For 70 years, Abdo Hassan has shaped iron by hand in his Luxor workshop. At 80, he works through eye damage and exhaustion, driven by a simple belief: better to work than to sit idle. His only wish now is to perform Umrah before it’s too late.
Amid the roar of flames, the searing heat, the glowing iron, and eyes worn down by exhaustion, sits “Uncle Abdo” from Luxor. The lines of age are etched deep on his face. He holds a piece of iron, thrusting it into the fire until it glows, then shapes it into tools for the fields, for homes, for barns. He repairs old pieces brought by customers who pay him little. But he has grown used to work, to hardship, to anything but idleness.
Heating Iron in the Heart of the Fire
Abdo Hassan is 80 years old. He has worked as a blacksmith since he was ten. He inherited the craft from his father, one of the most famous blacksmiths in Armant, south of Luxor. He makes sickles, axes, shears, and iron rings used to tether livestock.
“I make various iron tools,” he says. “Sometimes I repair damaged parts by heating the iron in the fire, shaping it into whatever is needed. Whether it’s shears or sickles for farmers, or other iron tools.”
His busiest seasons are planting and harvest, when demand rises for sickles and axes, as well as small iron rings for livestock. Farmers bring him their specific needs, and he makes what they ask for.
He rises with the first light of dawn. He fires up the forge, waiting until the heat is right, then places the iron in the flames. By midday, he stops. Age has taken its toll, and he can no longer work long hours. He rests from the heat, eats lunch, and lets his body recover.
How He Makes Iron Tools
The process begins with raw iron, bought by the kilogram. He heats it in the koor, the traditional forge. A motor blows air into the coals, raising the temperature until the iron glows white and becomes pliable. Then he hammers it into shape. The time varies. A pair of shears might take an hour and a half. Larger tools take longer.
Working in the Heart of the Fire
Despite his 80 years, despite the toll age has taken, Abdo refuses to sit idle. “This is better than lying against a wall doing nothing,” he says.
The thick smoke from the forge has damaged his eyes. They are red, swollen, strained. He has had four surgeries, with little improvement. “My eyes hurt me, I swear,” he says. “I went to the doctor, had four operations, but no use.”
When asked why he does not wear protective goggles, he shrugs. “I got used to working this way. I don’t know how to wear glasses. I never got used to them. Today or tomorrow, I’ll die anyway. It doesn’t matter. God will decide what’s best, God willing.”
Abdo’s One Wish: To Perform Umrah
His only dream is to visit the House of God, to perform Umrah or Hajj. But bureaucratic obstacles have blocked him. Paperwork related to military service has prevented him from traveling, despite repeated attempts.
His eyes fill with tears as he speaks. “I tried to arrange travel for Umrah or Hajj, but I couldn’t. Visiting the holy sites is a matter of fate and destiny. If it’s meant for me, God will bring it. There’s a problem with my papers.”
His son, Mohamed, explains the situation. For about three years, the passport office in Luxor has refused to issue his father a passport. The reason is that Abdo’s military service status cannot be confirmed. They traveled to Qena Governorate to obtain a certificate from the military records office, but searches through the old archives yielded nothing.
Abdo’s old identification card did not indicate his military status. When the card was updated to the new system, the information remained unchanged. Without confirmation of his military status, he cannot obtain a passport. And without a passport, he cannot travel to Saudi Arabia to perform Hajj or Umrah. He has spent 70 years shaping iron with his hands. All he asks now is for someone to help him shape a way to Mecca.
