ISMAILIYA
's
schizoid
character
is
defined
by the
rail
line
that
cuts
across
the city.
South of
the
tracks
lies the
European-style
garden
city
built
for
foreign
employees
of the
Suez
Canal
Company,
extending
to the
verdant
banks of
the
Sweetwater
Canal.
Following
careful
restoration,
its
leafy
boulevards
and
placid
streets
of
colonial
villas
look
almost
as they
must
have
done in
the
1930s,
with
bilingual
street
signs
nourishing
the
illusion
that the
British
empire
has just
popped
indoors
for
cocktails.
North
of the
train
tracks
you move
into
another
world of
hastily
constructed
flats
grafted
onto
long-standing
slums
, and a
quarter
financed
by the
Gulf
Emirates
that
provides
a
cordon
sanitaire
for the
wealthy
suburb
of
Nemrah
Setta
(Number
Six).
This
Janus-profile
reflects
the
city's
twentieth-century
history
, when
two
disparate
sons of
Ismailiya
had a
lasting
effect
on
Egyptian
society.
Hassan
el-Banna
created
the
Muslim
Brotherhood
that was
the bane
of the
British,
and has
vexed
Egypt's
rulers
since
independence.
Two
generations
later,
Ismailiya
became
synonymous
with
Osman
Ahmed
Osman
, a self-made
millionaire
contractor
whom
Sadat
appointed
as
Minister
of
Housing
and
Reconstruction
in 1975.
As Gulf
investments
poured
into the
Canal
Zone,
billboard-sized
pictures
of Osman
began to
outnumber
those of
his
patron,
who
finally
agreed
to
opposition
demands
for an
audit.
By the
time it
was
discovered
that
millions
had been
stashed
in Swiss
banks,
Osman
had fled
the
country.
Subsequent
investigations
into his
political
connections
proved
inconclusive
and he
is now
back in
business.
The
Town and
around
Ismailiya's
carefully
restored
old town
is a
pleasure
to walk
or bike
around,
shaded
by
pollarded
trees.
Most of
the
sights
can be
reached
on foot
within
ten
minutes,
although
a couple
of
places
outside
town
warrant
renting
a
bicycle
in the
backstreets
off
Mohammed
Ali Quay,
or
catching
a
service
taxi
from the
turn-off
near
Mallaha
Park.
Starting
on
Mohammed
Ali Quay,
first on
the
trail is
the
large,
vaguely
Swiss-looking
House
of
Ferdinand
de
Lesseps
, who
lived
here
during
the
canal's
construction.
Disappointingly,
you can
only
visit
the
interior
if
you're
some
kind of
VIP,
since
the
house
now
serves
as a
private
hotel
for
guests
of the
Suez
Canal
Authority.
In De
Lesseps's
study,
books
and
photographs
are
scattered
around
his desk
and bed
as if
the
Frenchman
had been
reviewing
his
life's
work,
while
his
carriage
stands
outdoors,
encased
in glass.
Lone
visitors
might
chance a
peek
inside
if the
rear
gate is
open;
otherwise,
you
could
try
presenting
yourself
at the
Suez
Canal
Authority
and
bluffing
the
press
officer
into
fixing a
visit -
though
this
could
well
prove a
waste of
time.
A
pleasant
fifteen
minutes'
walk
down the
street
from the
De
Lesseps
House,
the
Ismailiya
Museum
(Sat-Thurs
9.30am-4pm,
Fri and
during
Ramadan
9.30am-2pm;
ĢE6)
leans
towards
ancient
history,
devoting
a
section
to the
waterways
of
Ramses
and
Darius.
The
highlights
of its
collection
of four
thousand
Greco-Roman
and
pharaonic
artefacts
is a
lovely
mosaic
from the
fourth
century
AD,
depicting
Phaedra,
Dionysos,
Eros and
Hercules.
Other
sections
cover
the
canal in
modern
history,
the
Battle
of
Ismailiya
and the
"Crossing"
of
October
1973.
With
permission
from the
museum,
one can
also
visit
some
plaques
and
obelisks
from
Ramses
II's
time, in
the
Garden
of
Steles
down the
road,
past the
guarded
residence
of the
head of
the
Canal
Authority.
It's
nicer to
wander
amid the
500
acres of
exotic
shrubs
and
trees of
Mallaha
Park
, or
stroll
alongside
the
shady
Sweetwater
Canal
that was
dug to
provide
fresh
water
for
labourers
building
the Suez
Canal.
Previously,
supplies
had to
be
brought
across
the
desert
by
camels,
or
shipped
across
Lake
Manzala
to Port
Said.
