| In loving memory of Mohamed Mahrous By Réhab El-Bakry |
| During Egypt’s 18-day revolution, almost 400 Egyptians lost their lives. They came from all over this country and from all walks of life. They were Muslims and Christians, young and old, highly educated and illiterate — death is indiscriminating this way. Information about the martyrs is still being gathered. The dead range in age from as young as eight years old to as old as 66. Websites have been dedicated to them and songs written about them. Bits and pieces of information have emerged about some, but there are many who have yet to be identified.As the nation celebrates the victory of the January 25 Revolution, it is essential to remember the martyrs and their families — remember that they were people with lives, dreams and hopes. We need to celebrate their lives and who they were. One life that needs to be celebrated is that of Mohamed Mahrous, 29, who died on the Friday of Anger, January 28, 2011. His death hits particularly close to home since his childhood friend Roshdy Saad is one of the members of Egypt Today’s design team. Saad still finds it hard to talk about Mahrous. Not only did they grow up on the same street, but they also lived in opposite buildings. It’s hard for him to remember to talk about him in the past tense or say “May he rest in peace” after mentioning his name. “He was one of those people, the type that never upset anyone,” says Saad. “He had a gentle manner about him that made everyone enjoy his company. Even when someone did or said something to upset him, he would always choose the high road. He would never reply in anger. Instead, he would just let things go, arguing that life was too short to be angry or to hold a grudge.” The middle child of five siblings, Mahrous was a few years younger than his friend. Saad says Mahrous was just like any other boy you might meet in Cairo. And Saad, as the older of the two, decided it was his job to show Mahrous the ropes of being “cool.” They loved to play practical jokes on one another and their neighbors. Although they never really got in trouble, they were no angels either. “There’s a supermarket near where we live. We used to play in the supermarket as if it was our personal playground. But still, no one go mad at us. We were good kids, the kind you’d want for kids. Funny but smart, jokesters but hardworking. What can I say? That was just who we were.” After high school, Mahrous first joined the Faculty of Law in Mansoura University. But a year later, he opted to switch faculties to study interior decorating. He joined Saad at the High Institute for Applied Arts in Sixth of October City. “He was always very creative,” says Saad. “I think he would have been a good lawyer, but it would have been a shame since this would have meant that no one would have benefited from his creativity and the amount of love with which he took on every design project.” After graduating in 2005, Mahrous travelled to Dubai where he worked for a few years. But he decided to come back after realizing that being away from home was just not for him. Saad says he missed his family and friends too much — missed the traditions that they had adopted while growing up together over the years. “We have this tradition,” Saad explains. “Every Friday, we all pray together at the mosque and then we all — all the childhood friends — hang out together and catch up. It was something we’ve done for years ever since we were teenagers.” When he returned to Egypt, Mahrous set up a small interior decorating office with a couple of friends in Cairo. “It was less money, but he had always said that he wanted to build something here in Egypt,” says Saad. “His business was actually doing well and he enjoyed every minute of it. He loved the fact that he was doing something in the country.” On January 19, less than 10 days before his death, Mahrous celebrated his engagement in Cairo and was making plans for a future. Saad says that Mahrous was never politically active. Like most Egyptians, he would discuss politics privately, outlining his dreams for Egypt, but his responsibility to his family always prevented him from doing anything more. Even when the demonstrations began on January 25, he had no intention of getting involved. “The last time I saw him was on January 28, two hours before he died,” recalls Saad. “At this point, there were shots ringing out throughout our neighborhood, and he told me that he was just going with his cousin to take a look. So I told him not to be late. He said that he was only going for a few minutes and that he would be right back.” Mahrous then walked with his cousin towards Al-Darb Al-Ahmar police station but, according to his cousin, when the gunfire started ringing in the street, they decided to turn around and walk back home. That’s when Mahrous was shot in the back with live ammunition, as was verified by his death certificate. “His cousin says [Mahrous] looked at him, handed him his phone and told him, ‘I’ve been shot,’” says Saad. “Talking about it now, I still can’t believe it. I keep thinking of this cake that my mom makes that he used to love. I wish she had made him that cake one last time.” Saad says Mahrous was buried the next day. There were hundreds of people at his burial prayers. “There were so many people we knew but there were also so many people we didn’t,” Saad says. “Everyone wanted to honor him. Everyone wanted a chance to carry his coffin. I think he would’ve liked to know that so many people loved him.” For Saad, his childhood friend’s smiling face never seems to leave him these days. He tries to focus on all the great qualities that made Mahrous such a great person and a great friend. Saad keeps replaying their childhood memories like a video reel, but he still can’t bring himself to visit his friend’s home. It’s just too difficult. |
Be Social
Comments
Leave a Comment