Dokan: Colorful nostalgia of the 1990s

Have you turned 30 yet? Have you started using phrases like, “10 or 15 years ago, when I was at college?” If so, please join me in some sentimentality for our past.

Scoot over, oldies, for the 1990s generation is now officially nostalgic.

In a small shop in Mohandiseen, Ayman Abou al-Hassan and his friends opened Dokan to sell nostalgic souvenirs from the 1990s. These include trays featuring Salah Jahin and Sayed Mekkawi’s epic “al-leila al-kebeera” (the moulid’s grand night) puppet operetta, televised in the 1980s to become a central relic of the 1990s generation childhood. The playful and colorful scenes and characters from this moulid’s carnival and circus — imprinted on teacups, bags, coasters and tableaux — escort you to a trip down memory lane, to a childhood of VHS tapes, stretch shorts and cassette players. 

Dokan’s products introduce a new decorative taste, an alternative to the black and white nostalgic products of Egypt’s pre-1952 “belle epoque” and the touristic Islamic or Pharaonic motifs that flood the market.

“We focus on colors,” Hassan, a co-owner of the store, tells me.

“It is more expensive to produce such colorful products than, say, the black and white souvenirs that have been prevalent in the past years. But our nostalgia is in color, and we wanted to relay this. We wanted to focus on fun products,” he adds.

My visit to Dokan reminded me of another event that took place only a few months ago. The contemporary art space Townhouse exhibited a multimedia art project titled “My Nineties,” featuring video recordings of the television programs of the 1990s. The 1990s generation watched a lot of the same television programs and cultivated a passion for recording them on VHS tapes, which artist Mohamed Allam collected and played to broadcast the collective memory of this era.

There were only a couple of television channels and very few programs available to the children of the 1990s. This produced a particularly strong collective memory, one that is limited but powerfully colorful.

Dokan does not target tourists, but focuses on an Egyptian clientele, who would like to share tokens from their past with their friends and children.

“We wanted to sell products that are unique to our popular culture. Some clients have asked me for matching Boogie and Tamtam T-shirts for themselves and their children,” Abou al-Hassan says.

Boogie and Tamtam are the lead characters of a popular Egyptian puppet show aired throughout the 1990s in Ramadan. In Dokan, you can find canvas featuring these characters that would make for precious local replacements for the generic Disney characters hung on the walls of your children’s bedroom.

Abou al-Hassan recounts how he and a couple of his friends and family members opened this small shop with very little capital. They are now contemplating closing the shop and selling their products online, because the business is struggling. 

“Times are tough, and people are not in the mood to buy these fun souvenirs,” he explains. “We opened the shop five months ago, hoping that the economy would have rebounded by now; but we are barely making enough to pay for rent and the shopkeeper’s wage.”

Dressed in a bright yellow Dokan T-shirt, with the inscription “ana al-shaab” (I am the people”— a memorable line from a popular comic play that aired numerous times on our 1990s television screens — Abou al-Hassan tells me about all the amazing product ideas and designs he wishes to produce.

The story of Dokan is not only symptomatic of how small businesses are struggling in Egypt’s frail economy, or merely a sample of the ideas and dreams of a generation that wants something more than a 9 to 5 job. More importantly, it is a quest for much-needed reminders of lighthearted pleasures and memories amid the piles of disappointment that surrounds us.

In as much as the January 25 revolution is a reflection of the people’s demand for freedom, Dokan is a reminder of a generation’s quest for fun.