, the self-effacing prince of Arab-Islamic architectural treasures talks cultural memory, traditional lifestyles in mediaeval urban settings, and the pitfalls of preservation, conservation and restoration to Gamal Nkrumah sighs. "The Boharas? Now they are not funny. They are dead serious," he mock drawls. Baby-faced, grey-haired, wide-eyed and smiling with mischievous pleasure, he acknowledges that city dwellers, particularly those resident in historic districts, have a harder time befriending their neighbours since lives are busier and closer quarters often lead to conflicts of interests. Minutes earlier as I go up to the first floor to meet Sedky, I reflect that if anyone can bridge the large divide on restoration between developing countries like Egypt and the developed world, it is articulate architects like . He is keen on transferring the state-of-the-art conservationist technologies from Western countries to the developing world, but he does not see the process as a piecemeal one. For years Sedky has been well known among the cognoscenti, and deservedly so. "Of course they have a hidden agenda. Of course, they are wrong, and deliberately so," he added, quick as a flash. "But my point is," he hastens to add is: Who is really responsible for the shortcomings with regards to sustainability and social needs of the residents of historic Islamic Cairo in the conservation and restoration projects of the area over the past few decades?" Sedky strongly presumes that those active in the field of conservation in historic Cairo must not prioritise visual integrity as they see fit and proper, but rather focus on social and economic dimensions to create a strong basis for sustainable development. In other words, conservation and restoration should aim to restore monuments and make them functional and meaningful to contemporary users. The air of bathos was palpable. "Restoration should not be for showcasing exotica for the purpose of attracting tourists. This onus on tourism and superficial beautification has been the overriding concern of previous actors, with the government blessing, involved in the area of conservation and restoration," Sedky laments, alight with irrepressible ire. He is writing a minor chapter in this country's remarkable architectural history. No previous Egyptian academic has dared to attack their purpose in restoring Fatimid Cairo, and others', political agendas and graft so frontally. "I am not particularly interested in polished walls with a glossy appearance that appeals to tourists and town-planners. Historic Cairo must not be reduced to tourist mine to be ruthlessly exploited by overzealous public officials. Safeguarding the economic interests of the artisans' crafts and sustaining and developing their economic interests in a key commercial area is of equal importance. To pursue upgrading while complementing the social systems, values and lifestyles in historic Cairo is of vital importance." Sedky's tirade is noteworthy precisely because he is an Egyptian architect. Had the harangue emanated from a Western expert in the field, few would have been startled. "How in God's name do we make our message heard?" Historic Cairo, after all is one of the man-made wonders of the world. Yet, the people residing in this treasure trove of mediaeval architectural masterpieces live in a state of abject poverty, in squalour and utter degradation. They deserve better. "Look at the lethal cracks left on the load- bearing walls of houses in Qasr Al-Shama area as a result of insensitive watering work in the nearby historical church quarter, which altered the soil characteristics of the whole area, causing resettlement beneath the walls," Sedky pointed to a photograph he himself had taken and that was published in his Living With Heritage In Cairo. "The Ministry of Culture as a consultancy and the Arab Contractors, who executed the project, focused only on colouring and beautifying the façades, overlooking the structural integrity of the dilapidated houses." Sedky is highly critical of official preoccupation with superficial urban beautification, limited to plastering and painting the frontage overlooking the main streets in Qasr Al-Shama. He specifically identified the photograph of a house belonging to an aged Coptic widow whom he said he knew personally. Her dilapidated building with dangerous wall cracks "creating a kitsch atmosphere for visiting tourists while the inhabitants live in constant danger and an absolute lack of safety." Against this backdrop, the spectacle of Sedky giving policy advice to the powers that be is surprising enough. He is, after all, currently an urban management consultant for major urban development organisations in the Middle East, based in Jedda, Saudi Arabia. He made pertinent comments about a serious and sensitive question. "Historic areas of Cairo are often mistaken for slums or squats, accentuated by the dilapidated physical environment and social deviance. However, in spite of their rundown conditions, some historic areas have answered the growing need for housing of low-income indigenous Cairenes and rural migrants," Sedky observes. This is where Sedky introduces the concept of post-occupancy evaluation. Why are some projects more successful than others? "The historic districts came to be limited to certain classes, especially low-income working classes with little education and insecure jobs. And, lower- middle class, white-collar workers with a higher level of education but with incomes no higher than those of the working class. One can guess the social and educational level of a Cairene from where he or she lives." "The upper classes do not live in or near the historic core," Sedky notes. Communities that still dwell in the historic districts are more homogenous and