The departure of Kit Kat’s houseboats

It's rare to gaze upon beauty amid the crowded chaos of Cairo, but among the few attractive sights that have always enchanted me were the colorful wooden houseboats that lined the Nile Corniche of Kit Kat. They would reflect the light from amid the trees hugging them — a miniature paradise besieged by concrete buildings all around.

That was before the swift implementation of a government decree to remove Kit Kat's houseboats in late June and early July.

The departure of the houseboats, which many of Cairo's residents saw as an essential feature of the Nile view, fell heavy on the hearts of many, some of whom, like myself, went to bid these brides of the Nile farewell. Sorrow and tension blanketed the final moments of residents' leave-taking, moments incompatible with ordinary concepts of time, moments bearing the many memories of lives long lived in these spaces. Houseboat residents used to hear the wind in the trees and birds in their gardens and on the Nile; now the clamor of deconstruction took over as some houseboats were dismantled in attempts to minimize material losses or due to structural issues that precluded them from being towed away intact.

While many of the houseboat owners resisted their forced dislocation, making numerous attempts to stall or reverse the government decree, their previously well-tended banks ended up with only stairs leading from the street directly into the Nile.

With their houseboats impounded in temporary mooring sites as they await their ultimate fate, the owners have been left to pick up the pieces of their lives. Some will continue attempts to seek solutions that may offer a new life to their houseboats in other locations on the Nile. But it appears that the sight of this historical residential community that always enchanted me from the banks of Kit Kat has been lost forever.