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FeatureWorld

The ‘last custodian’ of Jewish Cairo 

Once a vibrant Jewish community, Cairo’s Jewish remnant today is a dozen old synagogues and one tenacious woman.
Waseem Abu Mahadi
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Magda Haroun and the Ben Ezra synagogue (supplied)

Published: 14 January 2026

Last updated: 15 January 2026

The man behind the desk hesitated when he reached the line that listed her religion. He looked from her ID back to her face as if the two did not belong to the same person.  

Magda Haroun recalls the encounter with a tired smile. It happens often. “They look at my ID and they look at me and say, ‘Is it true?’ I stand up and tell them: look, two arms, two legs, no tail. My nose isn’t that bad. I am a human being like you.” 

In today’s Egypt, she is often the first Jew that people have ever encountered, but Cairo was once a Jewish hub, a community that included Moses Maimonides and the Saadia Gaon, and, more recently, actress Leila Mourad and pioneering animators Herschel, Shlomo, and David Frenkel. 

Today Haroun cares for a community that exists more in memory than in life. She oversees 12 synagogues and scattered community graveyards, including Bassatine — one of the oldest Jewish cemeteries in the world. They are the remaining fragments of a once-vibrant world.  

It is a lonely task in a city where few Jews remain. “Sometimes I hear my own footsteps too loudly,” she said. “It reminds me that I am walking where hundreds once walked together. There are days when I enter a synagogue and feel like I am walking into my father’s house after everyone has left.”  

She is not just managing buildings: she is carrying the psychological residue of an entire history, and she is painfully aware that there is no heir apparent to take up the burden.  

In her downtown office, a rolled map of Bassatine leans against a bookshelf and papers about long-quiet synagogues rest in uneven piles. Memory is an almost physical pressure.  

“The day [will come when] there will be no Jews in Egypt, Bassatine will be gone,” she said. “The cemetery, the graves, the memory—everything.”  

“The young generation forgot, or never knew, that Jews lived in Egypt” 

Magda Haroun

Already, knowledge of the community’s history has faded. “When you go to a Jewish cemetery in Morocco, every tomb has a name. But here, especially in Bassatine, the tombs have no names.”  

That reality has driven her to plan Egypt’s first Jewish museum. “The museum is for Egyptians—for the memory of the Jews who lived here.” She sees it as a way of compressing a civilization into a form that can survive without its people. “When Egypt is empty of its Jews, there will be a permanent exhibition.”  

She plans to fill the old synagogues and corridors with artefacts that pay homage to the historically significant community: her great-grandfather’s engraved crystal glasses, the Frenkel Brothers’ original animation reels, and recordings of her mother’s voice among them.  

Haroun has already opened ancient synagogues that had been forgotten. “They were all closed. So closed that even I, an Egyptian Jew, didn’t know we had all these synagogues. We were kept in the dark.”  

The intention may have been preservation, but invisibility erases the Jewish history of the country. “The young generation forgot, or never knew, that Jews lived in Egypt.” 

Her own family history is woven deeply into her sense of duty and her attachment to Egypt. Her father Shehata Haroun refused to leave Egypt even when another daughter needed medical care abroad. The state would only allow him a one-way exit. He refused. His daughter died, and her grave was eventually lost beneath modern construction. “He gave a lot,” she said softly. “He loved this country to madness. I inherited this mad love.” 

Haroun was born when Alexandria still had a Jewish hospital, L’Hôpital Israélite. Decades later, when retrieving her birth certificate, a clerk insisted her nationality must be “Israeli” because of the hospital’s name. “My father was Egyptian, born in Alexandria—what nationality can I be?” she asked him. The episode revealed the quiet weight of being seen as foreign in the place she considers home. 

She spent 12 years abroad—Kuwait, Hong Kong, Japan, Turkey—and felt “like a fish out of water”. She tried to assimilate, marrying a Muslim Egyptian and raising her children in a Muslim home. 

But her attachment to the Jewish community persisted. She became a representative for the absent community. 

When Egypt’s president ordered the restoration of all 12 synagogues, it felt like recognition. Yet the limits are unmistakable. The head of the Supreme Council of Antiquities asked her to pay four million dollars to repair the roof of Ben Ezra synagogue. She answered plainly: “I do not have four million. I have four thousand pounds.” 

