A Passion for Healing

1 Beginnings

The infant given the name of Kamal Mansour found his cradle in the very cradle of civilization.
He was born into the oldest of nations—the land of Moses and the Pharaohs—yet a country in the midst of modern tumult and change. In 1929, Egypt was an ancient culture but an infant republic. He cavorted in the streets and fields like any child, unconscious of the history being forged all around him. The world of those who cared for him was a multicultural one, a place of clashing languages and ideas and sometimes wills. Kamal Mansour’s destiny was an international one, and his mission was one of humanity, compassion, and faith.
Toward the end of the nineteenth century, Egypt had been under the yoke of the hated Turks for nearly three centuries. In 1798, Napoleon’s French forces briefly took charge. But the Ottoman Turks would rule, at least nominally, until their empire faded and the day of the British came. The Suez Canal was a strategic prize that made Egypt a goal worth contention. But among the people, each new generation expressed a deeper weariness with foreign controllers. Everyone knew the proud history of this nation—why must one foreign force after another intrude on Egypt and its freedom? Why should Europe decide the affairs of Africa?
In 1879, the first Egyptian nationalist groups began to organize. They spread their ideas of opposition to European interference, and their numbers grew. In 1919, as the world sought to recover itself from the First World War, Egypt’s first modern revolution finally ensured a new day. The British, equally weary of the struggle, issued a full declaration of Egyptian independence in 1922.
It was into such a climate of international tension and transition that Kamal Mansour was born, in the seventh year of independence. His birthplace was Cairo, the nation’s capital. His countrymen were proud and liberated, though the British presence and influence was still all around them, and not always unwelcome.
Young Kamal was a bright and eager child, but an ordinary one. At the age of five he made his entrance into the world of learning at Tewfik Primary School and Tewfik Secondary School, not far from home.
Cairo, as the largest city in the Middle East, was a traditional seat of culture and ancient wisdom. So essential is this capital city that Egyptians often refer to Cairo as Maşr, the Arabic name for Egypt itself. Yet Cairo’s own name means defeater or vanquisher, suggesting the pride and confidence of the ancient civilization. Echoes of this self-regard would be found in Kamal’s two names, meaning perfection and triumphant. He began life as a positive child with a ravenous appetite for learning and a determined destiny, if not any real love of school itself.
To observe the accomplishments of this doctor, one would think he embraced his schooling with tremendous affection. Instead, he liked a day in the classroom no more than any little boy. “I was a naughty fellow,” he would recall with a smile.
There were nice memories, however. In that part of the world, it was customary to have a doorkeeper at every entrance. Kamal would recall riding on the broad shoulders of the doorkeeper to his classroom many mornings. He was a child who felt the love and endearments of the adults in his world. The classroom may have been stifling and limiting to an energetic boy, but the world was a wonderful place, filled with surprises. All the while, he was learning and growing more than he knew. The foundations for his character and accomplishments were being laid slowly but surely.
At home, he was pampered and indulged, though not to the detriment of his training. He could sense that his parents thought him the brightest light among his siblings, and they treated him accordingly. So he was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Kamal was curious, fun-loving, and strong-willed, by nature and by nurture. At a predictable juncture, his outgoing character carried him in at least one questionable direction. His parents and teachers couldn’t have been happy about his selection of companions. Soon he found himself roaming the streets with a group of troublemakers and hooligans. And because leadership exerts itself in any setting, he soon rose to the head of the gang. The time would come when he would realize what could be accomplished with a charismatic personality in a more positive environment, but for now he possessed the foolishness of all youth.
In the sunny city, Kamal spent as little time indoors as he could. The city streets were his domain, and he was constantly organizing new games of every kind. One sport consisted of drawing a great circle in the street and assigning “countries” inside its perimeter. The ball would be placed at the center. Children, representing the countries, would battle each other just as true national powers would do. The ball, of course, was the prize, the pot of gold. In this way, children rehearsed the adult roles some would play as soldiers, and the chaotic hostilities of nation against nation, creed against creed. On past sunset the games would proceed until the neighbors complained. Kamal fought with as much ferocity as anyone. The time would come, of course, when he would see the world and its international relationships with different eyes.
As he came home, exhausted, he entered a household including three brothers and four sisters, making eight in all. Kamal was almost precisely in the middle, with four older siblings and three younger. His father was a government official in the telecommunications division who had married a woman of property—Kamal’s mother had inherited a certain amount of real estate, so precious in this part of the world, from her father. So the family was upper middle class with the comfort and privilege that life afforded.
Family life with eight children can be nothing other than raucous. Add in a large supporting cast of cousins and extended family, and it becomes clear that Kamal’s world was neither quiet nor contemplative during his formative years. During that era and in that place, families were larger and bonds were tighter. Many lessons of cooperation and support were learned on a daily basis. Outdoors he could compete and become the king of games; indoors he must learn the demands of obedience to his parents and sharing among his siblings.
Mounira Gabriel, his mother, was a generous and affectionate woman, a prototypical mother. She herself had been an only child, a rarity in those days, and she enjoyed a full house of children and relatives, with plenty of love to go around even as Kamal suspected he was a favorite. He would remember what it meant when she bought him his first Arrow shirt and his first Parker calligraphy pen. These were items of status and prestige, and he knew that his mother would deny him no good thing. Even so, he understood that he was a pampered child, and thus the favor of his parents was a treasure that should never be squandered.
As for his father, Akhnoukh Mansour was marked by kindness and a quick mind. At the earliest possible time his father sat down with him to teach him the fundamentals of mathematics. Later, as Kamal would find himself restless in the classroom, he could still lean upon the training he’d received at home. Sometimes his education proceeded without him knowing about it, as his father explained the facts of the world and how it worked.