Originally published on Global Voices

Khaled Khella, used with permission from the author.

In Egypt’s bustling independent film scene, Khaled Khella has emerged as a daring voice unafraid to lay bare the unspoken struggles of his generation. Born in 1992 in Helwan, an industrial district south of Cairo, Khella’s cinematic journey began with a simple mission: to capture the unseen realities of youth navigating a society marked by contradictions, suppressed desires, and fragile dreams.

Khella’s passion for filmmaking ignited early. “I started making videos on social media. Even in high school, my friends knew me for this hobby and counted on me to share their ideas. I felt a responsibility to develop myself and be worthy of that trust,” he says. This commitment would later evolve into a body of work that combines artistic audacity with an almost brutal honesty.

Khaled Khella, used with permission from the author.

A three-minute debut that traveled the world

Khella’s first brush with international recognition came through his short film “Dunya wa Akhira” (“Life and the Afterlife”), a modest three-minute piece tackling the timeless struggle between moral conscience and worldly temptations. In the film, a young man faces a stark choice: chase a thief who stole his phone or respond to the call to prayer from the mosque.

Despite its brevity, the film resonated widely. It screened at festivals across Australia, Brazil, Italy, the Netherlands, and Greece. “That was the first time I traveled outside Egypt. It became a point of pride for my friends back home. It’s just three minutes long, but it carried so much meaning,” Khella recalls.

Power, fear, and life behind closed doors

Following this early success, Khella turned his lens to more intimate terrains. In “The Landlord,” he explored harassment by a person in power within the confines of a cramped apartment building — a psychological drama that mirrored countless unspoken stories in Egypt’s urban neighborhoods.

“I wanted to show how abuse of power creates deep psychological conflicts, but I didn’t want the landlord to be a simple villain. I directed him as a layered character struggling internally,” Khella explains. With actress Hagar El Sarrag’s gripping performance, he created a tense atmosphere that invited viewers to reflect on their own rights to safety and dignity in their homes.

‘Egyptian Misery’: Shouting what society prefers to whisper

‘Egyptian Misery’ film poster, used with permission from the author.

It was “Egyptian Misery,” however, that cemented Khella’s reputation as a filmmaker willing to cross red lines. Produced in 2017 on a shoestring budget of about 3,000 Egyptian pounds (roughly USD 175 at the time), the film painted raw portraits of eight young Egyptians grappling with invisible wounds.

“The film is a cry from youth living in a complicated reality. As someone from Helwan, I’ve seen many social classes up close. I wanted to depict youth from across these layers — from a university graduate forced into party planning work, to someone who broke his leg just to avoid military service,” Khella says.

The stories emerged from real confessions sent anonymously to a Facebook page called “Egyptian Misery.” Khella sifted through 30 narratives before selecting four that revealed individuals society often labels troublemakers — people dismissed or ridiculed without any understanding of the harm that shaped them.

Among these were startling stories: a bread seller repeating the haunting line, “As long as you are useless, no one will exploit you;” a young man who has sex with a teddy bear; someone who discovers the Lebanese girl he fell for online was actually his friend playing a cruel prank. “These characters try to justify continuing with life. If they truly grasped how broken they were, they might not be able to go on,” Khella reflects.

Rejecting polished performances, he deliberately cast non-professional actors through an open call on his Facebook page. “I wanted people who had never acted before, to keep the reactions shy and honest — just like the stories.”

Reactions were predictably mixed. Some viewers saw reflections of themselves or people they knew. Others were disturbed. “A few rejected the film outright, but no one doubted the stories were real,” Khella notes. “It was important for me to give voice to people who can’t express themselves, regardless of whether it would change anything in society.”

When asked if the suffering he portrays might ever end, Khella answers with disarming realism: “It won’t. Because most of these people don’t even see they have a problem. They’re at peace with their situations.”

The struggles of staying independent

Film poster: ‘130km to Heaven,’ used with permission from the author.

Like many independent Egyptian directors, Khella faced logistical battles. Filming permits for street scenes often meant grappling with security authorities. “That’s a challenge for any indie filmmaker here. Plus, convincing a whole team to work for free is no small feat,” he says. Yet he found a way, driven by a belief that raw stories deserved the spotlight, no matter the obstacles.

Khella continued his streak of bold storytelling. In 2015, he directed “130 km to Heaven,” where he examined the dreams and delusions of two friends who travel from their hometown to a major tourist city, chasing money and fleeting pleasures. The film touched on the quiet desperation of youth eager for a better life, screening at festivals including the Beirut International Film Festival.

In 2023, with “Public Indecency,” a film about a young couple wandering Cairo in search of a private space to share intimacy, only to be chased by strangers determined to police their presence. The film, starring Tharaa Joubail and Ibrahim Al-Naggary, won second prize for its screenplay at a workshop held during the first El Gouna Film Festival, later streaming on Viu.

For Khella, cinema remains less a career than a moral calling. “I’m not after profit. I just want to screen these films and start conversations. Anything I write is either something I’ve felt deeply or something that happened to someone close to me,” he says.

He dreams of a future where independent films can reach wider audiences and ignite real dialogue.

“I believe art is a powerful tool for change. In my next projects, I want to keep raising urgent social issues. I hope my films travel far and touch as many people as possible  to start real discussions that make a difference in the lives of individuals and society.”

Originally published on Global Voices

Chef Thoraya Gamal in South Korea. Photo courtesy of the author.

