Cairo’s Antique Elevators, Glorious and Glitchy, Are Scenes of Love and Fear

A Schindler elevator inside a Zamalek building in Cairo. (Sima Diab for The New York Times)
A Schindler elevator inside a Zamalek building in Cairo. (Sima Diab for The New York Times)
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Cairo’s Antique Elevators, Glorious and Glitchy, Are Scenes of Love and Fear

A Schindler elevator inside a Zamalek building in Cairo. (Sima Diab for The New York Times)
A Schindler elevator inside a Zamalek building in Cairo. (Sima Diab for The New York Times)

When you live in downtown Cairo, a neighborhood of European-meets-Egyptian facades in various states of faded grandeur, roundabouts whizzing with traffic and storefronts patchworked in riotously mismatched signage, it helps to cultivate a certain tolerance for features like relentless honking, rundown real estate and geriatric elevators.

Hager Mohamed was willing to brave the first two. The last, not so much.

Over a few months living downtown earlier this year, Hager, 28, surrendered to an elevator’s whims more often than necessary for most inhabitants of the 21st century. Partly it was her phobia of antique elevators, with their cabs of gleaming wood and glass suspended from very visible cables in rib cages of metal grillwork; and partly it was the specimen in her apartment building: It went up, but refused to go down without some control-box fiddling. The residents failed to organize maintenance until it stopped working entirely; even once fixed, it would descend only as far as the second floor.

But the building was conveniently located. And, well, she lived on the fifth floor.

“Now we live on the sixth floor in a building with no elevator,” said the sociology Ph.D. student. “It’s exhausting. I only realized the value of that elevator when it was gone.”

In central Cairo, few things are thrown away for good: Consider the ancient monuments and tombs built from the cannibalized parts of even more ancient precursors, or the doddering chairs, patched up with prosthetic limbs, where doormen sit on nearly every sidewalk.

Much the same goes for the city’s antiquated elevators, graceful fin-de-siècle and Art Deco pieces from the era when European architects molded Cairo’s streets, cosmopolitans filled its cafes and the city competed with London and Paris for wealth and glamour. Though some elevators have been replaced with modern machines, dozens, if not hundreds — no precise census exists — have been going up and down the same buildings for decades, in some cases more than a century.

“The fact that they’re still working until now,” said Mohamed Hassan, the head engineer at al-Ismaelia, a developer that rehabilitates aging buildings in downtown Cairo, “it’s a miracle.”

Some elevators’ survival owes to their beauty, landlords prizing them as lobby centerpieces. Other owners lack the means or the will to replace them, thanks in part to a so-called old rent system that governs about a quarter of all Cairo rentals, allowing tenants to pay next to nothing — an average of about $3 per month — for years on end.

The classic old elevator rises through an open shaft in a building’s center, an elaborately wrought metal cage separating it from well-worn marble stairs that wrap around it in a helix all the way up. Mirrors are common, petite leather built-in benches a pleasant surprise.

Most still bear the original brass plaque of their maker (usually out of business), along with safety instructions (often engraved in French) and a five-digit phone number to call in case of difficulties (long since disconnected).

Another feeling people tend to associate with such elevators is that of holding their breath every time one of them lurches upward — not with the isolation-tank noiselessness of a modern elevator but with little vibrations, along with minor bounces at departure and arrival that make it hard not to think about the mechanics of the whole operation.

Understandably, some Cairenes stick to the stairs. Maybe they have heard the horror stories. Still, the rate of disasters appears low.

Before the elevators will move, the rider must close the outer and then the inner doors with meticulous care, a safety feature with some inconvenient side effects.

If someone forgot to close the doors properly, the next rider has to take the stairs; if someone accidentally jostles the doors even a smidgen mid-ride, the elevator freezes.

The elevators have plenty of defenders, and not just for their looks. Their continued existence is a sign of high-quality manufacturing, they say. Get stuck, and you’ll have visibility, fresh air and the option of yelling for help or climbing out yourself.

“What I care about is being able to breathe,” said Hana Abdallah, 68, of the rare occasions when the power goes out mid-ride on one of the two Schindler originals at 1 Mazloum Street, a 1928 neo-Baroque Art Deco building. “What I care about is if the elevator breaks down, someone could bring me a chair — passing it into the cab through the open shaft — and I could just sit there the rest of the day.”

