( ألبرت آريـــة } The Cairo Titi on his balcony Albert Arie, alias Titi, lives at Cairo in the same apartment for 79 years. In fact, 79... less 11 years imprisonment and detention on grounds of political beliefs non-conforming to the dominant ideas of the nasserienne Egypt. Albert is indeed Communist since the age of 15 years, influenced by her older sister who consorted activist Henri Curiel and his reading of The mother of Gorky. The location of the apartment was, throughout the years, the balcony overlooking the Tahrir square, where Tweety has observed and continues to spy on daily basis (after caring for her plants and an early morning Egypt news consultation) the life of Cairo, the events that are part of its history. Jewish by birth, born to a Turkish father and a mother Ashkenazi whose family had fled the pogroms, converted to Islam in order to marry a Muslim Egyptian (while a law stipulated that every citizen of the Jewish faith before May 15, 1947 was to keep his religion), considers the Egypt, despite the humiliation there suffered in jails of the desertas a land of refuge that he never left, except for trips to professional character. From his balcony, he saw unfold the history since 1935, in the heart of the city centre of Cairo. To turn the page, it seems that we must try to forget. But Titi has not forgotten: not a day, not a face, no name. It carries with it the weight of his personal history and that of the contemporary Egypt. Of his same apartment, it has witnessed revolutions, of fires, riots. (...) The balcony is the cornerstone of (my film), he draws the outlines of two other spaces that it binds together, interiority and exteriority. Inside, the thought of a life spent; outside, that of a people become. The balcony is the meeting of two generations, two spaces time. It is in these terms that Yasmina Benari presents the documentary she made about Albert Arié, and that is during final assembly. Albert introduces and sums up his balcony: our first meeting took place late May 1935. My parents had decided to move. Their choice brought on a new building to the 5A Street Boustan (Arabic Garden Street). I accompanied my mother to visit the last still vacant apartment on the 6th floor of the building. Need to climb a scaffold as a staircase. I was 5 years old e I do not quit my mothers hand. I then discovered the balcony of the apartment, a very long balcony open. In the distance, we could see the Museum in Cairo and the Nile criss-crossed by barges sailing. The Bustan Street was lined with flamboyant red flowers. Our choice was done and my mother signed lease. Now the balcony is part of my life. My first childhood photos were taken. I was photographing my friends and my love. During the second world war, the balcony enabled me to contemplate the sky dotted with projectors of anti-aircraft defence. January 26, 1952, Cairo was burning and I saw smoke and flames. I had to leave my balcony November 3, 1953. At the end of 11 years of prison and confinement, I redécouvris it on April 5, 1964. It no longer saw the Nile. A hideous hotel was built at the corner of the street and the flamboyant had been torn. My life went by on the edge of the balcony. Pictures of my wife and my children evidenced. It was then the turn of my grandchildren to be photographed. January 25, 2011, there was a change of decor. events, gunshots and tear gas jets became the daily. I followed the events of my balcony Tahrir square and my street had become the theatre of barricades and clashes. And it continues... Soon, I will no longer of this world. My grandfather and my father died in the apartment; It will be my turn. But the balcony, he will remain with others.
Posted on: Fri, 31 Oct 2014 07:04:02 +0000
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