picturesque evenings of our lives.
Mahomet Ali, always mindful of our welfare, spoke to the major of the Egyptian troops and got permission from him for us to go and stand on the pavement in the best possible position to see the governor emerge. It was like a scene from The Talisman 19 to see the long rows of white Arab horses with their superb riders and their orange and red helmets flying in the breeze. Then came the military band playing Colonel Bogey with great zest, followed by the infantry smartly turned out in khaki, with leather poches around their waists on which were the moon and stars of Egypt and, of course, the usual fez. The lieutenant colonel of the Cairo city police came over to us and gave Mona permission to take photos. We chatted to him and asked him numerous questions and were delighted when he told us that we could go with him to the Mohammedan Park to watch the ceremony which was about to take place there. We were given right of way through the gates and conducted to a sort of enclosure outside the law courts. The roof was open to the heaven but the walls were hung with tapestries of brilliant colours and intricate design and the floor was covered with huge Persian rugs on which there were rows and rows of chairs, some of them very ornate. While we sat there drinking out of tiny cups, delicious spiced tea, we were introduced to various notable people who wandered in and out, mostly sheiks and army officers.
Then we went outside again to watch the scene with eager eyes and scarcely believing our good fortune. The band played under the awning, the soldiers ‘at ease’ in front of us, groups of smartly clad officers in white and scarlet and gold chatted under the palms, flowers falling from the jacaranda tree almost at our feet, people crowding onto the flat roofed houses opposite, soft-footed servants running about putting lights up for tonight under the trees, coffee thick and sweet (Turkish), sweets, cigarettes coming around in swift procession. In between we were being presented to various officials, while press photographers took several group photographs and, it appeared, mostly of us. The patrician features of the sheiks and of the high priests as they arrived for the ceremony gave the impression that the scene was part of the Arabian Nights’ entertainment and not 1940, and we were part of it all.
Bimbashi, the lieutenant colonel, was so sweet, answering all our questions in extremely good English and forgiving our extreme ignorance. He has already agreed to send the photographs to the hotel tomorrow and he asked our permission to include it in the Mohammedan magazine, with the names. He said he would send us a dozen copies of this. The important assemblage disappeared into the mosque to await the arrival of the news – by Marconi – as to where the crescent moon had been sighted, for unless it is actually seen in one country or another where Moslems are watching for it, Ramadan does not take place. The messenger arrived presently to say it had been seen at the observatory in Helwan outside Cairo so everything was alright. We went then with Bambashi up to the Citadel to await the firing of the 21 guns, announcing that Ramadan had officially begun, and to see the minarets light up, one after another all over Cairo and indeed all over Egypt, for it appears that they all wait for the Citadel to light first before following suit. We were the only ones there, it being a fortress closed to the public after sunset, and it was a thrilling sight to be high above the city and to see Cairo at our feet, springing to life out of the darkness.
Into the car again, then on to an Egyptian restaurant where Bimbashi insisted on taking us to have a real Egyptian dinner. The pièce de la resistance was a grilled pigeon, killed and cooked whilst we waited, so we learned later, a gruesome thought, although the birds tasted delicious and we ate them, comme il faut , with our fingers. Bimbashi arranged that we
Mahomet Ali, always mindful of our welfare, spoke to the major of the Egyptian troops and got permission from him for us to go and stand on the pavement in the best possible position to see the governor emerge. It was like a scene from The Talisman 19 to see the long rows of white Arab horses with their superb riders and their orange and red helmets flying in the breeze. Then came the military band playing Colonel Bogey with great zest, followed by the infantry smartly turned out in khaki, with leather poches around their waists on which were the moon and stars of Egypt and, of course, the usual fez. The lieutenant colonel of the Cairo city police came over to us and gave Mona permission to take photos. We chatted to him and asked him numerous questions and were delighted when he told us that we could go with him to the Mohammedan Park to watch the ceremony which was about to take place there. We were given right of way through the gates and conducted to a sort of enclosure outside the law courts. The roof was open to the heaven but the walls were hung with tapestries of brilliant colours and intricate design and the floor was covered with huge Persian rugs on which there were rows and rows of chairs, some of them very ornate. While we sat there drinking out of tiny cups, delicious spiced tea, we were introduced to various notable people who wandered in and out, mostly sheiks and army officers.
Then we went outside again to watch the scene with eager eyes and scarcely believing our good fortune. The band played under the awning, the soldiers ‘at ease’ in front of us, groups of smartly clad officers in white and scarlet and gold chatted under the palms, flowers falling from the jacaranda tree almost at our feet, people crowding onto the flat roofed houses opposite, soft-footed servants running about putting lights up for tonight under the trees, coffee thick and sweet (Turkish), sweets, cigarettes coming around in swift procession. In between we were being presented to various officials, while press photographers took several group photographs and, it appeared, mostly of us. The patrician features of the sheiks and of the high priests as they arrived for the ceremony gave the impression that the scene was part of the Arabian Nights’ entertainment and not 1940, and we were part of it all.
Bimbashi, the lieutenant colonel, was so sweet, answering all our questions in extremely good English and forgiving our extreme ignorance. He has already agreed to send the photographs to the hotel tomorrow and he asked our permission to include it in the Mohammedan magazine, with the names. He said he would send us a dozen copies of this. The important assemblage disappeared into the mosque to await the arrival of the news – by Marconi – as to where the crescent moon had been sighted, for unless it is actually seen in one country or another where Moslems are watching for it, Ramadan does not take place. The messenger arrived presently to say it had been seen at the observatory in Helwan outside Cairo so everything was alright. We went then with Bambashi up to the Citadel to await the firing of the 21 guns, announcing that Ramadan had officially begun, and to see the minarets light up, one after another all over Cairo and indeed all over Egypt, for it appears that they all wait for the Citadel to light first before following suit. We were the only ones there, it being a fortress closed to the public after sunset, and it was a thrilling sight to be high above the city and to see Cairo at our feet, springing to life out of the darkness.
Into the car again, then on to an Egyptian restaurant where Bimbashi insisted on taking us to have a real Egyptian dinner. The pièce de la resistance was a grilled pigeon, killed and cooked whilst we waited, so we learned later, a gruesome thought, although the birds tasted delicious and we ate them, comme il faut , with our fingers. Bimbashi arranged that we
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