On knife-edge, craftsmen guard dying profession

The call to noon prayer from a nearby mosque resounds across the Al Sayeda Zeinab district of Cairo.

Welcoming rays from the winter sun drench the goods at Hassan Arafa’s shop, lending their sharp edges a strong gleam.

“I implore to you, God, with the truthfulness of this azan [a call to prayer] to cover us with your mercy,” says Arafa, an Egyptian Muslim, in an audible voice.

“Where have your customers gone?” the 20-year-old man asks pensively, while pointing to knives dangling from the front of his workshop-cum-store in the Al Sayeda Zeinab district in south Cairo.

Arafa and his eldest brother Farouk took charge of the business after their father, a traditional knife sharpener, died some five years ago

As a child, I used to accompany my father when he walked down the streets carrying the knife-sharpening wheel on his back,” Arafa reminisces.

“I remember him calling out at the top of his voice to customers by shouting: ‘Sharpen your knife! Sharpen your scissors!’ In those days, people would respond to the call, get down and ask him to sharpen their kitchen knives. He would agilely do the job amid admiration from the waiting customers.”

Arafa fondly recalls that at the end of the work day, his father would get him candy and buy a sumptuous dinner for the family from his earnings.

Their tool was a grinding wheel attached to a pedal operated by the foot.

“After long years of practising this craft on the streets, my father saved enough money and decided to open this store that also includes a workshop for making and whetting knives, choppers and other tools,” says Arafa.

“He chose Al Sayeda Zeinab because it was the area where he was born. Another reason was the proximity of the place to the district slaughterhouse. But life is no longer good,” adds Arafa as he fixes his eyes on the overhead labyrinth of knives in the store.

The young man has mixed emotions towards the craft that he says is slowly dying.

“I can’t imagine my life without it because it was the profession of my father, who had inherited it from his father. But I don’t wish to pass the profession to my children,” he said.

Not only is it a dying profession that doesn’t rake in proper earnings, but its quite dangerous.

To sharpen a knife, Arafa uses his fingers to hold the blade against a motorised grinding wheel, tightly clasping the top of the knife with his other hand.

“Flying sparks can hit the eye. The sharpener can also hurt his hand or he can lose a finger,” he says.

But, he can’t hide his smile while explaining his trade.

“I can easily tell a skilled sharpener from a rookie by the way he holds the blade,” he said.

“Also, both blades of the knife should be equally sharp.”

Knife sharpening was first known in Egypt during the Pharaonic times, according to some historians. It thrived under the Fatimids, an Islamic dynasty, who ruled Egypt in the 10th century.

Until recently, traditional knife sharpeners could often be seen roaming Egypt’s streets, but due to cheaper competition less and less are taking up the profession.

“Some days we don’t sell or sharpen a single knife. May God punish the Chinese! I blame them for the sluggishness of our business.”

Over the past years, Egypt has been inundated with inexpensive Chinese products that range from children’s toys, footwear to cutlery.

“People now prefer Chinese knives. It is cheaper to buy one Chinese kitchen knife than getting an old knife sharpened or buying a new Egyptian knife. Our products are better in quality, but we can do nothing about the prices because the cost of everything has gone crazy in this country in recent months. You can buy a Chinese knife for 30 pounds [Dh6.8), while the price can be twice as high for an Egyptian knife.”

Prices of different items and services have gone up in Egypt since November last year when the government floated the local pound and cut fuel subsidy as part of tough economic reforms.

“They floated the pound, but drowned us!” says Arafa sarcastically.

“The flotation has made our state of affairs worse.”

In an attempt to promote their trade, Arafa and his older brother also sell barbecue utensils and grilling accessories that are also manufactured in their workshop.

“Most customers come to us in the days preceding Eid Al Adha,” he says, referring to a major Muslim festival, also known as the “Feast of Sacrifice”.

During the four-day holiday, sheep and cattle are slaughtered for sacrificial meat.

“In the run-up to Eid, we usually have high demands especially from butchers. This somewhat compensate us for stagnation in the rest of the year.”

Arafa charges five Egyptian pounds for sharpening a small knife or a pair of scissors. The fees go up, depending on the tool size.

“The earnings are not enough even to pay the store’s electricity bill that can reach 700 pounds per month,” he says.

“But we can’t close the shop because it has the smell of our father.

source : gulfnews