Small encounters encourage her. One Rosh Hashanah, a young Egyptian man arrived with a basket of apples and honey. “I don’t know you, you don’t know me. But I know today is Rosh Hashanah,” he said. 

After October 7, she felt the atmosphere shift. “We used to do a lot of activities, and everything stopped,” she said. Still, she continues to appear in official circles—ministries, embassies, cultural institutions—where she is received as a dignitary.   

“We are Egyptians,” she said. “We’re not enemies. Maybe we love this country more than anybody else.”  

When I asked whether she ever considers stepping away from the burden, she shook her head. “If I walked away, I would lose myself.”  

Her responsibilities are vast, her community tiny, the future uncertain. Yet she remains the one who shows up. And in a country where tombstones have lost their names and synagogues stand without congregations, that matters.

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About the author

Waseem Abu Mahadi

Waseem Abu Mahadi

Waseem Abu Mahadi is a Palestinian journalist, writer and peace actvist, focused on shedding light on the complexities of the Palestine-Israel conflict. He currently lives in Giza, Egypt.

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Comments9

  • Avatar of Deborah Stone

    Deborah Stone9 June at 09:13 am

    https://www.facebook.com/D.O.M.Egypt

  • Avatar of Traci Safer West

    Traci Safer West7 June at 05:02 pm

    How can I find Magda? I’m in Cairo with my daughter and would love to invite her to dinner!

  • Avatar of Deborah Stone

    Deborah Stone22 January at 09:54 am

    I have passed your email to the journalist concerned who will pass it on to Magda.

  • Avatar of Mahu Gaëlle

    Mahu Gaëlle21 January at 09:58 pm

    Bonjour
    Savez vous s’il est possible de rentrer en contact avec Magda Haroun car j’aimerais lui poser des questions dans le cadre de mes recherches généalogique sur mes ancêtres juifs sepharade italiens ayant vécu à Smyrne en Turquie puis en Egypte au Caire
    Merci d’ancêtres pour votre aide
    Cordialement

  • Avatar of Michelle Braunstein

    Michelle Braunstein19 January at 08:32 pm

    I too am descended from Egyptian Jews, my father violently expelled along with his brother and parents, and other relatives. I’ve met Arab Egyptians who had no idea we existed there since antiquity, however I have met Copts, Indigenous to Egypt, who knew too well our history and what happened to us, as they also experienced this trajectory of persecution by the Islamosocialist complex.

    I’ve followed Magda Haroun’s story since 2013, when I began some research and initially bought into an narrative led by certain scholars that it was 1948 that was the catalyst for Jewish expulsion, however the Arab-Muslim treatment of Copts throws that theory into a very different light, as well as the fact there was a deadly anti-Jewish riot in Cairo in 1945 and of course the Farhud in Baghdad was in 1941.

    More stories about the Jews of the Middle East need to be told, especially at this time. Westerners need to understand this trajectory and what dhimmitude entails.

  • Avatar of Jeremie

    Jeremie15 January at 01:39 pm

    Thank you to TJI for publishing this powerful and necessary story, and for drawing attention to a history that is too often forgotten. My father’s entire family lived in Alexandria, Egypt for generations. In 2020, just before COVID, I met Magda at the synagogue, and thanks to her and her assistants I was able to locate my grandfather’s grave, after whom I was named. It was an extraordinary and deeply moving act of preservation, care, and dignity.

  • Avatar of Jak Grimm

    Jak Grimm15 January at 07:58 am

    Please have a look at aviclo.weebly.com. This is a library of documents written by my father-in-law, Joe Bentata, who left Cairo in 1950’s, to live in Australia.

  • Avatar of Joanna

    Joanna15 January at 07:17 am

    Fantastic story – thank you for sharing it.

  • Avatar of Dani

    Dani15 January at 06:33 am

    My father, his sister and his parents were all born in Cairo. There are thousands of us descended from Egyptian Jews. I visited there in 2010. It was impossible to get any official documents from the synagogue or the government. Now the government has taken the synagogue records as well. We WANT to tell the stories of the Jews of Egypt. My father’s grandfather came from Aleppo, another city emptied of its millennia-old Jewish community. His aunt married into a family from Damascus. The whole Arab world denies it has any Jewish past, and yet Jews were an integral part of the Middle Eastern communities for centuries before Islam even existed. So much has been lost. I hope one day we can access the small breadcrumbs that are left and perhaps put some of those names back on the headstones across the region.