Happy birthday sweet Marysia 💝 102 years old!

May this day, Simchat Torah, 2025

A day of mourning and a day to dance,

See only peace in Israel, Gaza,

and the whole Middle East.  

❤️‍🩹

October 2025

To celebrate Mum’s 102nd birthday, I’d like to share a story about an unusual friendship —  between her and her University lecturer.

About a month ago, I was reading through a draft of mum’s life story and found myself thinking about all those years she spent at Melbourne University. She was a very mature-age student, studying there from the 1980s until 2013.

She often spoke warmly of one of her lecturers from the Islamic Studies department. I had met him briefly but couldn’t remember his name, After a quick online search, I found it:  Dr Muhammed Kamal, Associate Professor in Islamic Studies.

I read about him. He was born in 1955, the same year as me, in Kurdistan, Iraq. He was still teaching and had published many books on philosophy, in both English and Kurdish. I even found a photo of him standing next to a bust of himself at the School of Art in Kurdistan.

I decided to email him.

To: Dr Muhammad Kamal

Subject: Request to Mention You in My Mother’s Life Story

Dear Dr Kamal,

I hope this email finds you well.

My name is Jane Korman, and I’m the daughter of Maria Kohn, who was your student in Islamic Studies at Melbourne University several decades ago. My mother always spoke very highly of you. I particularly remember that when my father became frail and she could no longer attend your lectures, you kindly sent me your slide presentations on ‘Islam in the Modern World’ and ‘Women and Human Rights’ so mum could keep up with her studies at home.

My mother is now very old—nearly 102. She lived with me for 5 years, but after breaking her hip, she moved to an aged care home across the road. I try to visit her every evening.

I’m currently writing her life story, including her time at University. I was wondering if it would be alright to mention you and the friendship you shared. I also remember how happy she was when you once visited our little hut in the countryside.

I would be delighted to hear from you.

Warm regards, Jane Korman

* * *

I wasn’t expecting more than a polite reply, if that. But to my surprise, Dr Kamal wrote back immediately. He said he remembered Mum well and would be honoured to be included in her story.

Then, to my surprise, he added: ‘I would love to visit her.’

He wanted to visit mum 😳.

I wrote back explaining that she was now nearly 102, had vascular dementia, and probably wouldn’t remember him.

Still, if he was interested, he was very welcome. I suggested he come to my home first, and we could walk the short distance to the aged care home together.

* * *

On Saturday evening, 20th September, 2025, Dr Kamal arrived at my home, carrying a large box of Middle Eastern sweets and a beautiful bouquet of flowers for Mum.

I suggested we have a chat first before going to mum’s. We sat by the fire and talked for about an hour. I took notes.

He told me about his grandfather, a poet, whom he was very close to as a boy. He used to help him recite verses when his memory failed. Growing up in Iraq, he had always dreamed of going to university, but the political authorities made it difficult to do so at the time.

At 17, he succeeded in getting a passport and a one-way ticket. He left Iraq and only returned 30 years later, in 2004.

We spoke about his people, the Kurds, the many religious minorities, ethnic subgroups and tribes, and their long history of persecution.

There was so much to talk about, but it was time to visit mum.

* * *

The day before Dr Kamal’s visit, I’d written signs to jog her memory: ‘DR KAMAL, YOUR LECTURER AT MELBOURNE UNI IS COMING TO VISIT YOU’.

But my notes didn’t seem to help.

When we entered her room, he greeted her warmly and gave her the flowers. She looked pleased. She stared at him for a long time, and for a moment I thought I saw a flicker of recognition.

But then she looked at me, and in a clear voice said: ‘I don’t remember him.’

That was it. Dr Kamal and I were quietly disappointed.

Still, we stayed on, sitting by her bed and talking.

* * *

I asked him about their friendship at university. He described Mum as endlessly curious, re-enrolling in his classes year after year.

He recalled the shock of September 11, 2001, and how deeply it affected everyone.

“Your mother came to my office to check on me’ he said. When I told her it was a difficult time, she kindly suggested I take a break, and handed me a bunch of keys to her shack in the countryside. I spent the weekend there.”

Then he told me about the time, after one of his lectures on Religions and God, when mum had become very quiet. Later, she came to him and slipped a small piece of paper into his hand. On it, she had written:

Where was God in Auschwitz?

Even after all these years, he told me, he still treasures that little note with the unanswerable question.

I’m guessing mum must have felt safe enough with him to ask this personal question. There wouldn't have been many people she would have asked. She must have sensed that he would understand her pain and the history behind the note.

He also remembered the time, around 2012, when Mum had asked me to email him to request his lecture slides on Women and Human Rights in Islam, so she could keep up. Dad was growing frail, and Mum was finding it harder to attend classes. That was the first and only time I’d contacted him — until now.

He sent the series and I remember how moved Mum was by his kindness.

* * *

After another hour talking in Mum’s room, it was time for Dr Kamal to leave.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I was so moved by this unexpected reconnection — by the care and thoughtfulness they had shared, and by the impact of an unusual friendship that had lasted decades, even though they hadn’t been in touch in years.

Two people, my Mum, Marysia/Maria, and Dr Kamal, each from completely different walks of life and histories, and yet with so much in common. They saw the beauty in each other.

May we all see the beauty in each other's differences.

May this day, Simchat Torah,

A day of mourning and a day to dance,

See only peace in Israel, Gaza,

And the whole Middle East.

❤️‍🩹