Mohamed Aluminum

Abdullah Ali Ibrahim

You will find his name in my phone’s non-Arabized contact list as “M Alum,” and in Arabic, he is “Mohamed Aluminum.” I got to know him through a recommendation from our dear friend Abdulrahman Abdulghaffar (Man) while searching for an aluminum window expert to complete the building of my electoral campaign center for the presidency. Man recommended Mohamed Aluminum (his relative) based on his excellent work on his house. The work was remarkable, akin to what a carpenter achieves with wood. Man gave me his number, and I called him after the recommendation. We agreed to visit his workshop in the new industrial area in Khartoum. After some effort, we arrived, but he wasn’t there. His representative showed us the aluminum types and their prices. Unlike other showrooms I had visited, Mohamed’s display area was spacious and well-organized. As a customer, I noted this neatness as a point in his favor.

I called Mohamed Aluminum to let him know that I wanted to contract him for my windows. We agreed to meet at my campaign center to get acquainted and measure the windows. When he stepped out of his car, I saw a sturdy, muscular man. He greeted me from afar with his distinctive laugh, saying, “What’s up, Mr. President?” I liked that he acknowledged my candidacy without unsolicited advice or judgment. I then took him to the building to measure the windows and estimate the costs.

I hadn’t seen Mohamed since that day about a month ago. I followed up with him by phone to hasten the work, but he excused himself, saying he couldn’t start on the windows until the tiling and painting were finished. Still, he continued to visit and review the measurements, which left a good impression on me. Even my contractor, Ishraq, decided to rely on him for future projects.

Another chance to meet him came when he came to collect the first installment of his fee. I was busy, so I left the check with my sister-in-law, Umm Al-Misbah. When I returned in the afternoon, the household was abuzz about Mohamed Aluminum, who insisted on presenting his ID card for verification to avoid any doubts.

We were supposed to meet on Friday or Saturday. Heavy rain had seeped through the windows of the lounge, leaving water on the floor. I called him and explained the issue. He promised to come on Friday to inspect the matter but didn’t show up. On Friday evening, I called to remind him, and he apologized, saying his technicians assured him the problem was already resolved. I told him that wasn’t the case. He laughed and said,
“I’ll come myself tomorrow, Mr. President.”
“President, president—you’ve given me no perks for being one. I’m a president in name only.”
“And who backs the president, Mr. President?”
He laughed his characteristic laugh, implying he understood but still held his stance.

Saturday morning and noon passed without Mohamed showing up, and my anxiety grew. I thought to myself, “They’re all the same. Once they’re paid, they disappear. He’s no better than the one who sold me those crooked Chinese doors and never came back to fix them. May God guide him.”

As my worry about the broken promise intensified, I called his number. The phone rang and rang. I thought to myself, “Will he add ignoring my calls to his broken promises?” Then the call was answered, and I greeted the person on the other end. A woman’s voice responded. Assuming she was his wife, I joked:
“Has Mohamed left you in charge of answering customer calls?”
“No, I’m his sister. I have bad news for you. Mohamed passed away last night. He was electrocuted.”

What a blow. Death is cunning. Our household was struck with grief, even more intense than we feel for some close relatives who pass away. We mourned the breeze that had passed through our lives. He hadn’t even forgotten to send me Ramadan blessings via text:
“Dawn paints halos of light on the minarets. Allahu Akbar fills the world with the radiance of His glory.”

Overwhelmed by guilt for doubting him on Saturday, I crossed the rivers of Khartoum to the Al-Sahafa neighborhood near the police station to offer my condolences, purging myself of suspicion. Man told me that Mohamed accepted my sympathies from afar. I told him, “Some faults cannot be atoned for except by pilgrimage to the place.”