I was walking around the pyramids in Egypt when a young boy, around 10 years old, came up to me. He was selling beads and postcards to tourists. He was so cute, and I tried to explain that I wanted to pay to take a photo with him. But when I went to turn on my camera, it wouldn’t work. “Oh no!” I said, pressing buttons. The boy thought I wasn’t going to give him any money, and he suddenly burst into tears and ran away. I felt so bad, especially because he was missing his right hand. I started crying too.
“My guide will try to find him,” the tour guide said, comforting me. He promised to call someone from the community.
To my surprise, they found him! I was taken to where the boy and his family lived. “His name is Achmed,” his mom told me through the guide. When Achmed peeked around the corner, I was able to give him the money I had promised—about $50, which would help feed his family. Seeing his smile meant so much to me, and I knew I’d never forget him.
Ten years later, I went back to Egypt and wondered if I could find him again. I asked a local artist, Adam, for help. He made a few calls, and once again, I was led through alleys to a small house. It turned out to be Achmed’s sister’s house, where he had been staying. When a young man came to the door, I was so happy to see it was Achmed! He was older and taller, but he still had that same bright smile. He even recognized me, and we hugged each other warmly.
During the visit, I learned that Achmed’s hand had been cut off when he was a baby to make people feel sorry for him, so he could get more money from tourists. It was heartbreaking, but I was glad to see he was healthy and doing his best in life. I hope to visit Achmed again. He’s now a friend.
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