destruction at the temples where the noses of nearly every one of the ancient Egyptian deities has been lopped off in a mass cleansing of polytheistic worship. Christianity grew greatly during this period, in spite of disputes and offshoots fighting for power and survival like the early Coptic Church, which survives to this day. Presently, Christians make up 10 percent of the population; the many Christmas decorations I saw hanging in windows of businesses and in restaurants attest to this.
The next radical change came in 639 CE, when the Muslim general Amir ibn al-âAs invaded Egypt and ended the Byzantine rule and Islam began to take root. Weathering the Ottoman, French, and British occupations from the early 1500s until the 1952 revolution resulting in the 1953 establishment of Egypt as a republic, the country remained an Islamic nation and an Arab culture. The next three presidentsâGamal Abdel Nasser, Anwar Sadat, and the recently ousted Hosni Mubarakâbrought a roller coaster of ups and downs to the struggling country, and now I was standing at my window listening to the call to worship in a land about to dramatically change yet again.
But, as I dressed that morning in my new Egyptian garb, I wanted to roll back through the centuries and see the vestiges of earlier times, work my way back to the world of the pharaohs and that fateful last day in which Cleopatra was to have died with her handmaidens within the cool recesses of her stone tomb.
Before I set off down the four flights of stairs to the hubbub of the streets below, I carefully concealed my hair in a bright turquoise scarf, wrapping it as properly as I could so that no wisp of hair escaped, no bit of my ears or neck might be observed. I positioned the scarf strategically so the embroidered flowers with their shiny mirror stigmas and tassels flowed down my left shoulder. I snuck a pair of earrings up into the holes in my covered lobes and studied my workmanship. I was pleasantly surprised to find that a tightly worn hijab offers a cheap and immediate facelift, even though my hearing was quite diminished from my ears being sealed off. I found, when I returned to the United States and no longer wore my hijab, that I was a bit sad because I had to style my hair again and there seemed a missing final touch to my outfit.
Down at the entrance to the hotel, I grabbed a cab and instructed the driver to take me to the Citadel, the massive walled fortress begun by magnificent Saladin in 1176 to defend against the Crusaders. This structure with its impressive stone walls and the domed Ottoman-style Muhammad Ali mosque, towers over the city on the high promontory, dominating the skyline of Cairo and reminding all below of Egyptâs long history of invasions and military rule. As the taxi driver maneuvered his way through the traffic-snarled streets of Cairo, it was hard to believe, with all Arabic writing scrawled atop the entrances to businesses, women in black burqas and men in Muslim religious dress, that the people of Egypt once worshipped Anubis the jackal; Horus the hawk; or Hathor, the goddess of love, wearing the horns of a cow. Nor was it easy to imagine Queen Cleopatra swathed in a Grecian gown,entertaining an entourage of Romans in her resplendent palace by the sea.
The taxi pulled in front of the entrance gate to the Citadel. I paid the driver and made my way up the steps. I removed my shoes and entered the Mosque of Muhammad Ali, walking silently across the red-and-gold carpet, staring up at the rings of chandeliers that lit the Turkish-style interior. It was beautiful. But then I had to smile at the irony of how this place of worship was built at the location where, seventeen years before its construction began, Ali gave a celebration in his palace with very little spirit of brotherly love. That night he held a banquet for 470 Mamluks, the powerful military caste that controlled the army and much of the politics of Egypt. They were a
The next radical change came in 639 CE, when the Muslim general Amir ibn al-âAs invaded Egypt and ended the Byzantine rule and Islam began to take root. Weathering the Ottoman, French, and British occupations from the early 1500s until the 1952 revolution resulting in the 1953 establishment of Egypt as a republic, the country remained an Islamic nation and an Arab culture. The next three presidentsâGamal Abdel Nasser, Anwar Sadat, and the recently ousted Hosni Mubarakâbrought a roller coaster of ups and downs to the struggling country, and now I was standing at my window listening to the call to worship in a land about to dramatically change yet again.
But, as I dressed that morning in my new Egyptian garb, I wanted to roll back through the centuries and see the vestiges of earlier times, work my way back to the world of the pharaohs and that fateful last day in which Cleopatra was to have died with her handmaidens within the cool recesses of her stone tomb.
Before I set off down the four flights of stairs to the hubbub of the streets below, I carefully concealed my hair in a bright turquoise scarf, wrapping it as properly as I could so that no wisp of hair escaped, no bit of my ears or neck might be observed. I positioned the scarf strategically so the embroidered flowers with their shiny mirror stigmas and tassels flowed down my left shoulder. I snuck a pair of earrings up into the holes in my covered lobes and studied my workmanship. I was pleasantly surprised to find that a tightly worn hijab offers a cheap and immediate facelift, even though my hearing was quite diminished from my ears being sealed off. I found, when I returned to the United States and no longer wore my hijab, that I was a bit sad because I had to style my hair again and there seemed a missing final touch to my outfit.
Down at the entrance to the hotel, I grabbed a cab and instructed the driver to take me to the Citadel, the massive walled fortress begun by magnificent Saladin in 1176 to defend against the Crusaders. This structure with its impressive stone walls and the domed Ottoman-style Muhammad Ali mosque, towers over the city on the high promontory, dominating the skyline of Cairo and reminding all below of Egyptâs long history of invasions and military rule. As the taxi driver maneuvered his way through the traffic-snarled streets of Cairo, it was hard to believe, with all Arabic writing scrawled atop the entrances to businesses, women in black burqas and men in Muslim religious dress, that the people of Egypt once worshipped Anubis the jackal; Horus the hawk; or Hathor, the goddess of love, wearing the horns of a cow. Nor was it easy to imagine Queen Cleopatra swathed in a Grecian gown,entertaining an entourage of Romans in her resplendent palace by the sea.
The taxi pulled in front of the entrance gate to the Citadel. I paid the driver and made my way up the steps. I removed my shoes and entered the Mosque of Muhammad Ali, walking silently across the red-and-gold carpet, staring up at the rings of chandeliers that lit the Turkish-style interior. It was beautiful. But then I had to smile at the irony of how this place of worship was built at the location where, seventeen years before its construction began, Ali gave a celebration in his palace with very little spirit of brotherly love. That night he held a banquet for 470 Mamluks, the powerful military caste that controlled the army and much of the politics of Egypt. They were a
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