Nawaem is the Dahab-Based Eatery Indulging in (Art)ful Dining

Tucked away on a quiet street in Dahab, at the central point between Peace Road and the Eastern shore, lies a restaurant, and within it, an art gallery. Outside, a black and white sign hangs from the rafters, reading ‘Nawaem’, with the abstract image of a hand-drawn ostrich replacing the ‘N’. The restaurant glows warmly, its walls adorned with artwork, macrame plant-holders dangling from the slatted wooden ceiling, and soft jazzy music drifting from a corner, carried away down the street on the breeze. 

On the night of February 29th, my two friends and I, drawn in by the light and music, sat down at Nawaem for the first time. When we left a couple of hours later, well-fed, fulfilled, and happy, I remember wishing we had more time left in Dahab, just to return for another meal of garlic prawns and beetroot rocca salad. Alas, we left for Cairo the following day, but I have since tracked down one half of the partnership that created Nawaem for an interview, in an attempt to find an explanation for the restaurant’s unique soul.

Shadi Haddad, a former engineer and telecommunications worker, and Aya Mostafa, a content creator and artist, are the team that built Nawaem from the ground up. I spoke to Shadi about the process of starting the business, moving to Dahab, and working with Aya, piecing together what makes Nawaem so special.

Originally from Jordan, Shadi has travelled extensively across the region for various jobs, but it was during a visit to two friends in Dahab that he met Aya. Shadi is a master of ‘the art of pivoting’ and a firm believer that people are never as boxed-in as they may feel, that there is always time to change one’s life trajectory. He shared with me a piece of wisdom: ‘Take the first step, and the rest will follow.’

When Shadi arrived in Dahab in April 2021, he was immediately struck by the town’s energy, the peace, and the calm that pervaded it. ‘I knew the day after I arrived that I would be staying here a lot longer than planned,’ he shared with me. ‘Dahab feels like a regional glitch in the matrix,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘It’s a very strange mix of expats, tourists, and Egyptians, which can be off-putting to some, but it’s a great place to experiment.’

After deciding to stay, Shadi first opened a holistic self-help centre, a longstanding interest since leaving the corporate world. But food has always been his greatest love. ‘I think food is what I’ve spent the most money on in my life,’ he admits sheepishly. ‘But I found Dahab’s culinary scene a bit disappointing; it lacked diversity.’ He would say the town was missing a staple Mediterranean establishment before Nawaem, and he prides himself on finding the gaps in culinary scenes and even on other menus.

Despite his love for food, when Aya revealed her desire to open a restaurant and asked if he would be her business partner after only a few months of friendship, Shadi was surprised to hear himself say yes. But as they embarked on the venture together, he slowly realised how deeply passionate he was about cuisine and how significant a dream this restaurant’s realisation was for him. ‘Honestly, the opening of Nawaem was more of a coincidence than a plan. As much as I was invested, I wasn’t sure it was actually going to happen until opening day.’

Shadi and Aya’s friendship is largely built on their parallel but distinct appreciation for art. While Aya was more focused on her blog at the time, boasting 1 million followers on Instagram and 5 million on Facebook, she is also an artist. Initially, it was her artwork alone that adorned Nawaem’s walls—now, many works by various artists are on display. ‘I trace my artistic journey back to a gallery I saw in Berlin many years ago,’ Shadi said. ‘I was so moved by the paintings I saw that I cried.’ He went on to say that Nawaem is special because it is not just a place to eat well or a restaurant filling a market gap or even the realisation of a dream, but also because it is ‘an artistic sanctuary.’

Every element of Nawaem is artistically influenced, from the crockery made by Aya and a collaborating artist to the plating of the food, to the music playing in the background. ‘I am a perfectionist,’ he declared. ‘And originality is very important to me. Even my tabbouleh is unique. Why repeat?’ He believes that every venture, every dish on Nawaem’s menu, should bear a piece of him, a mark of his input.

Shadi is committed, though it remains a process, to creating a signature for Nawaem. Although the art gallery-restaurant combination is inspired, he described to me how he wants a visit to the restaurant to be a complete experience. ‘I want the name Nawaem to taste a certain way, to smell, to sound, to look like Nawaem.’ He takes pride in the vision of Nawaem and in how every sensory component plays a role in the unique soul he and Aya have created.

During our conversation, he recounted how he tweaked his superstar dish, Pot of Duck in Orange, for weeks until it was perfect, and how, after a customer once suggested a change to another dish, he tried it out and then officially edited the menu to include it. This is the ‘art of pivoting’ to which Shadi is so dedicated. Nawaem is a physical and emotional representation of change for both Shadi and Aya, named after the pet ostrich she was raising in her garden at the time.

“It is a name that means ‘gentleness,” Shadi explained to me. ‘We all need a touch of gentleness in this life.” And as for the soul of the restaurant that I sensed back in February, Shadi revealed that on the very night he and Aya hung their black and white sign from the rafters, with the abstract image of a hand-drawn ostrich replacing the ‘N,’ Aya’s Nawaem passed away.

‘It was like she gave her spirit to the restaurant, to our next chapter, and then she left.’