Nevine El-Guindy, an Egyptian leadership coach better known as Nivo, used her digital platforms not only to showcase Egypt’s architectural heritage but to reframe it as something livable, relevant, and worth preserving.
Appointed cultural ambassador by former culture minister Ahmed Hanno, among other social media influencers who contribute to promoting Egypt’s cultural identity and heritage online, El-Guindy’s influence lies in the ripple effect she has created by sharing her inspiring project with historic neighbourhoods and the small but meaningful steps toward preservation.
At a time when many Egyptians are searching for homes in newly built suburbs or gated compounds on the edges of Cairo, El-Guindy chose to move in the opposite direction; she returned to her childhood neighbourhood, Heliopolis.
The making of Heliopolis
Heliopolis holds a distinctive place in Cairo’s history as one of the earliest “modern” planned suburbs, developed in the early 20th century as a model of modern living.
Founded by the Belgian industrialist Édouard Empain, Heliopolis Company built the new city in the desert northeast of Cairo.
Heliopolis introduced a new vision of urban life that balanced functionality with aesthetic value. Its wide boulevards, arcaded streets, and eclectic architectural styles, ranging from neo-Moorish to Art Deco, reflected a unique fusion of local and European influences, making the neighbourhood a living archive of a transformative period in Egypt’s modernization.
Heliopolis was a self-contained urban environment, complete with housing, transport links, leisure facilities, and social institutions that encouraged a vibrant public life.
Over time, the district became home to generations of Cairenes, embedding layers of memory and identity within its streets and buildings. Today, its historic value lies not only in its physical fabric but also in its enduring role as a symbol of a more integrated and community-oriented way of life in Cairo.
The tree-lined corridor leading to Nevine El-Guindy’s building in Heliopolis, where her restoration journey began.
Searching for a home in Old Heliopolis
El-Guindy, who has spent many years abroad between Canada and Turkey, decided to return home in 2022.
“I am not someone who sits with a ten-year plan,” she says. “Something inside me pulls me toward a direction, and the road opens as I move.”
At first, that instinct simply led her to walk the streets of Heliopolis, looking for a place to live. Whether rented or owned, El-Guindy knew she wanted to live in an old apartment. She wandered through the neighbourhood asking doormen, porters, and anyone who might know of an available apartment for sale.
Eventually, her search led her to Ibrahim Street, where she found her new location.
Renovating one step at a time
The renovation itself did not begin as an ambitious heritage restoration. It unfolded gradually and almost accidentally.
First, she renovated the apartment. Then something began to bother her. “The flat looked good, but the staircase was in terrible condition,” she said. So she restored the stairs.
Next, she turned to the building entrance. After that came the passageway outside, which had become filled with garbage.
“I kept pressing the district and the sanitation workers until they brought us a waste container,” she said.
The work unfolded incrementally. “It wasn’t a grand plan,” she said. “It just happened step by step.”
What began as a personal effort to improve her immediate surroundings expanded outward slowly to the rest of the building and the street around it.
Sharing the journey online
As the work progressed, El-Guindy began sharing the transformation on Instagram. “I felt people needed a story,” she explained.
“I wanted people to see these (historical) houses from the inside,” she said. “To realize they still exist.” The purpose went beyond aesthetics.
“Without residents returning, restoration will never truly happen,” she said. “Otherwise the area may become a market, even a cleaner one, but it will not be a living neighbourhood.”
Through her posts, Nevine offered an intimate glimpse into her Belgian-style building, characterized by classic early 20th-century architecture featuring high ceilings, spacious layouts, and ornate details. She shared spaces that reflect both heritage and personal character.
From a graceful dining room where a polished round wooden table is set with delicate glassware and porcelain, to a bathroom where ornate mirrors, marble finishes, and soft lighting evoke old-world elegance, to a passage adorned with vintage furniture and decorative details that highlight the apartment’s historic charm, and a cozy kitchen layered with textures, open shelving, and carefully arranged table settings, her photos and videos capture more than interiors. They tell a story of lived-in beauty, continuity, and the quiet revival of a classic Heliopolis home.
Nevine El-Guindy with visitors on her balcony, sharing the story of her home and the revival of Egyptian heritage.
The veranda unfolds as the heart of the home and a central part of her photos and videos, an airy, light-filled space where architecture and atmosphere come together in effortless harmony. Framed by soft arches and overlooking greenery, it carries a distinctly Mediterranean spirit, grounded by intricately patterned tiles that lend nostalgia to the setting.
A long dining table, dressed in layered textiles and surrounded by bentwood chairs, anchors the space. Above, a colourful glass chandelier introduces a playful note, catching the light and echoing the vibrancy of the surrounding plants and carefully chosen objects.
Over time, the apartment has become something of a landmark for visitors exploring the neighbourhood. During the regular heritage walks organized by Heliopolis Heritage, participants often visit her apartment to hear the story of its restoration.
For many, seeing the space in person offers a rare glimpse into what the interiors of Heliopolis’ historical buildings once looked like, and what they can become when residents choose to restore rather than abandon them.
Why residents matter
“Real preservation cannot happen without residents who live there and care about the place,” she said.
Many people moved away from these buildings because they had fallen into poor condition. Others simply lost the motivation to fight for them. El-Guindy chose the opposite path.
