Fahd stands in the playground, dressed in a tiny pair of shorts and a t-shirt. With bewitching hazel eyes, he flashes a smile and holds out his favorite toy to a visitor — a paper airplane fashioned by one of his older ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters.’ Just two years old, Fahd already knows how to charm, throwing his arms upward in that universal gesture that says: Pick me up!

He is impossible to resist. Orphaned for nearly his entire life, Fahd now lives in the Awladi orphanage in Maadi, which hosts about 400 boys and girls. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses from a visitor, he places the giant frames over his face and runs off to the swings. Watching him, all the visitor can think of is how he or she wants to buy him his own sunglasses and stuff him full of sweets.

Fahd is one of an estimated 8,300 children nationwide who have lost their parents, according to the 2007 figures of the General Family and Childhood Authority (GFCA), a division of the Ministry of Social Solidarity that supervises the country’s 290 orphanages. About 4,000 orphans live in Cairo, while around 4,000 more are spread across the rest of the country.

As Fahd is being fed chocolate chip cookies by students from the Cairo American College (CAC), his younger ‘siblings’ are held and swung by two young female students. Abir Feriji and Lucy Nehrin, sixth-grade students at the CAC, say they visit the orphanage twice a year on school outings, but that they only get to meet and play with the younger children. Asked whether he meets or makes friends with children his age, the girls’ classmate Youssef El-Maghraby says that he doesn’t, although he would love to because “they’re my same age and we could play together.”

People may feel religiously compelled to help orphans: A popular and widespread hadith (prophetic saying) by Prophet Mohamed (PBUH) says “I, and the one who looks after an orphan, will be together like this in the next world,” after which he raised his index and middle fingers together. Knowing this, people are eager to donate and care for orphans.” But regardless of religious belief, people of all ages find children irresistible and are universally compelled to stretch their hands out to little tykes who have no mommies or daddies. Church congregations visit orphanages to wash babies. Mosques organize outings. Schools raise money to benefit the parentless, and even corporations supply orphanages with the latest furniture, safety devices and learning tools.

While there is significant charitable interest in orphans, what about the practical side of things: What is an orphan’s day-to-day life like? For many people images of Dickensian horror run through their heads at the contemplation of orphanages. But delving deeper into the story, one finds that orphanages are one example of Egypt’s government bureaucracy solidly at work to protect the interests of some of the nation’s most helpless citizens.

Khaled Habib Life in an orphanage is not the dismal experience that some expect it to be.

While the government provides for orphans, and members of society are eager to both finance and host them when they are young, what happens when they come of age? How do they find jobs, win approval for marriage (to say nothing of financing the ceremony) and find homes in a society in which these things are guaranteed not just by personal merits, but also by the support of family?

Answering these questions is complicated. Many orphans grow up to become happy, healthy, productive members of society with families of their own. Some may work as shop attendants; thousands find work in factories and ultimately rise through the ranks of corporate Egypt, while others earn advanced degrees. But it does not mean that it is an easy thing, being an orphan in Egypt.

The stigma attached to the ‘family-less’ appears to be so strong in Egypt that orphans are not exactly lining up to tell their stories.

During the months spent reporting this story, many orphans refused to the use of their last names — that is when they agreed to speak at all. Orphans may be defying some preconceived myths by making their lives a success, but they are also finding that society’s prejudices remain unbending — to the point that they must conceal who they truly are.

Abd El-Moneim Mahmoud’s parents divorced nearly 25 years ago. His father quickly remarried and his mother left their hometown in Upper Egypt (which he prefers not to name) to do the same in Cairo. Mahmoud was left “living in hell” with his father’s new wife, before one day deciding to flee north in search of his mother. Unlike his hometown, he discovered that Cairo was very, very big. He couldn’t simply stop a kindly person on the street and ask to be brought to his mom.

Unable to locate his mother and unwilling to return to his abusive stepmother, 10-year-old Mahmoud was taken to Alexandria’s SOS Children’s Village, a non-governmental organization (NGO). Now a graduate of Ain Shams University’s law program, he earned a master’s degree in law in 1997 and a bachelor of arts in psychology just last year. An activist for orphan’s rights, Mahmoud is preparing to study for his PhD and hopes to obtain a bachelor’s degree in commerce on the side. “The happiest moment of my life was when the [staff at SOS] came and asked me if I wanted to continue with my education,” Mahmoud says with a smile.

