When one thing leads to another.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have been fascinated by Egyptian culture and history all my life. It probably all started with the mystical, strange souvenirs that my father brought back to us in tranquil Ochtrup from his business trips to Sudan and Egypt in the 1960s. Small and large souvenirs, made of ebony, mother-of-pearl and alabaster. Little Thomas felt magically attracted to them. Today we would probably say: I was triggered.
During my studies of Ancient History, I visited the country on the great river for the first time as part of an excursion with the renowned Professor Metzler. After that, I was completely hooked. Immediately after graduating, I applied for a job with the study tour operator Dr. Tigges and from then on I was able to introduce the fascinating beauty and unique history of Egypt to countless inquisitive travelers on many trips in the 1980s.
So, dear friends, I am not a greenhorn here.
How I and my Egyptian partners managed to construct a real felucca in traditional wooden construction and bring it to the Nile still amazes me today. When we put the sail of the Horus into the wind and drift almost silently across the water, I sometimes have to pinch myself and rub my wet eyes.
And now a house of my own! I can't deny that there is also a little pride mixed in with the great joy. Because getting there wasn't easy. I didn't just buy a house, I planned and built it myself. Well, not all by myself of course, but together with my long-standing Egyptian partners, who have become good friends over the years. Just come with me, I'll show you!
From Oldenburg to Sehel
From the North German Plain, the quickest way to my second home is by train to Schiphol in the Netherlands. I continue by plane via Cairo to Aswan. When I step onto the gangway there after a journey time of 8 hours, I am always overcome with joy at being back in the land of my longing. And from the dry, hot air, which immediately envelops me in its typical aromatic flair and awakens that overwhelming coming-home feeling in me.
I am met at the airport by my old, reliable friend Galal, who drives me safely and calmly in his Peugeot 504 to the public ferry landing stage on what always seems like an adventurous journey. From there I take the boat to Sehel, my little island in the Nile, not far from the Aswan Dam.
A contemplative quarter of an hour
Once on the island, my path leads me on foot through a picturesque, mystical landscape with high, rocky granite formations. The rock carvings there bear witness to over 5000 years of settlement in this area. Back then, the surrounding desert was still a savannah where, according to the drawings, even elephants felt at home.
I like this quiet 15-minute walk from the ferry pier to my house. Now, in the blue-black light of the evening hours, there is a very special atmosphere here on the island that I always enjoy being enchanted by.
On my way, I have to pass through the small Nubian village that forms the center of the island. I now know my way around the winding, narrow clay alleyways. Vehicles, even the small tuk-tuk scooters, can't get through here. Sehel is a car-free island.
The buildings and alleyways, most of which are many decades old, have taken on the typical earth-colored patina of the local desert region. The houses are predominantly built of Nile mud bricks, windowless with irregularly plastered walls and a simple wooden entrance door. Some house walls are also whitewashed with a simple coat of paint or decorated with colorful Nubian ornaments.
I meet a few women and children on the streets, some of whom greet me in a reserved and friendly manner, but many of whom are also beaming and noisy. They know me and I am now more or less part of their village community. After all, I own a house on Sehel: "Ana ma'aya beet fi sehel".
This is rather unusual for a foreigner like me, as the legal situation here in the Nubian department of Aswan does not allow foreigners to acquire land. Sehel is part of the Nubian tribal area, which in turn belongs to the state. So my house is on a piece of land that doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Ahmed, whom I know from my previous trips with the Horus . Back then, his former parents' house served as my base camp for my Nile tours. First he was my landlord, then we became partners and finally we became good friends.
Three things are particularly important for every homeowner: location, location, location.
With a slight palpitation, I follow the course of the alley. A few more meters and I can already see it: Beautifully situated, on the edge of the village, directly on a tributary of the Nile lies my little paradise. Its name: "Kugi Dool". This is Nubian and means "house at the rapids". Why? Every summer, the dam opens its gates for a certain period of time. When the water makes its way over the granite rocks, the house and its garden border directly on a lively rapids. During the rest of the year, the water flows calmly and gently. The tributary is then almost cut off from the main stream and, with its untouched floodplain landscape, forms a retreat for water birds such as herons and kingfishers.
Style does not come by post.
But you can also make great plans over the phone.
The plan was to build a small house in the traditional Nubian style, made of fired Nile mud bricks with three rooms, a small kitchen and a bathroom. The result is a house with four rooms, a living room, two bathrooms and a generously equipped kitchen. The rooms with the barrel vaults typical of Nubia are grouped around a shady inner courtyard. From there you have access to the well-kept garden.
Achmed and his helpers built all of this in just one year. Architect? Why do you need an architect when you have ideas and skilled craftsmen on site?
I was regularly updated with photos of the construction progress via WhatsApp. On the phone, for example, we discussed the installation of the toilet - or so I thought. But in the next conversation, it turned out that Ahmed was talking about the choice of floor tiles. In the end, I had to realize that my Nubian friends were building the way they thought was right.
And it was exactly right to leave the further planning and implementation to them. This was the only way to make it not "just" an authentic Nubian house, but also a modern and functional one that meets the practical living needs of people in the 21st century. This includes a functioning air conditioning system as well as a reliable internet connection.
To make me happy, Ahmed and Galal have immortalized me with a larger-than-life portrait on the outside wall alongside the Nubian ornaments and paintings. This is not necessarily my style, but this form of appreciation touches me and gladdens my heart.
A peaceful home - for my family, for my friends and for you.
From the entrance hall, you step into the shaded inner courtyard. Benches with their comfortable, colorful cushions invite you to linger. When the coolness slowly rises from the water after sunset and a light breeze blows through the open windows and doors through the house and the airy courtyard, this is a unique place of peace and inspiration for me.
Date palms, limes and mango trees grow in the garden. Ahmed grows vegetables such as eggplants, melons and okra on tiny plots connected by a simple but effective irrigation system.
I can use the house for myself and my family, and if I'm not there, you are welcome to rent it.
The business principle is the same as with the Feluke: All the money we'll get, we'll make three parts: One for the house, one for the people and one for the owner.
Insh' Allah, a beautiful, tried and tested model.
Ahlān Wa Sahlan. See you soon. Or, as the Nubians say: "Bein Gameel", which means "Happy arrival". Either way: You are very welcome!