social activities take precedence over individual ones. The residents of upper class neighbourhoods are not as close as those of historic districts. Closeness and cultural affinity heightens the sense of belonging and safety among the dwellers of historic districts. Closer quarters often lead to conflict. Residents of historic districts are not often particularly respectful of each other's privacy. Yet, they are obliged to interact and the most critical adaptive measure to their survival and social and economic well-being is, according to Sedky, sustainable development. The gimmicks and stunts of the professional conservationists, politicians and donor agencies do not necessarily serve the interests of the poorest of the poor. Sedky identifies the quandary of the professionals as being "trapped in the restoration realm". He applauds, however, the holistic approach that furnishes for sustainability having the local people's interest at heart. "We are faced with a composite problem -- political, social, economical and finally heritage and cultural related and technical issues. For the first time there is a call for professionals to remedy the situation for both people and old walls simultaneously." One problem that Sedky identifies as a characteristic of Arab-Islamic cities is that what he terms the "cultural rupture" is severe. Everything authentic is looked down upon. This is especially so among the policymakers and political and economic elite. The economic and social elite is convinced that historical cities are substandard and would not be seen dead anywhere near such designated historical sites, except perhaps to take overseas visitors for sightseeing tours of the Orientalist haunts. "If an environment is to be considered substandard, whose standards are applicable," Sedky asks. "We destroy our heritage when we sanctify it and we shall never be able to save all the examples that are in need of conservation and restoration. Nor can we accept to freeze the historic urbanism into museums and cultural centres. There must be a wise priority system and a clear programme to define what and how to save our heritage." His understanding of the plight of the poor amply augments his instinct for gimmicky stratagems to save historic Cairo. Local residents, he insists, must remain at the core of any serious attempt to conserve the rich heritage of the country. "Historic areas were the most suitable places to receive newcomers, especially in the period 1950- 80 when informal settlements did not exist or were in their infancy," Sedky explains, noting the influx of rural peasantry to the urban conurbation containing historic districts. "Nevertheless, since the 1980s, the historic areas have become more expensive. An apartment in the Al-Ghuri area of Fatimid Cairo can be four times the price of a similar one in Basatin, a popular informal quarter. So Al-Ghuri is the destination of the new generation of local families and newlyweds moving upward from low and lower-middle social classes." Sedky also notes that in certain cases gentrification is inevitable if a historic area is to be saved from terminal decline. So what are the defining characteristics of historic Cairo? "In historic areas we find a clear urban character, with active small- scale retailing and industrial activities. Environmental blight is more striking in the historic areas, where obsolescence generally outstrips replacement," Sedky remarks. "Thus the main difference between historic areas and informal settlements is the historic dimension," he concludes. "Historic areas, by being more segregated, can preserve their more traditional pre-colonial living systems, albeit with side effects such as physical deterioration and cultural conflicts between new and old lifestyles." Indeed, he would probably argue that a little embarrassment is worth it to highlight the threat to his beloved historic Cairo. "In Egypt, the planners or professional and the official institutions coalesce into almost the same group the Nation or N group -- they share a specific national agenda and strategy which they want to achieve with a minimum of negotiation or adjustment." Sedky here hits the nail on the head. "The Ministry of Housing, for example, is a very influential actor in the area of conservation in Cairo." Yet he notes that N group shakers and movers do not always empower community-based institutions to have a say in the conservation sphere. Sedky stresses that the interests of the U group, the local users of an area, the residents of historic districts, should take precedence over the N group. "Historic districts are widely regarded as the last refuge of traditional culture and as surviving showcases of traditional values systems and social relationships." In other words, these areas are not merely exotica for tourists to sample the local flavour, but the very depositories of the people's cultural heritage -- Living Heritage. "Although the U group are the legal heirs to and practitioners of traditional culture, they have inherited only a few transmitted values, and they have lost the technical knowledge and skills required to produce the appropriate architectural interventions while pursuing their lives in a way they can afford and accept." Sedky pleads for a more nuanced assessment of the restoration projects and the predicament faced by the authorities and donors in handling the problems of the historic Arab-Islamic city in general, and Cairo in particular. "What is significant for a specific area is determined by the diverse groups who make claims on it." Again he launches a tirade on the Boharas, not because they are inherently evil, but rather as an example of an over-zealous group of outsiders with an explicit vision of what the historic Cairo, in this case Fatimid, should