At times, the effort became unexpectedly confrontational. She recalls shouting from her bedroom window late at night over noise and disorder in the street, sometimes even calling the police.
“I felt I had to fight for this apartment,” she said.
For her, protecting the space meant insisting on basic order and responsibility.
“What does ‘making a living’ mean?” she asked. “If someone doesn’t pay electricity, water, rent, or taxes, that is theft. Occupying the sidewalk illegally is also theft.”
In her view, the idea of livelihood cannot exist without rules.
“True livelihood has principles and regulations,” she said. “Anything outside that framework becomes exploitation.”
Small acts of change
Despite the challenges, El-Guindy began noticing encouraging signs around the neighbourhood. Individual residents were starting to take initiative.
“One woman shared photos of her apartment,” she said. “It wasn’t a heritage building, just a 1960s block, but she restored the entrance and renovated the building.”
Another resident reopened a balcony that had been sealed shut for a long time. “These individual initiatives are multiplying,” she said. One of the most inspiring examples came from a tenant living next door to her.
The woman had recently signed a lease worth EGP 700,000 over seven years, not an old rent contract. Yet despite not owning the property, she spent money repainting and renovating the building entrance.
“At first I assumed she was the owner,” El-Guindy said. “It never occurred to me that she was renting.” For her, the lesson was clear: commitment to a place does not depend on ownership.
The culture of shared living
Inside her own apartment, El-Guindy also made choices reflecting a broader philosophy about community and family life.
One example was her decision to keep a single bathroom rather than dividing the apartment into multiple private spaces.
“In the past, family culture shaped how we lived,” she said. “There was one bathroom, one car, one television.” Those shared resources forced family members to negotiate and cooperate. “We learned patience,” she said. “We learned to take turns.”
Such everyday compromises created a sense of closeness that she believes modern housing has weakened.
“Now everyone has their own space,” she said. “We have lost the habit of living together.”
The result, she argues, is a more fragmented social life where individual comfort often replaces shared experience.
Nevine El-Guindy’s dining room, where vintage charm and everyday living reflect the spirit of her home.
Confronting the obstacles
As El-Guindy’s personal renovation expanded into a wider interest in the neighbourhood, she began encountering the complex bureaucracy surrounding heritage protection. Her first stop was the local district office.
“There were people there whose job seemed to be discouragement,” she said. “If someone arrived feeling hopeless, they finished the job.”
Officials admitted that violations, illegal construction, modifications, or encroachments were often closed temporarily, only to reopen again. “They would say: we shut them down, but they reopen after paying a fine,” she recalled.
It became clear that enforcement mechanisms were weak and inconsistent. So she began looking further up the administrative chain.
Through professional connections, she secured a meeting with the minister responsible for local development. Around the same time, she contacted architect Mostafa Salem after seeing a video he had produced, which showed his deep interest in preserving heritage and historical areas.
“Corruption works collectively,” she told him. “Reform cannot be done alone.”
By the end of her meeting with the minister, the outlines of a broader plan had begun to appear. Government work would begin in Heliopolis on three streets: Ibrahim, Baghdad, and Ibrahim El-Laqqani.
A structural problem
Through these interactions, El-Guindy says she discovered a deeper structural issue.
Heritage buildings are identified and documented by the National Organization for Urban Harmony under the Ministry of Culture. However, that body does not have the authority to enforce regulations.
Actual enforcement powers are related to district administrations under the Ministry of Local Development.
“You can draft all the plans you want,” she said. “But enforcement comes from the districts.”
A three-part model for revival
Looking ahead, El-Guindy envisions three different approaches to restoring parts of Heliopolis. Some streets could be restored directly by government authorities, others by partnership with private businesses, and a third by civil society initiatives driven by residents, artists, and cultural organizations.
In her project, she collaborated with civil society, and together with collaborators, she has selected the Suleiman–Mamluks passage as a pilot corridor for a civil society-led restoration effort. Architects are now preparing drawings that aim to return the passage to its original appearance.
Funding the effort
El-Guindy describes a three-channel funding model. The first involves artists contributing works to a silent auction that could take place during events such as Cairo Design Week or Art Egypt. The second channel focuses on local businessmen in Heliopolis. The third invites contributions from residents and Egyptians living abroad. The initial phase will focus on documentation and façade restoration.
“The scale of the problem is enormous,” she said. “There are violations inside buildings and in backyards as well.”
Therefore, the project will move gradually depending on available resources.
The wider urban challenge
El-Guindy believes that the spread of street vendors is one of the key challenges affecting the preservation of Heliopolis and Cairo’s public spaces more broadly.
“Street vending is no longer marginal,” she said. “It occupies half the streets in many neighborhoods.”
She argues that the activity has expanded rapidly because it operates outside formal systems and regulation, often generating higher returns without oversight.
At the same time, it places growing pressure on sidewalks and shared urban spaces while undermining regulated businesses.
Her proposal is a multi-ministerial strategy involving development, culture, tourism, transport, electricity, finance, and interior ministries. One idea, for example, is relocating vendors into metro stations underground rather than allowing them to occupy sidewalks.
A long road ahead
“This will take time,” she agrees. However, what gives her hope are the small changes she continues to see: a resident repainting a building entrance, another reopening a balcony, or someone deciding to renovate an old apartment rather than abandoning it.
“These are the signs that matter,” she said.
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