On Sunday the 25th of November 1923, two months after the maestro’s death, The Manchester Guardian Weekly ran a profile on Sayed Darwish, “the national hero who brought Egyptian music into the twentieth century.” Like so many other stories about this great composer it began with a tale of generosity, heavily inspiring this article. One cold December night, a shaggy arbagy horse carriage driver entered a café in Alexandria’s Kom El-Dika neighborhood looking for al-Sheikh Sayed Darwish. According to the cafe’s owner , the man’s long brown face and manure stench made him hard to distinguish from his horse. Gripping a slaughtered unfeathered duck, the driver loudly asked to see Sheikh Sayed. Everyone in the café burst out laughing. They were all there to see the sheikh. The café, once called something else, had been renamed the Sayed Darwish Café. In the beginning, Darwish, a local, sang there for tips. Now the old wooden chairs and sawdust covered floor were packed with fans hoping to catch a glimpse of the star, or a handshake, or even if they were lucky, a free concert. Darwish began to sing in this cafe…