Now married with two children, Mahmoud practiced for a time as a lawyer before becoming head of legal affairs at the Egyptian Children’s Villages Organization, an NGO that supervises the Children’s Villages system, and the bedrock of the SOS Villages throughout Egypt. After serving as legal consultant for the Middle East and North Africa office of the International Children’s Villages Organization, he went on to become head of the SOS Village in Alexandria. Today, he runs the program’s operations in Tanta.

“I went through the SOS experience from a child to a young man, then from a young employee to a senior one, and I hope I can give back a part of what they gave me,” he says.

Although Mahmoud stands out among his peers, he is not the only one setting a good example. May lost her parents to an accident 15 years ago. Less than a year later, her grandmother died in a fire that left her without shelter or a guardian at just four years old. May was still a toddler with a painful past and a dim future when she was taken in by Shadia El-Sheshiny, a member of the board of Egypt’s Association for Women and Children’s Protection and former director-general of the Juvenile Care Department at the Ministry of the Interior. Sixteen years later, May is a bright young lady dressed in a crisp, clean shirt and skirt with an engagement ring on her right hand. When we first meet, she’s on her way to a tutoring session with her arms full of books. After her final exams, May will have her hands full arranging her wedding and going to endless fittings for her specially designed gown.

Khaled Habib Although facilities vary between orphanages, the kids of Alwadi have the added bonus of a new playground, paid for by Alwadi’s sponsors.

While some, like May, will settle down and raise a family, other orphans, like 23-year-old Eman, chose to follow a career. Currently finishing off her bachelor’s degree in social studies, Eman says her plans include a master’s degree and then a PhD in the same field. She draws and plays the piano when she isn’t studying or looking after her younger ‘sisters’ to make sure they are taken care of properly, and stay well behaved and praying regularly.

Ranging from single-buildings with five-bed open wards to spacious, multi-building complexes with playgrounds or villas hosting small ‘families’ and sports courts, the orphanages listed had a common feel: They are joyous on the outside with children playing, laughing and smiling. The heartbreak comes with a second glance; the realization that the orphan who has been following you around all day is longing for compassion — for the love and undivided attention of an adult.

Growing up without the undivided attention parents give their children has an impact, even though the orphanages visited during this story invest significant effort in psychological and social work to make sure orphans can cope with society and its dim view of their situation. The problem is that there is only so much a small group of people can do to change the attitude of an entire society.

Tackling the orphans’ issues early on is a goal, with an eye for preventing later ones, says Rasha Zaki, board member at Awladi. Vice president and consultant psychologist Samiha Bahgat agrees, explaining that children’s psyches are very fragile and the early years can affect the child’s mental wellbeing for the rest of their life.

Khamed Habib Cairo American College students are required to spend time with orphans as part of a school course.

“We asked to get them when they are newly born because before we felt that there is a missing period in [older] kids’ lives [who had not been receiving] the necessary care to be prepared for their next stage in life, which is crucial,” says Bahgat, explaining that Awladi tries to give the orphans as much love and care as they can in the early days, as affection at that point is crucial for the children’s development. They are also placed in school as early as possible to develop their intelligence and social capabilities.

Heba Saad, a psychologist at Dar Ahmed, an orphanage in Mokatam that is home to 65 children, explains that the orphans first have to live through the painful experience of losing their parents and then rehash it as they learn the truth of their orphan status and how it affects their place in society. “In short, they grow up fast,” says Saad.

Ebtehag Abd El-Kader, head of the GFCA (see “Orphanage Basics” below), explains that up until 20 years ago, associations were few and orphanages were guided solely by each charity’s ability to fund programs. The key, he says, is that Egypt has moved from a framework under which orphanages were seen as charities to one in which the state sees itself as responsible for guaranteeing the basic rights of each child.

