I initially thought this would be a simple walk down a single street. But I should have known better. We’re talking about a street in Islamic Cairo—layers upon layers of history.
That’s why this post will be divided into two parts.
Ramadan crescent became a lantern too in Taht al-Rab'a
This year, I decided to explore the street on foot instead of driving, as I did last year when I took Bab El-Khalq to Bab Zuweila via Ahmed Maher Street, historically and socially known as Taht el-Rab’a.
Walking through it is an entirely different experience, especially with the annual Ramadan bazaar taking shape in the middle of Sha’ban, about 15 days before the holy month begins.
Tahte El-Rab’a Street starts at the Cairo Security Directorate—currently undergoing major renovations—and ends at Bab Zuweila.
For more than 150 years lanterns have been made and sold in Taht el-Rab'a
The street is the heart of Egypt’s traditional handmade Ramadan lantern industry, locally and globally.
It is home to workshops that craft these lanterns from glass and tin, most of them family businesses passed down through generations.
One of the workshops specialized in lanterns, as well as tinware and copperware
Some of these workshops also produce other tinware and copperware items, as demand for such dinnerware has recently increased.
However, during this time of year, the primary focus remains on Ramadan lanterns.
One of the workshops specialized in lanterns, as well as tinware and copperware
The exact reason why or how Taht El-Rab’a became a hub for lantern-making remains unclear, but historians trace this tradition back about a century and a half.
Before Scheherazade continues her tale and we discover what happened to Fatima, Halima, and Karima as they fall deeper into the web of their auntie Reema, it’s time for a little chitchat and some trivia about this season of One Thousand and One Nights, Egypt’s legendary radio show.
Our radio Scheherazade, Zouzou Nabil, portrayed Reema in the 1987 TV adaptation of the tale. However, the Reema we hear in this Ramadan’s radio broadcast is voiced by the renowned Egyptian actress Malak El-Gamal.
Colorized photo of Malak El-Gamal in 1966 "Tofahet Adam"
I had recognized Reema’s voice in the radio version as familiar, yet I couldn’t pinpoint which veteran actress it belonged to—until I stumbled upon the answer by accident.
Born in Port Said in 1929, El-Gamal graduated from the Faculty of Arts, English Department, before enrolling at the Higher Institute of Acting Arts. She began her career in radio before transitioning to theater and eventually becoming a well-known film actress, specializing in complex roles, particularly as a villain.
She is remembered as the first Egyptian actress to portray a queer character on the silver screen in Salah Abu Seif’s El-Tareeq El-Masdood (1958), based on Ihsan Abdel Quddous' novel. The role was groundbreaking, even though the character was one of the antagonists the heroine encounters in her journey.
Her role in the 1962 film Black Candles was a classic performance, and she became a horror icon despite the film not being a horror movie.
Both Malak El-Gamal and Zouzou Nabil are among Egypt’s legendary villainesses and radio icons. If Nabil was our Radio Scheherazade, then El-Gamal was our talkative, bubbly Auntie Bamba—the beloved voice who guided Egyptian housewives for 12 years on the famous radio show To the Housewives, the oldest and longest-running program in Egyptian radio history. It has been on air for an astounding 71 years.
The showrunner and presenter of To the Housewives was Safia El-Mohandas, the wife of Mahmoud Shaaban—the creator and showrunner of the One Thousand and One Nights radio series. It is no surprise that both Shaaban and El-Mohandas are often referred to as the father and mother of Egyptian radio broadcasting.
Now, back to Malak El-Gamal—the Villainess Queen. It is said that she was the true muse of the famous Egyptian poet Ibrahim Nagi and the inspiration behind his iconic poem Al-Atlal (The Ruins), which was later immortalized in song by Umm Kulthum. Ironically, another theory suggests that the true muse was none other than Zouzou Hamdy El-Hakim, the undisputed queen of villainous roles in Egyptian cinema.
Malak El-Gamal’s career and life were tragically short. She passed away in 1982, following the deaths of her son and grandson. Yet, her legacy as one of Egyptian cinema’s most unforgettable villainesses of the 1960s and 1970s remains unparalleled.
Honestly, I felt it was a great opportunity to remember and shed some light on that fine actor.
Now, here is the 679th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the seventh night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima but first refresh your memory and remember what Reema did last night.
Before we find out how Reema will truly turn the lives of Fatima, Halima, and Karima upside down after entering their world as a caring mother figure, let’s have a little chitchat about Reema—the one who always returns to her old ways, her old wicked ways.
Taher Abu Fasha was not just a gifted storyteller but also a master of folklore, deeply celebrating Egyptian and Arabic proverbs and traditions.
Abu Fasha deliberately chose Reema from the well-known Egyptian proverb, "Reema has returned to her old ways." Like most things in Egypt, this proverb has a long and surprising history.
Interestingly, it is not purely an Egyptian proverb but rather an Arab saying with multiple versions and different heroines across the region.
Originally, it was“Halima has returned to her old ways” in Levant, but according to the book 1000 Proverbs and Sayings, the proverb was altered in Egypt, becoming "Reema has returned to her old habit." The book describes it as "a well-known and widely used proverb with a famous story behind it, encouraging people not to revert to bad habits and traditions."