As Korean pop culture continues to gain ground across the Arabic-speaking region, a new generation of Egyptians is not only consuming it but shaping its local impact. From language learning and translation to cooking and content creation, Mohamed El-Bayar, Noha Mahmoud Aref, and Thoraya Gamal are three young Egyptians turning personal passion into cultural connection. Through their work in education, food, and social media, they’re helping bridge Egypt and South Korea in ways both intimate and influential.

From trade to translation

Born in the city of Mansoura in Egypt’s Dakahlia Governorate, Mohamed El-Bayar grew up helping his father in the clothing business, but it was his fascination with languages and cultures, not textiles, that ultimately shaped his path.

Driven by a growing interest in South Korea, El-Bayar enrolled in the Korean language program at the Faculty of Al-Alsun, Aswan University, undeterred by the challenge of mastering a distant language and culture. His dedication earned him a scholarship to South Korea, where he immersed himself in the language and society.

“My passion for Korea began with trade,” he recalls during a conversation at the Korean Cultural Center in Cairo. “I saw it as a land full of potential, and when the Korean department opened in Aswan, I didn’t hesitate. For me, language was a path to a dream.”

Mohamed El-Bayar during lecture about Egypt for students of Shilla Chung Hakyo in Busan. Photo courtesy of the author.

Korean studies were formally introduced in Egypt in 2005, with the launch of the first Korean Language Department in the Arab world at the Faculty of Al-Alsun at Ain Shams University. This initiative, supported by the Korean Embassy, the Korea Foundation, and KOICA, was meant to boost cultural exchange. Since the establishment of diplomatic ties in 1995, cooperation between Egypt and South Korea has grown steadily.

While studying abroad, El-Bayar worked as an interpreter, facilitating Arabic-Korean translations during high-level business meetings, including a major deal attended by Egypt’s transport minister and a senior executive from South Korea’s Dyson company.

“Translation isn’t just about words. It’s about conveying emotion and culture,” he says. “AI will change many aspects of translation, especially in technical fields. But literary translation will always need the human touch.”

From curiosity to culinary craft

In the bustling alleys of old Cairo, where the scent of spices lingers in the air, Thoraya Gamal grew up immersed in the rhythms of family and food. From an early age, she was captivated by the kitchen, watching her mother and sisters cook traditional Egyptian dishes, learning each step like lines from a well-loved book.

Chef Thoraya Gamal’s restaurant in Cairo. Photo courtesy of the author.

But her curiosity extended beyond coriander and cumin. Through Korean dramas and music, which were slowly making their way into Egyptian TV and the internet, Gamal discovered a new culinary world, one that stirred her imagination as much as her appetite. “What began as curiosity,” she says, “turned into a deep love and desire to experience a culture through its food.”

Driven by this passion, Gamal set out to master Korean cuisine, aiming not just to cook but also to connect cultures. Her journey led to the opening of her own Korean restaurant in Cairo, where traditional dishes like kimbap, bibimbap, tteokbokki, and jjajangmyeon are served alongside screenings of Korean dramas. Guests can lounge in Korean-style settings and even try on hanbok, a traditional Korean dress, making the experience immersive from plate to ambiance. “Inside, we screen beloved Korean dramas such as Goblin, Winter Sonata, Weak Hero Class 1,2 and works starring Gong Yoo, who holds a special place in my heart,” Gamal adds. 

Thoraya Gamal. Photo courtesy of the author.

Her rise mirrors the growing popularity of Korean pop culture in Egypt. Since the early 2010s, the spread of K-dramas and K-pop, has been boosted by streaming platforms and social media. What initially started as a niche interest among a few fans quickly evolved into a widespread cultural phenomenon, particularly among youth and university students, thanks to their high production value, emotional storytelling, and a strong online fan presence. Today, Korean content is widely consumed in Egypt through platforms like Netflix, YouTube, and dedicated fan communities on social media.

“I wanted to bring a piece of Korea to the heart of Cairo,” says Thoraya. “It’s more than food. It’s about sharing a culture I love, creating a space where people can feel transported.”

From cultural exchange to influencer

Noha Mahmoud’s journey began in Aswan, where her ambition met early setbacks. She had hoped to study engineering, but missing the required grades forced her to reconsider her future. That’s when she discovered the newly launched Korean language department at the Faculty of Al-Alsun, a moment she describes as “a window to a new world.”

Noha Mahmoud. Photo courtesy of the author.

Initially drawn by her love for Korean dramas, Mahmoud found in their stories a cultural depth and social resonance that mirrored her own environment. What began as fandom quickly evolved into an academic pursuit. “I found in their stories a unique sense of humanity and social issues that resonated with the Arab reality. This curiosity led me to explore the Korean language and culture further, sparking a desire to study them academically,” she explains.

Fueled by this passion, Mahmoud pushed through her doubts, eventually graduating with honors. Her efforts paid off when she was selected as one of only 15 digital ambassadors representing Egypt in a cultural exchange program with Korea, chosen from among thousands of applicants.

Seeking further immersion, Mahmoud earned a scholarship to Silla University in South Korea. Although the COVID-19 pandemic forced her to attend remotely, she made the most of the experience. She also joined the “Friends of Korea” program, organized by the Korean ministry of culture, sports, and tourism, which brought together 30 participants from around the world, and gave her a global perspective on cultural exchange.

Egypt’s fascination with Korean culture has grown steadily over the past decade, with the 2014 opening of the Korean Cultural Center in Cairo further fueling the trend through language courses and cultural events. Mahmoud is part of this wave, but also a leader within it.

Today, she works in education and translation while cultivating a strong online presence across TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook. With tens of thousands of followers, her platforms serve as entry points for young Egyptians interested in learning Korean.