Hoda and Hend — both 23 years old and like May and Fahd, residents of Awladi — are studying computer science and aspire to continue postgraduate studies. While Eman, Hend and Hoda, in their 20s, can still find shelter in the place where they grew up, their male colleagues are forced to face the real world and try to make a living when they turn 18.

Emad Khalifa, 21, speaks comfortably and confidently of his life after the orphanage, with no hint of doubt or concern that he is different from anyone else. Khalifa is working as an assistant technician at El-Sewedy Cables, one of Egypt’s largest private-sector companies. El-Sewedy runs a weekend-and-summer camp for children, donates widely to orphan activities and directly funds an orphanage of its own. Today, Khalifa has what he says is a good basic salary, a generous bonus package and a flat of his own into which he hopes his fiancée will move once they marry. “I am much better off than many people,” he smiles.

Less than a year ago, both boys and girls had to leave orphanages when they turned 18 — no exceptions. While this situation is still considered acceptable for the boys, lawmakers have made an exception for the girls. “Girls in this society can’t just go off living alone as single girls,” says Bahgat.

Laila Barakat, chairwoman of the New Woman’s Association’s Board, agrees with changing the old rule. “I think this is totally wrong because you can’t just leave the girl in this difficult life without protection; anything can happen,” she says. Many stories are told about girls who return to their orphanage asking for help, carrying the burden of being an illegitimate child with a ruined future after having left the protection and the shelter of the orphanage.

Last year, Minister of Social Solidarity Ali El-Moselhi ordered that women could stay in orphanages until they marry. Boys, however, must leave when they turn 18 or complete their education — whichever comes first. It is not as tough as it sounds, though.

“The association is responsible for providing him with accommodation and a job,” says Abd El-Kader. Some associations help by financing the young mens’ flats, whether in the form of a down payment or purchasing the flat outright. The orphanage also cashes out a savings account the state establishes in the boys name upon admittance to the orphanage, including savings donated by wealthy patrons, so that he has a nest egg with which to get started.

Fawzeya Hussein, head of the Surrogate Care Department at the GFCA believes that keeping a flexible age limit is better. If the age was set strictly at 21, for instance, he says it would encourage laziness and dependency as the boy could already have graduated from university, but remain reliant on the organization. This would allow him to delay looking for work or providing for himself.

“And if they have finished their education but want to do a masters and they are older than 18, why make them leave? Then they would help [other orphans] because they would set a good example for them,” says Hussein.

Dar Ahmed orphanage receives monthly visits from successful orphans who have managed to develop a career, Saad says. The orphanages ‘alumni’ come and talk to the kids and “serve as role models,” she says, letting them know they have a chance and that they can and do become successful citizens.

Aside from public education, children at Awladi can also be trained in a technical trade to help build their futures. “We try as much as we can to prepare them for various life options and establish themselves to be the best they can be,” says Bahgat.

Most end up joining technical schools. Of the over 1,800 recognized orphans in Egypt above the age of 15, including 695 over the age of 18, only 262 have received higher education, with the rest receiving technical education.

It is not easy to provide private tutoring though, a staple for successful results in Egypt’s current educational system. While many ‘normal’ students do benefit from private tutorship thanks to teachers availability to tutor in the afternoons and evenings for a fee, such lessons are a near impossible luxury for most orphans. The children end up with lower grades that will only give them access to technical, beauty or nursing schools.

Despite these limitations, most orphans find it relatively easy to secure work due to the patronage of leading members of the business community. Olympic Group sponsors Dar Ahmed for example, while El Sewedy Institute for Orphan Care is sponsored by El-Sewedy Group itself. The orphanages also play a role in job matching — during the summer after graduation, orphanages help the orphans find summer internships or job opportunities through a network of volunteer contacts.

Sponsoring businesses hire young adults leaving orphanages or call on their contacts to arrange jobs with other companies. Young men tend to find work in manufacturing or other industries, while girls often secure work in the personal care industry or as nurses. Both sexes tend to do well in the tourism sector. Zaki also says that the girls are able to support themselves even before “graduation” from the orphanage by selling their embroidery and tricot work for a little extra spending money and savings for their marriage.

