The old man grabbed his stick leaning thereon, slowly and slowly he felt his way therein remote village, he didn't bother along with his injustice at the dawn of a chilly winter, what's the employment of his eyesight years ago, when he was a toddler, he was injured in his eyes and have become blind, for over five minutes, although his workshop No quite twenty meters from his home, inch to start out a replacement day of labor.
Uncle Harbi, this can be how he was known among the people of the village of Sheikh Ali, Qus Center, Qena Governorate, administrative district. He belongs to a family that has been famous since times of yore for creating pottery, from a few years ago, and when he was a young child, he worked along with his father within the same workshop facing his home today. He collects dirt from the front of the oven, before his father kneads and shapes it, so he wakes up someday from hitting his eyes and he lost his sight forever.
After the death of his father, Harbi's uncle found himself liable for his mother and three younger siblings, which forced him to figure with the assistance of his mother within the profession that he inherited from his grandparents, and after her death he accompanied his uncle within the handicraft pottery workshop, and his aunt was his real opportunity for education and study, and he was always supportive and encouraged by him within the fight against ignorance, and also the development of pottery.
As for his workshop, the smallest amount that may be described as modest, just an oversized area without walls, without doors, within the center of which could be a small clay oven, the realm of which doesn't exceed four square meters, adjacent to that, atiny low rest, which may be a clay corner without walls, only four wood and a component of a palm, topped with a mat It forms a roof that appears sort of a shade from the recent summer sun. Dozens of clay pots are near them, a number of which came out of the oven, and others await their turn.