The Great Mohammed

Though I heard their story, I will never completely personally feel the impact of such a thing at this point in my existence.
I arrived at the hostel and was taken to the room designated for myself and partner. It was the cheapest one in the city just to get us through the weekend, three years later it’s one of my fondest memories in recent years. As I walk in the room three humans sit up from their beds and turn to the door. The odour is stale and strong, no fresh air passes through the room. I smile and dip my head as the hostel clerk carries out the welcome orientation. I place my rucksack on the bed and thank him. He leaves and now their eyes gazing upon my partner and myself. 

Mohammed, father Mohammed and his son Mohammed. After making their way to Turkey they took a boat to Greece. Walking from Greece to Budapest, it's no surprise they were bed ridden for four days. Thirteen hours a night,  they would walk to avoid the heat and possibly security, some times in water up to their chests. Their legs, ankles and feet swollen, the sons feet fully blistered. A plastic shopping bag hold all of their possessions, it’s enough they still smile, they are alive. After their village was bombed by the USA and the UK's military they lost their homes, business and family members. The lives they had created and known were now a thing of the past.

The son and his father spoke no English however the other gentleman knew some mild english. 30 years previous he had studied in Germany as an engineer. His first question to me, ‘Why did you bomb my country.’ I in no way approve of what happened or condone any wars. Once we got passed that introduction we had light conversations and laughter over the next few days. A bit about our selfs, the universal language of soccer and we were all heading next. Youthful Mohammed sported a pair of Real Madrid sweat pants as if they were his prized possession. They would share a personal cell phone, up to date enough to watch youtube videos. Whilst one slept, another would be mesmerised and lost in that moment. I remember waking in the night glancing over seeing smiles and laughter, It intrigued me as to what humour really entertained them. It’s just nice to see another human smile. At no point did they really make communication with my girlfriend, as I understand that wasn’t something that was in their custom to do so, we weren’t married and that was different for them. They somehow translated my sufficient explanation in to the idea we were on a pre marriage honey moon.

That day we left we were on a coach to Lake Balaton, I slept most of the way exhausted by the energy of the stay. How we share the planet yet so many alternate realities we live in. I was sad for them yet proud at them same time. They were on their way to Germany to seek a better life, a new start for the young lad. They were extremely pleasant and thoughtful, offering food and drink to share even though it they didn’t have much. When the time came to leave we captured photos and they indeed wanted my girlfriend to be apart of it. I wonder where they are now, if they made it, safe, able to start afresh.

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