Eman El-Mansoury, head of Dar El Orman Heliopolis, an NGO with branches all over Egypt, explains that Dar El Orman has no difficulty in providing job opportunities. The organization, responsible for finding surrogate families for orphans as well as providing an orphanage for children with regular and special needs, hosts 200 children overall and has to date found families for 1,600 others that have come to their door. “We have many businessmen who invest in the association so our kids will surely have work opportunities matching their specialization,” says El Mansoury.

Orphans interact with friends at the orphanage, but trips outside the premises occur only once or twice a month at best. The orphans generally have a chance to go on summer trips to camps and resorts, organized by the orphanage, the Ministry of Social Solidarity or volunteers.

To finally find themselves alone and outside the familiarity of the orphanage can be bewildering, and there is no real system designed to ease their ‘re-entry’ into society. As a result the adjustment to life outside is not always smooth. From the rather sheltered life inside their orphanage, children must face almost overnight the social stigma they received at birth.

While most orphans realize they are somehow different from other children in society, for most, this difference does not seem to create social barriers. Many enjoy friendship groups and normal lifestyles, although the majority prefer not to mention they are orphans.

“Of course I have to go out and see people and meet new friends. I can’t be introverted or stick to the sisters I have in here only. Each person has something to offer and you need to learn from all, outside the home and inside it, you learn how to deal with everyone and all types,” says Eman.

Hend cracks a wide smile when talking about her friends. “I love going out and going shopping or to the movies. I go out once or twice a month and in summers we go to the beach and on trips.”

To help smoothly integrate them into society, many associations will move the girls to a ‘youth home’ where they are still under the orphanage’s supervision but interact with other students living in the home. Barakat explains that as they graduate from college, the girls have to move to the association’s dorms to interact with the students there and “make friendships and lead a normal life outside the association.” Hoda explains that she had issues dealing with people at first when she left school, where most students were orphans like her. “Here it is somehow closed so at first you’re shocked,” she says, “and you begin seeing different types of people.”

Whether from overt acts of kindness, help or sheer awkwardness, orphans feel instinctively from a young age that society looks at them differently, and pity is something the orphans resent.

Hoda explains that she will not tell everyone she is an orphan because the first reaction is pity. She is clearly upset as she explains how people react to her situation and their belief that she cannot take care of herself. “Until you prove yourself and they see who you really are, then it changes,” she says with determination. “We don’t feel different, we don’t think about it, but people do until they come here and visit us and see our true colors.”

Despite people’s best intentions, too much charity is not necessarily a good thing, child-rights advocates say. Camillia El-Araby, director of Ahbab Allah’s orphanage based in Maadi, host to 300 boys and girls, hits a sensitive nerve: In attempting to make up for the loss they suffered, people often over-pamper orphans.

El-Araby explains that when people take the orphans out for a while, they sometimes shower them with gifts and cater to their every command. “If a boy goes out to visit a family [] the family hosting him makes him live for two or three hours as a prince and cater to his every demand, and that is wrong,” she says. When the children return to their orphanage, they think this is the way other children live.

Mahmoud agrees, explaining that on the one hand, pampering an orphan or not scolding him if he does something wrong due to feelings of pity negatively affects the child’s psychological wellbeing. On the other, looking down on orphans can scar the child for life. “The problem is the feeling, society’s pained look and its questioning of whether or not the child is illegitimate. This is a cruel feeling. The environment or the extra care and extra sympathy the child gets [] makes him feel different,” he says.

While little Fahd may grow up in a loving home, get pampered by strangers and receive a decent education, when the time comes for him to leave the orphanage, the flat and job he will receive may not be much of a consolation. Giving away money or time is by no means equal to accepting him into society. Despite Egypt’s best intentions, in a country where family is everything, orphans are still left on the fringes. et

Orphanages in Egypt are not restricted to children whose parents have died. The term orphan is also used to include three other categories: children with unknown origins (usually born outside wedlock and accounting for the largest percentage), lost children and the children of prisoners. Some orphanages are unisex because they do not have the facilities to separate orphans at age 12 as required by law, while others accept both sexes and send male children out to another orphanage when they become teenagers.

