Finally, the author describes the demographic revolution that gradually turned Cairo into todays sprawling mega-pole of 20 millions, with its horrific pollution, noise and misery.

The originality of this book lies not only in its fragmented vision of Egyptian history, but also in the stark contrast between the harsh reality of today (that the author discovers after years of absence), and the magical memories of the past transmitted to her from the previous generations of her family. She gives us a documented and moving testimony that allows us to share the passion these three generations of Swedish women have held for a fascinating country and its 6000 years of civilisation.

Boutros Boutros Ghali Former UN Secretary General.

I dedicate this book to my family and to all my Egyptian friends who have been with me on this fabulous journey.

Chapter 1

The Swedish goldrush

It was hot and windy that unforgettable day of 25 June 1888, just a few days after the Swedish midsummer celebration. Ragnhild, her blonde hair tied up neatly in two thin braids just above her ears, like two snakes curled up in tight balls, was as busy as ever. Sweat trickled between her large, heavy breasts.

I cant wait to stop breastfeeding , she sighed to herself. As she pulled up her sleeves, the unmistakable smell of burning wood struck her nostrils.

The house is on fire! yelled her husband, Alfred, from the distance. Quick get the kids and run!

She ran to the window and was met by a horrifying scene: enormous bright orange and yellow flames were surging from everywhere, ash hurling around the sky like a flock of crows.

I cant see anything! My eyes hurt! she shouted.

The smoke soon filled the small wooden house. She grabbed the pram with the screaming baby Jonas, took the stunned Alfhild, the eldest, by the hand, and rushed out.

My new dress!

Leaving the children outside, she rushed in again. Ignoring her husbands warning about the staircase being about to cave in, she lifted her long cotton skirts and ran upstairs.

Where is it?

She glanced frantically around her bedroom, saw the flowery silk fabric, grabbed it, and was about to look for the jewellery box when a roar made her stomach lurch.

The roof is collapsing!

She heard her husbands warning and leaped down just in time to see the entire house go up in flames.

The young couple, both covered in dirty grey ash, with their hair glued to their foreheads, stood flabbergasted in front of what had been their home and livelihood. They looked over to the west and their eyes met only desolation and distress. People, torn with pain, were rushing around trying to save what was forever lost. By evening, the entire southern part of town, built mostly of wooden houses, was burning or in ruin, leaving more than ten thousand people nearly the towns entire population without shelter. Miraculously only four people died.

Until that doomsday, Ragnhild and Alfreds lives had been filled with hopes for a bright future in this Northern Klondike. A few years previously, Alfred had heard about the coastal towns booming prosperity. Others who had immigrated to Sundsvall before him said that commerce there was picking up, between the flourishing shipyards, the steel and wood resources, and the salt importation. Like many other brave young men before him, he dreamt of seeking his fortune.

Im moving to Sundsvall! he declared to his astonished parents. Theres no money to be made here.

But whatll you do there? asked his parents, worried.

Dont worry. There seem to be plenty of possibilities. And anyway, its much closer than America, where everyone else seems to be going.

His father sighed, less blithely optimistic than his son, but gave his blessing.

Ragnhild, meanwhile, was growing up in Sundsvall. Shed become accustomed to seeing ever more ships navigating up and down the coast and sawmills popping up around the town. The distinct smell of wood shavings, sweet and peppery, never left her nostrils and the sound of sawing had become so familiar that she only reacted when it stopped which usually meant it was dinner time. Since the middle of the nineteenth century, shipyards had been built in the district of Sundsvall, including the countrys first naval shipbuilders. When England at last abolished their duty on importing cut wood, Ragnhilds parents were overjoyed.

Finally, we can make some money here! declared her father.

He was so enthusiastic he even dragged her off to visit a steam saw, and painstakingly tried to explain the mechanism to her. Before she knew it, there were steam saws everywhere.

Were surrounded by pine tree forests, so we might as well use them, her father had reasoned. Im going to become a rich man, youll see!

As long as they dont cut down all the trees where I go and pick my mushrooms, Ragnhilds mother said. You know I have my secret spot, where the spring morels grow, under the old pine trees on the hill, behind the city hall.

Ragnhild loved those walks at the end of spring and in the autumn, when her mother took her mushroom-picking in the forest. Her mother dried their hoard each year and they cooked them throughout the summer. Her favourite was a mushroom sauce with cream and flour, served with deer fillet and lingonberry jam.

Remember when we saw the elk with its twins? They were so lovely! Ragnhild said. They shouldnt cut down all the trees.

You cant have it all! her father retorted, frowning.

Around that time, Alfred arrived in the booming region, rapidly becoming well known for its expansion and its need for labour. Bewildered by his new environment, tired from the long journey, and a little anxious about his future, he sat down at the harbour next to another newly arrived youngster.

So, where are you from? he asked the young man, his baggy and worn trousers held up with braces.