Living heritage

A historic townhouse in Old Cairo has been restored and turned into an arts hub for the community

WORDS BY LEMMA SHEHADI PHOTOGRAPHY BY YEHIA EL-ALAILY

“Heritage should be living,” says conservation architect

Alaa Al Habashi. “It should develop and should not be encased in museums.” For over 13 years, Al Habashi has worked to restore an 18th-century townhouse in Old Cairo yet, instead of turning it into a museum,

Al Habashi now lives in the house, and has transformed it into a cultural centre and public library to serve the local community. Beit Yakan, as the house is known, was once owned by elites from Cairo’s successive Mamluk, Ottoman and colonial rulers. But when Al Habashi bought the building in 2009, it belonged to a local butcher.

“Large sections of the roof had collapsed after the earthquakes of the 1992 and 2005, like many historic buildings. The remaining built premises were evacuated, suffered from years of neglect and finally served as a nursery for cows and sheep,” says Al Habashi. “A vast area of the courtyard was built over to house the owners, and the remaining part was used as the butcher’s slaughter podium.” Cairo boasts hundreds of historic homes, yet only a handful of these are protected by the Ministry of Culture and Antiquities. Even now, many are being destroyed to make way for new builds. “We’re seeing the erosion of the Historic City, due to neglect and demolitions,” says Al Habashi, who currently serves as the head of Menoufia University’s architecture department. The architect has worked on major recovery projects across Egypt and the Middle East, including the restoration of Bahrain’s pearl fishing trail, which has been placed on the UNESCO World Heritage List. According to Al Habashi, the house’s earliest known owner was Hassan Agha Kokilyan, a high-ranking military officer. Typical of the Mamluk style of architecture that was popular in Cairo, the stone house with arched windows was composed of several public quarters that served the community. This included a sabil or charitable water fountain. “Kokilyan dated the sabil back to 1694,” says Al Habashi, adding that the house may have been built sometime before the 1690s.

In the 19th century, Ottoman ruler Mohammed Ali, who ended Mamluk rule in Egypt, confiscated such townhouses and offered them to members of his family. The house’s new Ottoman owners, the Yakan brothers, shunned Mamluk architecture and attempted to conceal traces of it in their home. Instead, they opted for Ottoman baroque-style ceilings, with latticework windows instead of turned wood, and ornate wall paintings.

Beit Al Yakan is on a street known as Souk al Sleih, a market that was once dedicated to crafting weapons. Over time, it evolved into a hub for various other crafts. Today, carpentry has become the area’s main skillset.

These layers of Cairo’s history are immediately visible from the house’s exterior. In the building’s courtyard, the Mamluk-style stone walls have been left worn, as if to reveal the passage of time. The latticework and wooden balconies have been restored, and the collapsed roof rebuilt. To this, Al Habashi added his own contemporary interventions, with the aim of making all three time periods visible in the house.

The building’s library, which is open to the public, houses 20,000 books from Al Habashi’s collection. There, an Ottoman baroque-style painted ceiling was fixed adjacent to one from the Mamluk era. A simple and modern steel staircase gives access to the towering bookshelves. “The modern additions reflect the house’s continuity, from the 18th and 19th centuries to the present day,” says the architect.

But for Al Habashi, a personal highlight is the newly installed lift. “A lot of people are surprised when I say this,” he says. “Introducing new technologies into the house, while preserving its historic character, was the biggest challenge. But this continuity is essential to living heritage.”

Al Habashi gathered a team of local stonemasons and carpenters whom he had met and trained over his years while working as a conservation architect. Such collaborations, he explains, are challenging due to the dwindling numbers of craftsmen and the lack of knowledge in historic techniques. “The craftsmen have not been trained in conservation and their approach is always to renew,” he explains, “so it’s the architectural conservator’s job to work closely with them.”

The house is a rare example in Cairo of what is known as adaptive re-use: creating functional living spaces that blend historic buildings with contemporary additions. “I want locals, particularly from the neighbourhood, to see what is possible when you restore heritage buildings.” id