In 1517, the Ottoman Turks conquered Egypt from the Mamluks, themselves having overthrown the Ayyubids about three centuries prior. The Ottomans remained in power but suffered a gradual decline in authority, brought to a head when Muhammad Ali formalized autonomy within the empire in the early 19th century. What all of these various rulers of Egypt had in common is that none of them were ethnically Egyptian or even Arab. So, when Ali's dynasty worked on modernizing the land and turning it into a European-style nation, the khedive rulers championed removing the age-old formalized disenfranchisement of the locals.
Enter Ahmed Urabi, an Egyptian coming from the common villages into political power, rising through the military ranks into government office on a wave of resisting foreign influence. "Foreign" here meaning less Ottoman, since the Sultan couldn't seem to be bothered, but rather France and Britain, to whom Egypt found itself indebted in its efforts towards modernity, notably the recently-completed Suez Canal. So when Urabi's movement erupted into open revolt, it was British troops they were fighting against, sparking the interest of the international community.
That's all to say that when residents on the rough-and-tumble outskirts of New Orleans were fighting back against centralized control – attempts at regulating their slaughterhouses as well as the sometimes-illegal after-hour entertainment of those workers – the residents found inspiration via their newspaper in the exploits of Ahmed Urabi (although the American journalists at the time were calling him Arabi Pasha).
Things didn't end terribly for Urabi. Sure, his revolt was defeated and he was banished to Sri Lanka. But it was only temporary, since his aims of Egyptian sovereignty were soon realized anyway, and he was able to live out the rest of his life in newly-independent Egypt.
And this is how a small Louisiana industrial community came to be named most unusually after an Egyptian national hero.
Next on my recurring fascination with unusual place names comes the small New Orleans satellite community of Arabi.
In 1517, the Ottoman Turks conquered Egypt from the Mamluks, themselves having overthrown the Ayyubids about three centuries prior. The Ottomans remained in power but suffered a gradual decline in authority, brought to a head when Muhammad Ali formalized autonomy within the empire in the early 19th century. What all of these various rulers of Egypt had in common is that none of them were ethnically Egyptian or even Arab. So, when Ali's dynasty worked on modernizing the land and turning it into a European-style nation, the khedive rulers championed removing the age-old formalized disenfranchisement of the locals.
Enter Ahmed Urabi, an Egyptian coming from the common villages into political power, rising through the military ranks into government office on a wave of resisting foreign influence. "Foreign" here meaning less Ottoman, since the Sultan couldn't seem to be bothered, but rather France and Britain, to whom Egypt found itself indebted in its efforts towards modernity, notably the recently-completed Suez Canal. So when Urabi's movement erupted into open revolt, it was British troops they were fighting against, sparking the interest of the international community.
That's all to say that when residents on the rough-and-tumble outskirts of New Orleans were fighting back against centralized control – attempts at regulating their slaughterhouses as well as the sometimes-illegal after-hour entertainment of those workers – the residents found inspiration via their newspaper in the exploits of Ahmed Urabi (although the American journalists at the time were calling him Arabi Pasha).
Things didn't end terribly for Urabi. Sure, his revolt was defeated and he was banished to Sri Lanka. But it was only temporary, since his aims of Egyptian sovereignty were soon realized anyway, and he was able to live out the rest of his life in newly-independent Egypt.
And this is how a small Louisiana industrial community came to be named most unusually after an Egyptian national hero.