Additionally, the 1949 book The Encyclopedia of Egyptian Folk Proverbs “Most important guide for Egyptian proverbs” mentions three variations of the proverb which are: "Reema has returned to her old habit.", "Halima has returned to her old habit." and "Salima has returned to her old habit."
The book explains that Reema could be a female name or simply used for the sake of rhyme. The meaning behind the proverb is that "nature prevails over nurture", implying that when a person attempts to change their habits, they often struggle to do so.
According to the 1971 book Lest It Be Lost (Lialla Tadi’a), another version of the proverb's origin story traces back to Halima, the wife of Hatim al-Tai. Hatim al-Tai was a Pre-Islamic Arab poet and nobleman in Arabia famous for his unparalleled generosity, while Halima, in contrast, was known for her extreme frugality.
It is said that whenever she added butter to her cooking, her hand would tremble from reluctance. Wanting to teach her generosity, Hatim told her that the ancients believed every spoonful of butter added to a dish would grant a person an extra day of life. Encouraged by this idea, Halima began adding more butter to her food, eventually becoming accustomed to generosity. However, when her only son—whom she deeply loved—passed away, she was overcome with grief and wished for death. In her despair, she started reducing the amount of butter in her cooking, hoping that by doing so, her life would be shortened. Observing this, people said: "Halima has returned to her old ways."
According to the 15th century book Thamarat Al-Awraq by Ibn Hujjah al-Hamawi, Halima al-Zanariyah was a courtesan in Ayyubid Cairo who repented, adopting a life of piety. She abandoned music and wine, dedicating herself to prayer. However, her resolve waned, and one spring day, she returned to her old ways, prompting people to say: "Halima has returned to her old habits."
According to the 1985 book, Beirut Proverbs in the Context of Lebanese Proverbs (Al-Amthila Al-Bayrutiyya fi Siyaq Al-Amthila Al-Lubnaniyya), offers a different explanation. It states that Halima was a kind-hearted woman but inherently lazy and lacking ambition. Her husband constantly urged her to work, and while she would momentarily comply, she would soon revert to her idle habits. When this cycle repeated itself too many times, her husband finally remarked: "Halima has returned to her old ways."
Enough chitchat about Reema’s origins—let us now tune in and see what Reema is up to.
Here is the 678th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show or the sixth night in our tale for this year, the Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima.
Before we tune in to Scheherazade to find out what the Sultan did with the mysterious fair maiden—the one who owns the palace that appeared out of nowhere and refuses to be questioned in her domain—let’s have a little chitchat, as usual.
In the televised adaptation of our tale, Zouzou Nabil, our original radio Scheherazade, will appear as Reema. I won’t give away any spoilers about Reema just yet.
Born in 1920, Aziza or Zouzou Nabil portrayed Scheherazade for more than 23 years on our radio show, which was produced by Egyptian State TV.
Though she was never a leading lady in cinema or television, Zouzou Nabil appeared in 80 films between 1939 and 1996 and 72 TV series from 1962 to 1996, including seven adaptations of One Thousand and One Nights.
Here’s a little piece of information I only recently learned: Zouzou Nabil had one son, who was killed in the October 1973 war.
Enough of the chitchat—now, let’s tune in to Zouzou Nabil, the legendary voice of Scheherazade, in the fifth episode of our tale this year, or the 677th episode of the beloved radio show.
We continue our tale for this year, the Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima
Tonight’s episode features Taher Abu Fasha drawing on one of the most recurring themes in the original One Thousand and One Nights—the Sultan or King disguising himself to observe his subjects or unexpectedly visiting a palace.
This theme was especially prominent in the One Thousand and One Nights, which was compiled during the second Abbasid era. It was inspired by real events in Islamic history, beginning with Caliph Umar, who disguised himself to check on his citizens. The practice was also followed by Caliph Omar Ibn Abdul Aziz of the Umayyads and Caliph Harun Al-Rashid of the Abbasids.
We will leave the Kings and Sultans who checked on their citizens and return to our tale.
Now, let’s gather around Scheherazade to listen to the fourth episode of our tale—or, to be precise, the 676th episode of the beloved radio show.
Episode 4: Do Not Ask Questions in This Palace
When it was the seventy-sixth night after the six-hundredth, Shahryar the king took his seat upon his throne, and Scheherazade arrived at the appointed hour. She greeted him with reverence and sat before him, resuming her tale where it had left off:
"It has reached me, O king of the age, that when King Safwan heard from the servant Marjan the wondrous tale of the mysterious palace and the fruits that ripen out of season, he was seized with an unrelenting curiosity to uncover the secrets of that place.
Now, let’s gather around Scheherazade to listen to the third episode of our tale—or, to be precise, the 675th episode of the beloved radio show.
