cairo.quando il Nilo racconta...
If the Nile could speak, it would tell of a mythical and astonishing city, the hub of Islamic civilization and not only that. CAIRO is the most populous city in Africa, the thirteenth in the world.. a world apart. Its roots are intertwined in the caves of a distant and inaccessible memory, which is why to us, incredulous laymen, the pharaonic civilization fascinates us but at the same time leaves us stunned. Incomprehensible in their magnificence are the pyramids, stone monsters with unusual shapes, glorious funerary monuments to rulers whose power was as boundless as the desert that surrounded them. Khafre, Khufu, Menkaure.. three pyramids that resemble science-fiction constructions, extraterrestrial in their unpredictable architecture. And then the Sphinx, a humanoid creature that seems to watch over something or someone, who knows what mystery.
The pharaonic civilization is an endless succession of dynasties and rulers, each has left on these lands unmistakable signs of absolute power. If the Nile could speak, it would explain how in a small corner, south of the city, Coptic CAIRO hides timidly. A sliver of Christianity in the flow of Islamic time, a little stone worn but proud. Coptic CAIRO is a quiet and silent place: time seems frozen in the days of bloody persecutions, of makeshift hiding places and impossible faith. The Orthodox Christians, persecuted by the various caliphs, hid here, in this corner symbolized by the Hanging Church, an ancient and small cathedral "hanging" over an old Roman colonnade, an intimate niche of preserved faith.
Beside it are the small communities of Saint George and Saint Sergius, small churches desecrated but sacred, the latter being the site of the sacristy where, it is said, the Holy Family stayed for a time. If the Nile could speak, it would tell of cruel and wicked sultans, of mass massacres, unspeakable tortures, endless harassment. Unmistakable signs of this incorruptible sovereignty are the majestic mosques of CAIRO, whose minarets seem to warn the visitor that they are standing before the cradle of Islamic civilization, the place where the Koran was studied, spread, interpreted and made into words. The absolute epicenter is the Al-Azhar mosque, a building of impressive architectural beauty, here where students from all over the Islamic world still come today to learn, to listen, to write and study. A university as ancient as CAIRO, a center of centuries-old and fascinating faith.
Here we are in Islamic CAIRO, lapped by the megalomaniac Egyptian bazaar, with its scents, colors, medieval stone arches, the noise of its commerce, the shouts of the sellers, the curses of the buyers. A whirlwind that has something authentic and undiscoverable in its ancient atmosphere. Drinking a tea, sitting and admiring this coming and going of people, cows, cats, fabrics, dishes, spices, gold, silver, counterfeit souvenirs, inflated prices.. what a wonder! If the Nile could speak, it would tell of Sultan Al-Hakim, one of the cruelest of all, a bloodthirsty madman belonging to the Mamluk dynasty. It would explain to us how he would roam the alleys of the bazaar arm in arm with an enormous black man and how he enjoyed sodomizing his victims in public...
It would tell of how Mohammed Ali, to whom the most majestic of the city's mosques is dedicated, had slaughtered 50 Mamluks after inviting them to his feast, after the dancing, the orgies, the food offered, ruthless hospitality. But the Nile would certainly linger on the infinite gentleness of this combative and deceitful people, yet kind and harmonious. The smiles and ancestral beauty of its veiled women, hidden beneath long shadors that let a dark and alluring charm show through. Winking eyes, cherry lips, locks that reveal caprice, rudeness, subtle and hidden restlessness. In the end the Nile might also linger a moment on its grandeur, exalting itself in its immense massacres, blushing for its immense goodness, how many harvests saved, how much food offered but also how many disasters, how many lives swept away, along the road that leads to the immense sand necropolises.
The Nile is the true master of this millenary place, where the weight of history is so suffocating that, faced with the golden mask of Tutankhamun in the magnificent Egyptian Museum, one can be struck by a strange syndrome, a sense of latent labyrinthitis, too much magic all in a single moment.
Finally, perhaps the Nile would spend a few words also on yours truly, who arrived in this Egypt on tiptoe and without too many pretensions, without making noise, but who was soon left ecstatic, with many memories and many dreams. It would already be a nice gift to bring with me...
Have a good trip Andrea
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