Like many Cairenes who could afford it, the wealthy residents’ heirs moved to the suburban communities that have drained many residents and their wealth from central Cairo. Hana’s husband retired 18 years ago because of ill health, and was not replaced. (These days, only a few buildings employ button-pushers.) Where pashas once ascended, she now uses one elevator shaft to dry out bunches of fresh garlic and onions, on account, she said, of the superior air flow.

One Mazloum Street is lucky to have both elevators still running. Many others sit frozen in disrepair, victims of landlord negligence and tenant squabbles over maintenance fees that sometimes turn so petty that residents who do pay install key-fob systems to condemn nonpayers to the stairs.

The government has begun sprucing up downtown facades, and Hassan’s company, specializes in restoring downtown buildings. But the elevators have outlived most of their manufacturers — Schindler still has a Cairo office, but stopped making parts for antique models years ago — and when serious damage occurs or residents tire of the hassle, some surrender to modern replacements.

New York Times



SpaceX Starship Explodes During Routine Test

Flames rise as a SpaceX rocket explodes in Brownsville, Texas, US, June 18, 2025, in this screengrab obtained from a social media video. TheRocketFuture via X/via REUTERS
Flames rise as a SpaceX rocket explodes in Brownsville, Texas, US, June 18, 2025, in this screengrab obtained from a social media video. TheRocketFuture via X/via REUTERS
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SpaceX Starship Explodes During Routine Test

Flames rise as a SpaceX rocket explodes in Brownsville, Texas, US, June 18, 2025, in this screengrab obtained from a social media video. TheRocketFuture via X/via REUTERS
Flames rise as a SpaceX rocket explodes in Brownsville, Texas, US, June 18, 2025, in this screengrab obtained from a social media video. TheRocketFuture via X/via REUTERS

One of Elon Musk's SpaceX Starships exploded during a routine test late Wednesday in Texas, law enforcement said, in the latest setback to the billionaire's dream of turning humanity into an interplanetary species.

The Starship 36 suffered "catastrophic failure and exploded" at the Starbase launch facility shortly after 11:00 pm (0400 GMT Thursday), a Facebook post by the Cameron County authorities said, according to AFP.

A video shared with the post showed the megarocket attached to the launch arm, and then a flash and a towering, fiery explosion.

Musk's Space X said the rocket was preparing for the tenth flight test when it "experienced a major anomaly while on a test stand at Starbase," without elaborating on the nature of the complication.

"A safety clear area around the site was maintained throughout the operation and all personnel are safe and accounted for," Space X added on social media.

"There are no hazards to residents in surrounding communities, and we ask that individuals do not attempt to approach the area while safing operations continue."

The Starship was not scheduled for launch on Wednesday evening when the explosion occurred during a "routine static fire test," according to the Cameron County authorities.

During a static fire, part of the procedures preceding a launch, the Starship's Super Heavy booster would be anchored to the ground to prevent it from lifting off during the test-firing.

Starbase on the south Texas coast, near the border with Mexico, is the headquarters for Musk's space project.

Standing 403 feet (123 meters) tall, Starship is the world's largest and most powerful rocket and central to Musk's long-term vision of colonizing Mars.

The Starship is billed as a fully reusable rocket with a payload capacity of up to 150 metric tons.

The latest setback follows an explosion of a prototype Starship over the Indian Ocean in late May.

The biggest and most powerful launch vehicle ever built had lifted off on May 27 from the Starbase facility, but the first-stage Super Heavy booster blew up instead of executing its planned splashdown in the Gulf of Mexico.

The previous two outings also ended poorly, with the upper stage disintegrating over the Caribbean.

But the failures will likely do little to dent Musk's spacefaring ambitions.

SpaceX has been betting that its "fail fast, learn fast" ethos, which has helped it dominate commercial spaceflight, will eventually pay off.

The company has caught the Super Heavy booster in the launch tower's giant robotic arms three times -- a daring engineering feat it sees as key to rapid reusability and slashing costs.

NASA is also increasingly reliant on SpaceX, whose Dragon spacecraft is vital for ferrying astronauts to and from the International Space Station.

The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) in early May approved an increase in annual Starship rocket launches from five to 25, stating that the increased frequency would not adversely impact the environment.

The decision overruled objections from conservation groups who had warned the expansion could endanger sea turtles and shorebirds.