Episode 3: The Curious Case of Palacy Neighbour
When it was the seventy-fifth night after the six-hundredth, King Shahryar took his place as he did the night before, and Scheherazade began her tale as per their custom. She spoke:
“It is said, O wise and gracious King, that when Murjan the servant left the enchanted garden, he hurried directly to the royal court. There, he approached King Safwan, accompanied by the vizier and the prince, and recounted every detail of what he had witnessed. He described the magnificent beauty of the lady of the palace, their mysterious exchange, and handed over the golden basket containing the three clusters of grapes. The sight of the grapes stirred great astonishment among the three men.
Before I go into our tale, a little chitchat about the televised version. It was not a Fawzeer show like in 1986 and 1985. It was a classical format of the radio show, merged with a musical TV show.
And so, we continue our tale, eager to uncover the mystery of the palace that suddenly appeared before the Sultan’s own. If you do not recall the events of our last episode, you may refresh your memory by listening to last night’s telling.
Now, let us hear it from Scheherazade.
Without further delay, I present the second episode of our story—The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima, or the 674th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast by the Egyptian State Radio.
Episode 2: Grapes for sick neighbours
When it was the seventy-fourth night after the six hundred and first, Shahryar the King took his seat in the evening’s assembly as he had done the night before. It was not long before Scheherazade entered, like a supple bough adorned with the fruits of dreams, exhaling the fragrance of nights long past and days yet to come. She greeted the king with the finest of salutations and spoke these words:
“It has reached me, O wise and noble king, that the tale of Prince Wardan and his strange encounter with a palace unlike any other continues thus:
When King Safwan grew enraged at his son’s refusal to wed the bride he had chosen, he granted him a short respite to reconsider. In the meantime, Prince Wardan gathered his courage and sought an audience with his father.
Falling to his knees before the king, he confessed his love for a maiden who had captured his heart—a vision glimpsed through the lattice of a palace window. ‘She dwells,’ he said, ‘in a grand palace that stands before ours.’
Hearing this, the king was taken aback and thought his son delusional, for there were no palaces near the royal residence—indeed, construction in that area was strictly forbidden.
Yet even as the king mulled over these strange words, the doors to the royal chamber flew open, and the servant Murjan stumbled in, his face pale with astonishment. He wailed, ‘A palace, O Sultan! A palace has appeared before ours!’
The king rose in alarm, summoning his vizier and guards to follow. Together they approached the prince’s quarters, where Murjan opened the window to reveal the sight that had so astounded him. And lo! There it stood: a magnificent palace gleaming in the moonlight, its grandeur unparalleled.
‘By the grace of the Almighty!’ exclaimed the king. ‘What sorcery is this? How was such a marvel erected without our knowledge? Speak, Wardan, for surely this is no work of mortal hands!’
Prince Wardan, still awestruck, raised his hand and pointed toward the window. "My father, it is no illusion. The maiden of whom I spoke sits there, by that very window. From the moment my eyes beheld her, my thoughts have been ensnared by her beauty."
"She shone with the radiance of the full moon, and beside her stood a handmaiden, attending to her—combing her hair with delicate care," the young prince declared to his father, the Sultan.
Overcome with curiosity, the king turned to Murjan and said, ‘Murjan, I entrust you with uncovering the truth of this matter. Seek out the palace’s servants and gatekeepers. Spare no effort in learning its secrets.’
Murjan bowed low. ‘At once, my lord.’
Disguising himself, Murjan approached the palace. To his astonishment, there were no guards, no doormen, no sign of any human presence. He waited for hours, yet no one entered or exited the gates. Finally, he scaled the walls and slipped inside, finding himself in a garden of unparalleled beauty. There were fruit trees heavy with grapes, figs, and oranges—all ripening out of season.
Overwhelmed by the spectacle, Murjan hid himself behind a grand column to observe further. But fearing the king’s wrath if he delayed, he soon crept out as he had come, unseen and unheard. Returning to the royal court, he recounted his strange findings.
‘My lord,’ said Murjan, ‘the palace appears deserted. Yet its gardens bear fruits of every kind, and the maiden your son described is indeed seated by the window.’
King Safwan frowned, deep in thought. ‘This matter grows stranger still. Minister, what do you propose?’
The vizier replied, ‘My king, let us test the waters.” Send Murjan back to the palace to request fruit from its garden under the guise of aiding a sick neighbor. If there are inhabitants, they will surely respond.’
Murjan departed once more, carrying out the vizier’s instructions. He knocked on the great doors of the palace, calling out, ‘We are your neighbors and seek but a cluster of grapes for ailing kin.” Surely, such a request will not go unanswered.’
To his surprise, the doors swung open of their own accord. From within came a voice like music, bidding him enter. There he was greeted by a veiled figure who handed him a golden basket brimming with grapes. The figure spoke:
‘Grapes for your kin and blessings upon your house. Every gift has its reason, and every cause its purpose.’
Taking the basket, Murjan offered his thanks and departed. Returning to the court, he presented the gilded basket to the king, who marveled at its craftsmanship and its contents. The intrigue deepened, and all awaited the next move in this unfolding mystery.
And here, Scheherazade saw that dawn had arrived, so she fell silent, leaving the tale untold.
In the spirit of Ramadan, I invite you to support UNICEF’s relief efforts in Gaza and Sudan as well as other places in the globe. Every pound, dollar, or euro can make a difference.
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