Nature's gift under threat

Tucked away in its northwestern corner, close to its border with Libya, lies one of Egypt's best kept treasures. The only way to get there is by a new highway that runs deep through the desert. The road is so straight and isolated that speed and movement become diminishingly discernible as you drive along.

The Siwa oasis is not easy to get to. It is a 10-hour drive from Cairo. But it is so full of life that it appears as a small, lush patch of green, contrasting sharply with the surrounding desert.

Siwa is one of the most fascinating and distinct places in Egypt. Its natural environment is unique, with more than 200 bubbling mineral springs that have sustained life there for thousands of years.

Siwans, mainly of Berber extraction, are a proud community of just 10,000 — very different from Egyptians ethnically, and with their own distinct language. But like all things in Egypt, Siwa is struggling to keep up with the rapid pace of development.

Tourists are eager to see a place largely unchanged for hundreds of years. This intense attraction is bringing about irreversible changes to one of Egypt's most culturally rich places.

It is not difficult to see why Siwa has become such a popular international tourist destination. Eccentric Westerners who have “gone native'', choosing to stay in the oasis for long periods to paint or write, are now part and parcel of the local community.

Archaeologists trace the earliest Siwan settlements as far back as 7th century BC. At 12,000 years and counting, the town appears to the outsider as if time has stood still there.
Siwans, whose home is protected by a belt of hostile desert, are content living in their traditional mud-brick houses. They, in fact, prefer these buildings to government housing.

The oasis also has a history that rivals that of Giza or Luxor. Aside from the fact that the oldest human footprint was found here — it is around three million years old — Siwa is also considered to have had the ancient world's most famous oracle. The remnants of a temple there have also stood the test of time.

Legend has it that Alexander the Great once rode into this sleepy town — supposedly following birds through the desert — to consult the oracle. Alexander is said to have later descended the temple steps and informed Siwans that he had a revelation that he was the new Pharaoh of Egypt.
Siwa is now being marketed as one of the top eco-tourism destinations in the world.

Developers and businessmen from Cairo are capitalising on a 2002 decision by the government to give the oasis protected status. Some travellers are paying up to $500 (Dh1,800) a night to stay at luxury five-star eco-lodges, housed in renovated mud-brick buildings and illuminated entirely by lanterns and candles. It is a “return-to-nature'' experience that many now want to try.

The oasis has also played host to a number of famous personalities. Britain's Prince Charles, who is an advocate of sustainable development, saw how Siwans have resisted the use of pesticides and artificial fertilisers and yet manage to produce some of the best dates and olive oil in all of North Africa.

“They come here because they want to see what life was like before,'' says Hassan, a Siwan who works at an eco-lodge created out of the ruins of a thousand-year-old building in the town's central square. “Tourists want to try to live like us, with no electricity, no nothing.''

But Hassan says Siwans are not benefiting from the boost in tourism in recent years. “Some of us work in kitchens or do desert safaris, but most of us are still poor.''

Surprisingly, not one tourism company in Siwa is run by a Siwan. Most are based in Cairo, a place distant in the minds of many locals. “I'm Siwan,'' Hassan says defiantly when asked if he was Egyptian.

“Egyptians come from Cairo with tourists. They put them in hotels run by people from Cairo. They go out to the desert in vehicles brought from Cairo and then they go back to Cairo. How do you expect us to earn money from tourism?''

An apparent disregard for local livelihoods and a tourism industry that suffers from ineffective regulation has left many Siwans feeling bitter and sidelined for the sake of big business. While there is a feeling that the overarching arm of the Cairo-based government can never be fully avoided, there is anger among most Siwans over what the government is doing to their home.

With pressure from Cairo, Arabic is being increasingly used and Arabic expressions are finding their way into Siwi — a “seriously endangered'' language, according to Unesco. Nowadays, it is rare to find someone under the age of 40 who can speak it. Siwan traditional dresses and customs are disappearing as locals head out to Alexandria to obtain diplomas in tourism and to learn European languages.

The recent discovery of oil and the setting up of military bases around the town have led to an influx of outsiders.
That tourism or contact with the outside world will change the face of Siwa is not an issue. It is a fact of life. But many believe the Egyptian government is not trying hard enough to empower the locals by educating or providing them with opportunities to market the oasis for themselves.

There are some operators with a different outlook. Menna Maassarani, who works at Badawiya Travel, says Siwa is a big hit with customers. “It's by far the most popular oasis tour we have,'' she says. “Over the past three years, people are starting to catch on to the fact that Egypt is not only about the pyramids and has some really beautiful spots to visit.''

Maassarani's company, based in Cairo and one of the few owned by a Bedouin, employs a network of locals in the areas they visit. It is an exception to the rule; Badawiya also runs “Al Hayah'', a non-governmental organisation that helps local people in Egypt's oases by providing tourism education, language training and developing their marketing skills.

“We rely on [local] people in each of the areas we take our customers to. After all, it's their homes we are visiting. It's a win-win situation — beneficial for both [sides] as we have long-running deals,'' Maassarani adds.

