Mohammad

Door knocker in Toudeshk

'Every day after school I would go to the main road. Rain or shine. Most days nothing happened. I would just sit there on a rock, my eyes glued to the horizon. Cars. Only cars and trucks. Whenever a bus stopped, I would go up to the driver and ask him whether he had seen any cyclists that day. Usually, the answer was no. But sometimes one of them would say: yes, I spotted one today, some forty kilometres from here. You just sit there and wait, Mohammad. All the bus drivers knew my name. But the people in the village called me Mohammad Crazy.'

'On those rare days that a cyclist entered our village, I would jump up and wave and shout Hello! and Stop! and Where are you from? That was all the English I knew. Most would say Hello or Salaam without stopping. No time, some of them said. Still, that was better than nothing and I would go home happy.'

'One day a tall boy decided to stop. He told me he was from Germany and needed a place to sleep. By then I spoke some English. English was my favourite subject at school. I told him there was no hotel in our village. In the next town, forty-five kilometres from here, he would certainly find something. The boy frowned. I'm very tired, he said. Can't I spend the night at your place? I thought it over. My heart said yes, but I was afraid my mum would say no. I decided to take him to my grandparents' house. Both of them had died some years before, and the house was empty. There was not a single piece of furniture. But the boy was happy. He put his bags in this corner, where we are sitting now, and rolled out his sleeping bag over there. That night I brought him my supper, and the next morning my breakfast. I was hungry for a day, but I didn't mind. I was hosting a cyclist!'

Nastaran, Mohammad's niece

'When I turned sixteen I went to the bank, got a loan and converted my grandparents' home into a guesthouse. It was difficult at first. You've seen how nice Toudeshk is. The mud-brick buildings, the desert... But the problem was that no one knew about this village. Gradually, things started to improve. Cyclists recommended my place to other cyclists they met, and that's how it began. I've been doing this for nine years now and in that period I've hosted over five thousand travellers, including five hundred cyclists. People like it here. They like the tranquility. And we serve them something else than kebab! They play with my brother's children, climb the mountain to watch the sunset, or just relax in the courtyard. And everyone pays according to his budget. But it's always a bit less for cyclists. Haha!'

'You know, they don't call me Mohammad Crazy anymore. They call me Mohammad Tourist. But it's not tourists I'm interested in. It's travellers. That's why you won't find a big sign when you enter the village. It would change the atmosphere. Some things are better kept small. But if you happen to meet other travellers, please tell them about this place. After all these years I'm still eager to meet them.'