COMMUNITIES: ARMENIANS IN EGYPT RECOUNT RICH HISTORY
Egypt Independent
June 27 2012
Alison Tahmizian Meuse Wed, 27/06/2012 – 12:15
At a time when the citizenship of a candidate’s mother can disqualify
him from the presidency, it is nearly impossible to imagine an Armenian
holding the post of Egyptian prime minister.
However, Armenians made many important historical contributions
to Egyptian society. Ottoman-era Khedive Mohamed Ali hired them as
diplomats, commercial agents and technicians. Armenians and other
Ottoman citizens flocked to Egypt for opportunities under the ambitious
new ruler.
“Egypt was like the Gulf is today as far as traveling there to work,”
says Thomas Zakarian, a teacher in Heliopolis’ Nubarian School.
The reign of Mohamed Ali was not a unique chapter of diversity in
Egyptian history. Like the Ottoman period, the Fatimid and Mamluk eras
involved significant contributions of foreign peoples. Armenians were
builders of Bab Zuweila and seamstresses of the Kiswah (the Kaaba’s
covering), court photographers for Mohamed Ali and jewelers to King
Farouk. Today, they are a tight-knit community, integrated into the
fabric of Egypt.
Under Ali’s auspices, Armenians founded colleges of accounting,
engineering and translation during the mid-19th century. Mastery
of Ottoman Turkish and European languages made Armenians suitable
intermediaries to the West and favored by Ali as chief translators.
“Armenians were viewed as outsiders, but not as Europeans,” says
historian Mahmoud Sabit, who is of Armenian ancestry. They had a
knack for diplomacy and warfare; Fatimid and Mamluk armies employed
Armenians as heavy-armored cavalry.
Others were expert stonemasons. Armenian Muslim Badr al-Jamali, one
of seven Armenian Fatimid viziers, commissioned his kin to build Bab
al-Futuh, Bab al-Nasr and Bab Zuweila.
“The world then was not based on ethnicity, which is why outsiders
could have easily integrated in it,” Sabit said.
It ended with the Ottomans
In the second half of the 19th century, the “Armenian Question”
was raised as Armenians in Ottoman Turkey demanded reforms. Sultan
Abdel Hamid II, fearing rising nationalism and European encroachment,
ordered pogroms against the minority.
When Istanbul’s mufti issued a fatwa supporting the massacres, labeling
Armenians as enemies of Islam, a counter-fatwa was issued by Al-Azhar.
Mohamed Refaat al-Imam, a local expert on the community and author
of “The Armenians in Egypt,” notes that this episode caused tension
between Istanbul and Ottoman Cairo.
In 1915, Ottoman authorities began a genocidal campaign against the
Armenians. Those who survived the massacres sought asylum in Syria,
Palestine and Egypt.
What Egypt had that other countries lacked was a pre-established
community able to aid, advocate for and employ the influx of refugees.
Average Armenians donated medicine and clothing to the survivors,
while industrial leaders provided employment – Armenian cigarette
factories alone hired thousands. The destitute newcomers were often
skilled craftsmen: jewelers, cobblers and tailors, who began anew in
the workshops of fellow Armenians.
The Armenian General Benevolent Union, founded in Cairo in 1906 with
Boghos Nubar at its helm, aided Armenians across the region. In
1915, it founded a school for 1,000 children in Port Said refugee
camp, which sheltered more than 4,200 refugees. Nubar and the union
headquarters later moved to Paris, where he advocated for Armenian
statehood at the 1919 Peace Conference. However, the betrayal of the
Allied Powers, the formation of modern Turkey, and the Soviet takeover
of the short-lived Armenian republic dashed lingering hopes for return.
Their exile would be permanent.
A community once composed of elite statesmen and merchants absorbed
thousands of refugees, whose presence made Armenian identity more
salient than ever. In cosmopolitan Alexandria and Cairo, lives were
rebuilt around schools, churches and clubs.
Rival Armenian political parties with divergent views on the newly
formed Soviet Armenia published daily newspapers and fought fiercely
for seats on the community council.
Refugees, who spoke Turkish in their native provinces, attended
Armenian schools. Plays, once performed in Turkish, were now strictly
in Armenian, Imam says. Armenian theater, dance troupes and music
thrived, while individuals such as portrait photographer Van Leo and
caricaturist Saroukhan rose to national prominence.