Natural wealth

If Siwa is struggling to deal with its popularity, it also has to manage its natural wealth. The oasis owes its existence to hundreds of fresh-water springs that allow farming all year round.

But the abundance of water is also threatening livelihoods because, in the absence of adequate drainage, salt deposits are increasingly impeding the growth of crops. The water table is unusually high due to the unregulated digging of wells, and many areas of the oasis are turning to mud.

Bruno Masti is one of Egypt's leading authorities on sustainable development. Masti has been living in Siwa for many years and heads a team of Italian specialists working to improve soil and water conservation techniques and to increase crop diversification.

Siwa, he says, is sinking in its own water. “People don't see that the more wells you dig, the higher the water levels rise. Right now Siwans don't understand the extent of the problem.''

He says it is only recently that the Egyptian government, which had been aggressively pushing farmers to cultivate dates and olives on a large scale, has started taking an interest in the problem.

Masti's project also aims to promote organic farming and ensure that Siwans get a fair price for their produce in the international market. And the Egyptian government has been quick to see the potential for Siwan organic products in Europe and North America.

According to government figures, Siwa produces 40,000 tonnes of olives and 26,000 tonnes of dates every year in addition to two million cubic metres of bottled mineral water. Mohammad Abdul Rahim Shehata, the regional governor, says Egypt has an aggressive strategy for raising productivity and increasing foreign investment in Siwa. The plan envisages 20 years of tax-free status and a new international airport.

“It is Egypt itself that is the threat,'' Masti says. “It is encroaching on Siwa and you can see it all around now. Cheap but polluting Chinese bikes are everywhere and new, badly made apartment buildings are changing the face of the town.''

With adequate assistance from the government and international development agencies, Siwa can not only become a top eco-tourism destination but also be able to harvest high-quality produce for domestic and international markets.

But the asphalt jungle that characterises Egypt's main cities is also encroaching upon Siwa as development from Alexandria gobbles up more and more villages. This is something Siwa will want to avoid if it is to keep its identity and charm. Land is continually being bought by rich developers as tourist cash has translated into a surge in construction.

There are almost 1,000 hotel rooms spread out over just 20 square miles. The construction of the airport will also redefine the oasis and tourism figures are set to increase exponentially. Many people hope this will not lead to the type of development seen in the Red Sea resorts of Sharm Al Shaikh and Ain Sokhna, with their high-rise hotels and plastic palm trees lining pristine boulevards.

Faced with stark realities

Siwa is a fragile place from another time, and it is standing in the way of Egypt — where every livable space is exploited. Hassan, the hotel worker, points to the Gabal Al Mawt, or the Mountain of the Dead — a cemetery dating back thousands of years now illuminated with crass neon lighting at the request of the Ministry of Culture — and says: “Why should we have so many lights in a cemetery when we don't even have electricity in our houses?''

Siwans still love their country, but if Siwa is to benefit, Egypt must find better ways to encourage its people to contribute to the national good.

Who are the Siwans?

Siwans are not Egyptians as we know them. The oasis town was inhabited as early as 10,000BC by an indigenous community of Berbers. In ancient times, it was a stopover along a caravan route linking North Africa to the Arabian Peninsula.

Many Siwans have more in common with Libyans and have distant relatives across the border in the desert. They have a distinct tradition in dress and customs, separate from Egypt, and use a singular architectural style that relies on rock salt and mud-brick.

Ask a Siwan if he was Egyptian and he will reply to you in Siwi — which is unintelligible to Cairenes. According to Unesco, it is an Afro-Asiatic language that has become “seriously endangered'' because of the influence of Arabic.
Today, less than 5,000 people speak Siwi and the youngest speakers are past middle age.

The tiny oasis town has stood the test of time. In 1200 its population was just 40 because of internal feuds and attacks from nearby Berber tribes.

It is also unclear how integrated it was under the Pharaohs, and appears to have existed as an independent “state-within-a-state'' for hundreds
of years.

Coercion's curse

Umm Khalid, who lives on the outskirts of Siwa, is one of the few people trying to take advantage of the attention her home is getting. In recent years, both Egyptian and foreign NGOs have been identifying suitable applicants for micro-finance loans to try to strengthen the Siwans' ability to export their goods.

With a small cash loan, Umm Khalid makes traditional clothes that end up on the shelves of shops in downtown Cairo, as well as outlets in Europe.

But it has not been easy. “Paying back the loan is taking me a long time,'' says the 55-year-old mother of six. “I make about ten dresses a week and [what I earn is] not enough to pay off my debts.''

It is a common situation, compounded by the fact that it is actually a trade she picked up late in life.

“I've just started making dresses. Earlier, I would work on the farm and harvest, but people are telling us we can make and sell dresses and earn money,'' she says.

Umm Khalid is a common example of the pressures people here face trying to keep pace with change. “Just give me the farm and I'll be happy,'' she says, “and leave the work to the real dressmakers.''