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| By Kamal Ghazal |
In the quiet Sri Lanka Street in Zamalek , Cairo’s historic and aristocratic district , old villas hide behind the leafy canopy of lebbakh trees. Among them stands one of the city's most enigmatic and whispered-about houses: the Abu Auf family villa.
From the outside, it looks like a classic remnant of Cairo's golden age. But inside, it tells a very different story — a tale of music, ghosts, and a name that echoes through the walls: Cicurel.
From a Jewish Magnate to a Ghostly Guest
In 1958, renowned Egyptian composer and former army officer Ahmed Shafiq Abu Auf moved with his wife and children into the villa, fulfilling his wife's wish to live in that beautiful old home.
He had no idea that the villa would become the backdrop for a story never written by entertainment journalists — a tale shaped by the family's shadowed memories and uncanny experiences.
Just a few years in, strange things began happening. The children began to see what should not be seen:
A tall man with flowing white hair and bulging eyes, silently passing through the corridors, disappearing behind doors.
No one had an explanation.
Until one night, the father , a rational military man turned composer , witnessed it himself.
While composing music late one evening, he stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water. When he returned, the melody he'd been working on was whistling softly in his ear — not from an instrument, not from a recording… but as if someone unseen was completing it for him.
He ignored the chills and continued to play. But when he went to bed, he saw something no man would easily forget:
A white thread slipped through the bottom of the door, stretching and growing until it formed a face — pale, silent, and watching. The face drifted close to him and nodded slowly, as if to say, “I am here.”
Terrified, he fled the house in his pajamas and took the next train to Alexandria, where his family was staying.
Who Was the Ghost in the Villa ?
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His sister Maha Abu Auf echoed the story, describing the ghost as ever-present but not malicious.
Even famed Egyptian actress Yousra, a guest in the villa for a sleepover, fled barefoot into the street after hearing heavy footsteps approaching her bedroom in the dead of night — footsteps that belonged to no living person.
But as researchers and journalists revisited the past, a puzzling question surfaced:
Was there ever a man named Salvador Cicurel who was murdered in that villa?
A Case of Mistaken Identity: When Memory Plays Tricks
The Cicurel family was indeed real one of Egypt’s most prominent Sephardic Jewish families. Their patriarch, Moreno Cicurel, emigrated from Izmir in the late 19th century and built a department store empire that catered to Egypt’s elite.
He had three notable sons:
- Salomon Cicurel (born 1881) – Leader of Cairo’s Sephardic Jewish community. He was murdered in a robbery at his private villa in Giza in 1927, stabbed by thieves as he tried to resist them.
- Salvator Cicurel – An Olympic athlete and leader in Egypt’s Jewish sports scene. He was never murdered. He lived a long life, left Egypt during the nationalizations of the 1950s, and died peacefully in Paris in 1975.
- Joseph Cicurel – A founding partner of Bank Misr alongside the visionary economist Talaat Harb.
So... Who Was the Ghost?
If the ghost was truly the spirit of a murdered Jewish villa owner, then Salomon Cicurel fits the profile — not Salvator.
But Salomon was killed in a different villa, in Giza, not the Abu Auf residence in Zamalek.
It appears that somewhere along the line, memory and myth merged, and the name "Salvator" (or "Salvador") became the default ghostly identity, perhaps because it was easier to recall, or because Salvator was more prominent in public life as an Olympian.
What began as a real crime in the 1920s evolved into a family ghost story and then into a folk legend, whispered in late-night gatherings and TV interviews.
The Villa of Memory… and Fear
Today, it's listed on several international travel blogs and paranormal forums as one of the “most haunted houses in the Middle East.”
The tales are shared like pages from a mystery novel no one ever finished.
So… was the ghost really Salomon, the stabbed merchant?
Or just a phantom born from nostalgia and fear, haunting an aging villa with fading wallpaper and echoing floorboards ?
We may never know for sure.
But if you ever find yourself wandering Sri Lanka Street in Zamalek at night… and hear a strange melody whistling from behind shuttered windows — don’t stop. Just walk. And don’t look back.
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