Got this shot with my cell yesterday. Wish the quality was better but love how it turned out.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
25February2010 Tears for Ahmed
A large smile greeted us when we opened the doors to his taxi. I tried my best to sound "like a local" when relaying our destination but he immediately switched to English and gave another smile. Maybe it was the beautiful weather or maybe it was my beautiful wife in the back seat but Ahmed's conversation flowed freely and thirty seconds into our ride he was twenty-five years into his life story.
His roots ran through Jaffa but his family relocated in the 40's and moved again a decade later. Married in his 20's and soon thereafter there were 2 boys and a girl playing in his house. Ahmed opened a sign shop, where he could practice his love for art and calligraphy and soon made a name for himself in this field. Like so many small business owners, work devoured his life and the love he had for his wife and children. Divorce dropped with a resounding thud on Ahmed's family and the accompanying grief and shame drove him to relocate....to America.
Twelve years later he was back in his homeland, driving a taxi. Life in post 9/11 America was just too difficult for a man named Ahmed. He had many middle eastern acquaintances who had changed their names upon arrival in the states for for fear of being labeled a terrorist but Ahmed had proudly kept his name saying, "My father named me Ahmed. I am Muslim. I am proud." When he got to this point in his story, Ahmed's demeanor changed, the twinkle in his eyes dissolved and sadness washed across his face. "Actually," he said, "I am not a Muslim. I am an....what's the world for it...atheist. I don't believe in God." This was a first for me here and apparently I did a poor job of concealing the surprise. "How is this possible, to not believe in God?" Ahmed responded, "It's difficult and I cannot tell anyone. I told my children this and they were very upset with me. But I feel I can tell you." I asked him about his love for art and where he thought this artistry, eye for detail, appreciation for beauty came from. "How else can you explain this other than the fact that it is from God?" We talked for 20 more minutes, this being one of the few times I was happy about being in a traffic jam, but although D said it was a great talk, I can't remember the details of the rest of our conversation. When we arrived at our stop I shook Ahmed's hand and told him how honored I was to meet him. I think I said something about praying for him but can't recall. I do remember the deepness of his smile when I told him how honored I was to meet him and the warmth of his hands as he grabbed mine and said, "The honor is all mine." But as I closed the bright yellow door I did my best to hold back tears for Ahmed. I've been thinking about him every since.
His roots ran through Jaffa but his family relocated in the 40's and moved again a decade later. Married in his 20's and soon thereafter there were 2 boys and a girl playing in his house. Ahmed opened a sign shop, where he could practice his love for art and calligraphy and soon made a name for himself in this field. Like so many small business owners, work devoured his life and the love he had for his wife and children. Divorce dropped with a resounding thud on Ahmed's family and the accompanying grief and shame drove him to relocate....to America.
Twelve years later he was back in his homeland, driving a taxi. Life in post 9/11 America was just too difficult for a man named Ahmed. He had many middle eastern acquaintances who had changed their names upon arrival in the states for for fear of being labeled a terrorist but Ahmed had proudly kept his name saying, "My father named me Ahmed. I am Muslim. I am proud." When he got to this point in his story, Ahmed's demeanor changed, the twinkle in his eyes dissolved and sadness washed across his face. "Actually," he said, "I am not a Muslim. I am an....what's the world for it...atheist. I don't believe in God." This was a first for me here and apparently I did a poor job of concealing the surprise. "How is this possible, to not believe in God?" Ahmed responded, "It's difficult and I cannot tell anyone. I told my children this and they were very upset with me. But I feel I can tell you." I asked him about his love for art and where he thought this artistry, eye for detail, appreciation for beauty came from. "How else can you explain this other than the fact that it is from God?" We talked for 20 more minutes, this being one of the few times I was happy about being in a traffic jam, but although D said it was a great talk, I can't remember the details of the rest of our conversation. When we arrived at our stop I shook Ahmed's hand and told him how honored I was to meet him. I think I said something about praying for him but can't recall. I do remember the deepness of his smile when I told him how honored I was to meet him and the warmth of his hands as he grabbed mine and said, "The honor is all mine." But as I closed the bright yellow door I did my best to hold back tears for Ahmed. I've been thinking about him every since.
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