look like, without much consideration for the local residents. "I can prove that the Boharas deface monumental buildings, historic buildings that have withstood the test of time. The Cresswell Collection is proof of the old typical post-Fatimid styles. Whereas the stylistic restoration of the Bohara are completely different from the originals. Okay, they are Shia and they love the Fatimid period, fair enough. But they have no right to deface, erase, part of the Egyptian history as embodied in post-Fatimid architectural treasures. Just look at what they have done in Wekalat Al-Balah, is that unbiased restoration? Compare the restoration programmes of the Bohara with the superb and unbiased restoration work of the Agha Khan Foundation, who incidentally are also Shia -- but they are more respectful of the country's historical treasures and architectural styles. There is an emotional element, too, to the outburst. The Boharas, today centred in the western Indian state of Gujarat, trace their spiritual ancestry to the Ismaili Shias during the reign of the Fatimid Caliph Imam Al-Muntasir. As Shia Muslims, in a predominantly Sunni Muslim nation such as Egypt, they ought to have taken local Sunni sensibilities into account. Yes, they did spend a great deal of time and effort, not to mention funding, on restoring mosques and ruins of the Fatimid period that long languished in a state of dilapidation to something approximating their original grandeur and splendour. But such desires will test even the bounds of Indian Muslim philosophy and propriety. However, he did not issue a declaration of war on the Boharas or anyone else. But he would be speaking on this prickly topic again for some time. The composite image of Al-Darb Al-Asfar and the Wikala of Qatbey is a historic area close to the heart of Sedky. He studied the local people's way of life and tried to understand how they interacted with their past. "That made me very observant, I believe. You were in a different kind of world, and you had to notice everything. I just studied people around, ordinary contemporary Cairenes, to see what they did with the world's largest mediaeval urban system -- Cairo's." His unerring instincts have served him well. This passion for accuracy is an overriding concern of his. Yet, even though he was careful to acknowledge the debt he owed the American University in Cairo Press in promoting his work, I couldn't help feeling somewhat disappointed that Sedky's Living With Heritage In Cairo was printed in small format. The original photos, for instance, taken by the author himself were originally in colour. Nevertheless, they were printed in black and white, when colour could have highlighted some of the pertinent issues and concerns raised by the author. The back photograph of the Muezz Street, with the southern minaret of Al-Hakim is one that has been taken from many different angles so often, that it would not particularly attract a reader knowledgeable of, or keenly interested in the subject. Be that as it may, there are more salient questions that Sedky raises and that warrant public attention. "Furthermore, the financial feasibility of the planning decisions made by the Ministry of Housing is questionable," Sedky avers. "The political model in Egypt and other Arab-Islamic countries is state-centred, with the government both defining and solving social problems," he maintains. "This is what I mean by furnishing for sustainability and making the success of a conservationist project a matter of good planning and conservation management," Sedky extrapolates. His vitriolic attack on the restoration activities of the Bohara community in Egypt resumes with gusto. "Most Egyptians, professionals, academics and laymen cannot go anywhere near these places -- they are strictly forbidden. But, the Boharas can go. They glorify, accentuate the Fatimid styles and deface the Sunni Mamluk appurtenances and treasures. This is wrong," he exclaims. "Stylistic restoration is a big mistake. Selective restoration, too, is wrong." Again, he is careful to stress that the criticisms he charges against the Boharas could well apply to other W or World, international, Interest Groups, as Sedky terms them. His point is that the W group often work in tandem with the N group and either deliberately or inadvertently undermine the vital interests of the U underdog group. "Gaining more and more official legitimacy through the adoption of projects under the auspices of important figures," he explains, the W groups are often an integral part of the problem, rather than a means towards the realisation of solutions. "Metaphorically, a fall into disuse marks the death of a place. If it no longer serves its old purpose, it either falls into disuse or attracts undesirable activities. For instance, the old public bath was an important institution of the original Arab-Islamic city, but now that bathhouses are no longer integral to the Cairene lifestyle, many have become dangerous and accommodate socially marginalised practices," Sedky notes. "The bathhouses or hammams are today the haunts of the homosexuals. In that sense hammams don't sanctify heritage." So where have all the problems arisen from? "Functioning architecture" and "superficial beautification" are two dramatically contrasting concepts that keep cropping up throughout the interview. The son of lawyers, both parents were legal practitioners and so is his sister, he cannot help playing the advocate. We end on yet another controversial note: Al-Azhar Tunnel. "If the main aim was to safeguard historic Cairo, the tunnel has certainly not served that purpose. Priority should have been given to overcoming another far more lethal problem: the groundwater table that endangers most of the historic edifices in Cairo."
