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Mohamed was 7 years old when his great-grandfather died. Deep affection the old man tied to this child. Mohamed, the old, loved the groin of his lineage, he had learned how to make traps for birds, shoot stone-throwers, fish in rivers. He had also taught Arabic and Cyrillic alphabets, so that on arriving at school his teachers were surprised by the knowledge of this young child, but not so surprised when they knew who he was great grand son .
Indeed, the old man was respected in his village for his generosity, his wisdom and his actual beliefs. Upon returning from the war, he did not hesitate to distribute its assets to help his friends, neighbors and other villagers. He had spent his life as well, spend it earned as if it was not for him. He was old and lacked almost nothing despite the successes and deals they had enjoy throughout his life. Mohamed
enjoyed walking with him, lived a great pride when passersby greeted with deference loved one who was holding her hand.

One morning the old man got tired, and stiff joints more painful than usual, the work of a long life of hard work had been due to the flexibility and vitality of his body strong and resistant . A great weariness pervaded his whole being.
The child was like every morning to salute his back grandfather. This morning, the old man said: "Mohamed, it's time for me to die, I worked all my life, and so hard since the age of 8 years. But I can not die today because I still have to teach you what life has taught me. You must promise me never to forget what I'll teach you about life, men and god. "

And so every morning the old man rose ever more tired and more tired, but every morning he repeated these words to his great grand son, "Mohamed, it's time for me to die. But I can not die today because I still have to teach what I learned in my life. You must promise me never to forget I'll teach you about life, men and god. "
He seated him near the child to him and passed his knowledge and wisdom.

He learned that his ancestors were massacred at Merv. It explained that Merv was then a huge and splendid city, which had over 200 Madrasas, magnificent mosques, and all the passengers and traders admired her beauty. He told her how Genghis Khan, Mongol conqueror famous demanded his ancestors a tribe ex orbiting gold and grain but also the most beautiful girls in the city. His ancestors opposed the request. For three, he heard nothing more about Genghis Khan. One morning Tolui, the most brutal son of Genghis Khan reached the city gate at the head of a brutal army came Merv scratch card. Mongolian soldiers invaded the streets and killed one by one her inhabitants, destroying the palaces and mosques. Each soldier killed each saber or knife, more than 300 people, men, women or children. The few survivors

returned to the devastated city, had no time to bury their dead, their torturers reappeared to finish what they had not finished. He told how, Sultan Sanjar died of a heart attack when he heard the horrible devastation. The Mausoleum this man now sits amid a vast expanse surrounded by ancient walls still standing of Merv, as if to remind the world what happened here.

Mohammed also taught him the old generosity, explaining that the property was the fruit of labor but not without the will of god. "God gives or takes. The fruit of success is not yours, it should serve your family, your friends and neighbors. Then God will give thee again. It was well for me."

And so for thirty days, the old Mohamed Mohamed taught the young, making him promise not to forget. The thirtieth day, the old man had trouble getting up, he called his great grand son and said: "Mohamed, it's time for me to die. But I can not die today. I have one last thing to teach."

Then he took his breath and thought for a moment as if to find the right words to tell this child for so long that his mind and soul kept buried in the depths of himself.
"My dear and very dear Mohamed, I'm gonna say is the hardest thing I have to tell you. It is in the life of a man of dark periods he must free himself before he died.
I've already told the great war in which I joined to defend the USSR. I was proud to go and fight for this nation. I left my family with some good, we certainly had the largest herd and the best lands in the region. "

The old man told the war and then in detail the defense of Stalingrad, cold, hunger, mud and fear of death but also the courage of some, the strength of other characters on the battlefield.
Then he resumed "Mohammed, I killed men, many men besides, and never regret. We had lots of wins, then we advanced, always faster to get to Berlin first. The euphoria of victory made us mad. "

The old man paused a long moment, then replied:
"One evening I was walking in an alley in Berlin, we had drunk too certainly forget. I heard a shot, then I think I remember this Shooting in the vapors of alcohol. I decided to mount my gun in hand. I forced the door of an apartment, then I saw a woman who yelled to my view, terror or rage. I ' had no time to think, I was already pressing the trigger and fired on the defenseless woman. She fell once on the floor, I saw so young and handsome face that I had to kill.
But it 's added to all others, it was war, we had no remorse. "

The old man's face was contorted by the memory, the more tired eyes, pale complexion. He took a deep breath and said
"I went to leave, when I heard behind me a child crying. I turned and I saw a child no older than you, Mohamed, who was holding a gun in his hand and I was, his blue eyes full of tears. The child was me
finger on the trigger, I could not move. My whole life flashed in that instant, the face of this woman and extended the life I'd just take him, all these men I had killed all the evil I had done. This weapon and those eyes full of tears, were for me as a reflection of my consciousness.

The child was not shot, he dropped his weapon. I remained motionless a few moments and realized that God had to make my life. Only God could stop that child. I left. I cleaned my gun and a few days later I could go home. I was no longer the same man I had a debt to God.
I distributed my wealth to the poor, widows, helped rebuild the village without his men and people to relive. I spent my life making money and give it immediately to help people around me certainly to redeem myself in the evening the dark streets of Berlin.
His lips were dry, but the face was relaxed, he said:
"Know, Mohamed, only God gives life. Pray every day to thank him for his kindness to you. What horror has taught me I want you to learn that you never have to suffer for your actions. "
On these last sentences, the old man shook his head tenderly and her child:" Mohamed I taught you everything that life had taught me, never forget. Now I can die in peace. "

The next morning the little Mohamed found his great-grandfather, lying in bed, lifeless.

Mohamed's face was filled with tears, he apologized for his emotion. We arrived at Farab. He parked his car, a friend, intimate certainly took us to a photo shop to print the photo of us in front of the Mausoleum of Sultan Sanjar, then I put down a taxi for the last kilometers to the Uzbek border.

I crossed the border without much difficulty among women screaming and fighting over the arm loads of bags and under a blazing sun. Two hours after I was at Boukara, happy to rest a few days after this race in Iran and Turkmenistan.