Through the Lens
Mohammed
“Through Life and Death, a father and a son’s bond is unbreakable”
Tucked away in the crevices I saw a man with a crisp white turban and gave him Salam, a beautiful greeting meaning peace throughout these parts of North Africa. He returned the greeting and asked if I had needed a tour for the temple. Usually I venture off on my own, but with Mohammed I felt inclined to get to know him more. He then preceded to tell me more of his life as we walked through the never-ending catacombs of Luxor temple. It was in his stories that I got to meet the Nubian man who continues to share an unbreakable bond with his father.
Mohammed began his life in Aswan, a small city on the border between Egypt and Sudan. He was the only son to his father of the same name. Since he was a child he stood by his fathers side becoming a part of his shadow. When he was 10, his father gave him his tasbih, or prayer beads from his journey to Mecca. Mohammed never took them off, always having them wrapped around his wrist.
“Since he was a child he stood by his fathers side, becoming a part of his shadow.”
His father, a working man, owned a spice shop that dazzled the entire city. Every traveler’s journey there wasn’t complete until they stopped at Mohammed’s shop where he enticed them to hibiscus tea. The aroma alone was enough to bring a grown man to his knees. Mohammed was a well known man, thick bearded with a heavy accent. His son looked up to him in every way so when he passed it hit him heavily.
It was a cool morning in the bleakest part of December. The morning frost and the eerie way the dead trees drooped, created the perfect setting. Mohammed had just came home from work when he saw his mother slumped over on the couch. She looked up at her son, tears in her eyes and without another word, he plummeted to the ground beneath her feet and weeped. They buried him the next day. Heart attack killed him instantly. As time passed it was apparent that something was missing. The entire city missed his presence, his stories, his deep contagious laugh, his loving eyes.
“She looked up at her son tears in her eyes, and without another word he plummeted to ground beneath her feet…”
Mohammed was never the same, Aswan was never the same. Mohammed became the sole provider for his mother and his 2 sisters. Every day he was forced to work at his father shop, his ears ringing with the sound of his fathers laugh echoing throughout the room. It became too much to handle so he sold the shop to another member of the community. Mohammed moved his family up to Luxor where he opened a new shop, a new life, but he still walks in his fathers shadow. Even 30 years after his father’s passing, he never forgets his legacy, and every morning before the shop gates are lifted with the call of the morning prayer he kisses his portrait, his tasbih wrapped around his wrist.