Although the quality of orphanages differs widely, they are all controlled by minimum standards and the General Family and Childhood Authority (GFCA) supervise the children’s legal rights. All orphanages are regulated by the Ministry of Social Solidarity. Child protection falls under the Ministry of Interior.

Most orphans marry other orphans to avoid having to face the bride or groom’s family. Even when orphans are up-front about their status, they are often asked whether they are legitimate or illegitimate, where they are originally from and what their parents did — questions the majority of orphans do not want, or cannot answer.

When a match is made, though, the ever-important issue of money can prove to be less of a barrier for orphans. Had they been raised in a lower-middle class family, which is the average background of orphans in most cases, the marriage would have been financed by their parents, who in many cases would not be able to afford the fee for the ma’azoun (marriage official), let alone a flat with furniture and the dowry.

One popular trend is people financing an orphan bride or groom; as the wedding bells ring, help seems to show up out of the blue. “The bride has to be prepared with all the electronics, bed sheets and furniture. They get the works, even the washing machines and everything,” says Shadia El-Sheshiny, a member of the board of Egypt’s Association for Women and Children’s Protection and former director-general of the Juvenile Care Department at the Ministry of Interior.

Although it is difficult for a girl to get married without a father to walk her down to the aisle, or a mother to fix her veil — or on the man’s side, to propose to the bride’s family — what they lack in one they make up for in many, through all the caretakers the orphans have. El-Sheshiny explains that before the association agrees on a groom for one of their girls, he must come to the orphanage and propose with his parents to ensure that the family knows he is marrying an orphaned girl. The goal is to avoid any issues that may arise in the future.

The orphanage supervisor sits down with the potential husband to question him and even goes over to the future home to ensure that the living conditions are acceptable. The groom-to-be also has to obtain the dowry and wedding ring the girl asks for.

While at the orphanage for this story, a suitor came in, sat down with the association’s supervisor and a beautifully made-up young lady, dressed to the nines with gold jewelry. The supervisor asked him where they would live, the elements of the dowry, his background and all the other possible questions on the list. If the young couple passes the test, they may wed.

Come the big day, the whole orphanage celebrates. While most will not hold individual weddings, many do host group weddings with volunteer caterers and DJs. “When the wedding is over the supervisors have to accompany the bride in her zaffa [traditional festivity to open the wedding] to her husband’s house and we make sure we make a lot of noise, honks and drum beats so that the neighborhood knows the bride has a family when they see how she is followed by at least five cars and trays and pots of all the goodies. It gives her status and this is extremely important in this class,” adds El-Sheshiny. If the orphanage cannot afford these celebrations, orphans have the option of utilizing one of the government’s mass weddings — held for those who cannot finance their own.

After the young bride leaves, the orphanage will usually maintain ties with the girl by providing her with monthly supply packages and holding her baby’s sobou’ (cultural ceremony for newborns). They sometimes even send girls to help her out during her pregnancy or when she gives birth. In specific cases like divorce, many orphanages keep their doors open but this is by no means the norm.

Adoption is an option often forgotten in Egypt. Although legal and encouraged by many organizations such as Dar El Orman, it is not widely practiced. Shariah law allows adoption, but there are some complications as a child that has not been breastfed by the mother is not considered a family member. This means that female family members are meant to cover in front of him when he when he comes of age. Apart from these restrictions, an adopted orphan is allowed to live in the family normally.

To be able to adopt, an applicant couple has to prove their ability to secure a decent living in a stable family, both financially and socially. The applicant must apply to the GFCA, which refers the matter to its Surrogate Care Department. On the other side, an orphanage like Dar El Orman, which has arranged for the adoption of 1,600 children, contacts the governmental authorities to match the baby with a surrogate family. Babies are often found by policemen, hospital workers or individuals and either reported to the proper authorities or given to an orphanage that would then report them to the authorities for registration.

When the surrogate family is approved, they receive the baby in a matter of weeks. Because in Shariah an adopted child may not inherit from his adoptive parents, the law stipulates that the child does not take their family name; although many families would change the name anyway or would write properties or deposits in the name of the adopted child to ensure his future.