Uncle Elie owned the largest scrap iron business, in Alexandria, Egypt. His father Abramino Dahan had started it, after emigrating from Algeria, at an early age. My uncle was Jewish with French citizenship, but in his heart, and demeanor, he was an Egyptian. Arabic was his mother tongue. He was King Farouk's look-alike; handsome faced, of noticeable corpulence, wearing a fez. His shrewdness made up for his limited education and lack of intellect; and so he was a successful businessman who by the end of World War II had multiplied a fortune. He was a workaholic and/or a womanizer, with prolonged absences from home, which he made up to Vicky, his wife (my mother's sister), with gifts of precious gems. When in 1955, I returned to Egypt to visit the family, I discussed with my cousin Danny, getting out of Egypt, because the future was so bleak, for the Jews. Uncle Elie was upset with me, about these talks, with his son. -"We were born in Egypt. It is our home. Let those who want to leave, leave. Egypt is our country, my son belongs here, with me! We will never leave!" He never did.
After the Suez War, all French, British subject and stateless Jews were given sudden notice of expulsion. That brought unto uncle Elie, a massive stroke that left him totally paralyzed. He died a few months later. Vicky in the meantime tended the business as best she could. A government representative came in to see her, one-day. '- "Mrs. Dahan, the Government has plans to build a road that will pass right through your warehouse, so we need you to vacate. Remove everything, within ten days." - How could such a massive and heavy scrap metal inventory, be quickly moved from a long established business; an inventory containing the likes of submarines from World War II ? And, he added -"if anything is left on the premises, you will be severely penalized! You are being warned!" Having said that, he departed.
The next day there was a surprise follow up visit, by someone else. News had traveled instantly... - "I hear that you are selling, I'm buying. This is what I am paying. ---" . –" Impossible! How can you offer such a pittance? Come on, please be fair!" pleaded Vicky. "Ya set", (lady) we both know that you are not in a bargaining position. Take it or leave it! And so the family business was sold. By law, the employees had to be remunerated for their years of employment (some had worked there all, their life), and so my rich aunt was left with "Walla haga" Nothing.
Vicky, left Egypt penniless, leaving behind, all her worldly possessions her elegant villa, richly furnished with Persian carpets and precious antiques, about ten apartment buildings and she was forbidden to take jewelry or valuables. In Venezuela, Danny died in a car accident, and Vicky made a living, reading Tarot cards. Until her death from cancer, Vicky had been paying a lawyer in Egypt to try to recuperate even a fraction of her wealth, which she never did. Poor Tante Vicky!