The overall prosperity of Egypt’s Armenians made them less
susceptible than other diaspora communities to a 1946 campaign
encouraging resettlement in Soviet Armenia. Of the 150,000 from the
Middle East who went, only 4,000 came from Egypt. Saroukhan, who
instructed a friend to send word on life behind the iron curtain,
received a glowing report – but it was written in red, the color
they had agreed would indicate distress. Stalin deported nationalist
Dashnak party members to Siberia on arrival.
As Armenians secured a foothold in the Egyptian economy, they left
their original neighborhoods of Bayn al-Surein and Dahir for upscale
downtown and Heliopolis. The community peaked at 17,188 people in
1917, according to government figures; church data puts their number
at 40,000 in 1947.
To stay or to go
The 1961 nationalization program of President Gamal Abdel Nasser jolted
the community, the majority of which was engaged in the private sector.
The size of the community dwindled in that period, but not all felt
compelled to leave, choosing instead to adapt to the new landscape.
Among them was Joseph Matossian, then the chairman of Egypt’s Chamber
of Tobacco. Nasser greeted Matossian with a hug at a cigarette
exposition in 1961. Nasser, an ardent smoker of illegally smuggled
Kents, said if Matossian could make him a similar cigarette, he would
be their best client.
“Mr. President, your wishes are our orders,” he replied, creating
what is still Egypt’s most-consumed cheap cigarette, The Cleopatra.
“All the people who stayed here succeeded, and succeeded brilliantly –
especially after 1975, when the country opened,” says Hratch Mikaelian,
whose family business, the Reader’s Corner, evolved from a publications
distributor to a framing shop.
“The ones who left still have nostalgia for Egypt,” says Armen
Mazloumian, a physician. “They even have an Association of
Armenian-Egyptians in Canada and celebrate Sham al-Nessim.”
Others point out that those who left never returned, and emigration
slowed but never stopped. Of a 40-person choir from the late 1980s,
pianist Gassia Deuvletian says, “Now more than half are not here.”
Gerald Papazian, an Armenian-Egyptian living in Paris, argues this
nostalgia has nothing to do with modern Egypt.
“It was their Egypt, their clubs, and the way Egypt was at that time,”
Papazian says.
Integrating but not assimilating
The most important tradition Armenians keep is their language,
its biggest guarantor of identity. Many parents urge their children
to marry an Armenian – whether from Egypt, the Levant or Armenia –
but intermarriage with Christian Egyptians is generally accepted.
“The Egyptian community evolved also. There is a very cool, open
Egyptian youth, and they integrate very easily with us, Mikaelian
says. “That’s why the risk of having mixed marriages increases.”
Children of such unions can and do learn Armenian through community
institutions. Sirarpi, a kindergarten teacher, points out that children
who don’t come from Armenian-speaking homes anxiously strive to catch
up with their peers.
With the emergence of independent Armenia and the Internet, many
Egyptian-Armenians find it easier to reconnect with their roots.
Today, half a century after Armenians’ mass exodus from the country,
the community is again taking stock of its place in a changing Egypt.
“Although we will not say it out loud, we are whispering about the
elusive ‘Plan B’ for leaving,” Aline Kazanjian blogs. She says her
decision will not be based on alcohol or dress codes, but opportunities
for her children.
“It’s important for Egyptian-Armenians to stay in Egypt. … It’s
part of our identity,” says Arto Kalishian, one of a handful of young
Armenians involved in political campaigns, whether for liberals or
moderate Islamists.
“To be public and active is tough for Armenians because we are a
small community. It’s up to the individual,” he says.
The community generally avoids politics, an aversion stemming not
only from previous persecution, but also gratefulness to the countries
that welcomed them. Parsegh Kezelian, a jeweler, recalls his father’s
advice: “Never be against the government – any government.” During
parliamentary elections, some Armenians were shocked their peers
didn’t know they were citizens.
Many say the double-edged sword of being foreign keeps the community
intact.
“We are born in Egypt, we have the identity cards, we serve in the
military – nothing remains. But how you feel matters,” says Zaven
Lylozian, editor of an Armenian newspaper. “I am not Ahmed or George –
I am Zaven. The name is the address of your identity. You are not
Egyptian.”
Turkish-born Nubar Pasha, Sabit’s ancestor, after serving five
Egyptian rulers over five decades, spent his final years between
Paris and Cairo, ever a foreigner to the Egyptian people.
Yet the final passage of his 1842-1879 memoirs strikes a chord,
perhaps now more than ever:
“Whatever future awaits Egypt – whether it gains independence or
continues as a colony – justice will remain standing between the
ruler and subjects … [The peasant’s] country is not one of slavery
and his house is no longer that of a slave.”