The Tumultuous History of Egypt’s Om Ali

My relationship with Om Ali began in my hometown of Alexandria, sometime in 2012. That year, my friend Sherif had just shown everyone in class a video about the world ending that month—something to do with a foretold Mayan prophecy. Not long after, we were sent home early from school, told to stay inside because of reports of an incoming storm. The internet had flatlined—short-circuited by the storm, they said.

Rumors spread like wildfire on the school bus. Tornadoes tearing through Agami. The sea swallowing the beachfront cafés in Roshdy. Rain pushing wild animals out of the desert and onto the streets of Sidi Bishr. Of course, It never really mattered if any of it was true. The truth, after all, was not ours to claim, nor were we ever really interested in it. But we understood the task. Too young to be rational, but just old enough to realize that spreading misinformation to each other on a bus in the middle of a storm holds a thrill no truth can ever match.

By the time I got home, the rain had stopped, and the house was eerily quiet. The only sound was Gedo’s old Toshiba CRT TV, flickering on with a rerun of Abas El Abyad Fel Youm El Eswed. It seemed the Mayans had miscalculated.

Yehia El Fakharani’s face filled the screen, a large bowl of Om Ali cradled in his hands as he gathered his on-screen family to tell the story behind the dish. I was transfixed, hanging on every word as the El Keif actor shifted his gaze from Magda Zaki to Nihal Anbar, enlightening them with the history of Om Ali. There was something almost sacred in the way he spoke of it.

It felt as though my skin was ready to peel away, revealing a wandering shepherd from ancient Greece listening to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave for the first time while grazing his flock in fading light. Yehia El Fakharani, through his tale of Om Ali, was leading me toward the light.

Now, legend has it that there are countless versions of this story, but they all share a few key ingredients:

- Bloodshed

- Treachery

- War

- Death

- Power struggles

The most popular version dates back to the 1240s and involves Shagaret El Dorr, Egypt’s only woman ruler. After the death of her husband, Sultan As-Salih Ayyub, Shagaret El Dorr feared Egypt would become an easy target for Louis IX of France and the Crusaders. A leaderless country was an open invitation. So, with the help of Egypt’s army commander and the palace’s chief eunuch, she kept her husband’s death a secret, quietly sending his body by boat to Rudah Island in the Nile. No royal funeral, no grand announcements—just a discreet burial and an elaborate charade of business as usual.

But secrets never last long. The Crusaders soon caught wind of Sultan Ayyub’s death and launched an attack. Shagaret El Dorr’s army, however, was prepared and trapped them before they could gain the upper hand.

To solidify her rule, Shagaret El Dorr declared herself al-Malikah Ismat al-Din Umm Khalil, taking on titles like "Queen of the Muslims" and "Mother of al-Malik al-Mansur Khalil." Her name echoed in Friday prayers, but despite her efforts, the men of the country rebelled. The throne slipped from her grasp.

Enter Ezz El Din Aybak, who seized power as Egypt’s first Mamluk sultan. Shagaret El Dorr, unwilling to fade into obscurity, married him to secure her influence. Along the way, she ensured his other wife would never see him again. And who was that other wife, you ask? You guessed it—Om Ali.

Things spiraled when Shagaret El Dorr discovered Aybak’s plans to marry yet another woman. She acted swiftly, making sure he wouldn’t be around to follow through. But her scheme unraveled when a few nosy maids exposed the truth.

In the end, Om Ali had the last word. Shagaret El Dorr was beaten to death with slippers by her bondmaids in the hammam, and to celebrate her rival’s demise, Om Ali created the dish that would bear her name.

Seven centuries later, Yehia El Fakharani would cradle that very dish on Dream TV, recounting its bloody origins with the same reverence that had me transfixed all those years ago.