NOTE; Kyyboa is NOT, let us repeat, NOT AFFILIATED with Musaw aka Mousa Jabour, or any of his family. We have nothing to do with them. Kyyboa is separate and distinct. Emlila Kyyboa was conducting an emotionally-in-depth investigation into that family, which is very intense and disturbing. She and all of KYYBOA are not connected with that project anymore.
We begin by quoting >Ashley Wood comment:
I have recently discovered that Musaw, Sahki's son, has been stealing my ATM debit card and filling his pockets quietly. He has been able to do this because I have opened my home and my life to him and invited him to be a part of it.
When he would leave to "go to the store", he would grab my ATM card and use it to get hundreds of dollars out at a time, all the while pretending that it never happened.
How much money has been stolen from me, by him over the course of 2 years, the time that I have known him? I don't know yet. I am almost scared to find out, the whole situation is already nauseating.
I do know that just over the last 2 days, $1000 was stolen by him.
When I confronted Musaw with this, he denied it and literally ran away in his van(the van that I originally bought for his mother, Pheonix), hitting a parked car on his way out as he could not get away fast enough.
He said to me, "you'll never be able to prove it" over text message.
There is a a secret that is being kept and nurtured here within this family. Because it is kept hidden,
the secret remains all powerful.
I implore all of you to come clean, face the truth, and do what's right.
Otherwise, more and more crimes will take place in the name of this secret, and needless suffering will continue to effect not only this family but many many others in an indirect way.
We begin by quoting >Ashley Wood comment:
I have recently discovered that Musaw, Sahki's son, has been stealing my ATM debit card and filling his pockets quietly. He has been able to do this because I have opened my home and my life to him and invited him to be a part of it.
When he would leave to "go to the store", he would grab my ATM card and use it to get hundreds of dollars out at a time, all the while pretending that it never happened.
How much money has been stolen from me, by him over the course of 2 years, the time that I have known him? I don't know yet. I am almost scared to find out, the whole situation is already nauseating.
I do know that just over the last 2 days, $1000 was stolen by him.
When I confronted Musaw with this, he denied it and literally ran away in his van(the van that I originally bought for his mother, Pheonix), hitting a parked car on his way out as he could not get away fast enough.
He said to me, "you'll never be able to prove it" over text message.
There is a a secret that is being kept and nurtured here within this family. Because it is kept hidden,
the secret remains all powerful.
I implore all of you to come clean, face the truth, and do what's right.
Otherwise, more and more crimes will take place in the name of this secret, and needless suffering will continue to effect not only this family but many many others in an indirect way.
Next we report that Emlila LOANED her Food-stamp EBT card to Mousa aka Musaw in January 2012. He proceeded to use it up, for the next months, illegally. Why did Emlila who is ElementAlkemy of Asheville, do such a risky thing? Musaw Mousa stole everythign that was for her own two children!!! Then they proceeded to starve until she returned to the spiritual fold of Kyyboa tribe. Thank YAhweh AMEN.
Sakhi Gulestan, 1930s-2008The Birdman of Dupont Circle
Sakhi Gulestan
Peter Muller
Sakhi Gulestan, a vendor who sold umbrellas, scarves, and other merchandise in Dupont Circle for nearly 25 years, died Saturday, March 29, inside a rented box truck in which he was living.
Gulestan, known as “Mohammed” by many in the neighborhood, was a fixture at 20th and Q Streets. He often gave away more than he sold. Although his age is unknown—he estimated he was in his 70s—his wife of 34 years remembers the December her husband got his vending license and began working in D.C.. It was 1983, “one of the coldest Decembers in ages,” says Phoenix Gulestan, who is in her 60s and lives off and on in the family’s other vehicle, a van with West Virginia tags parked off the intersection.
Phoenix, an American, met and married Sakhi in Afghanistan, where he was born. She arrived in that country from Nepal, where she had been living as a Buddhist monk. Her memory of their introduction is doused with spiritual references, including a premonition that she would meet a “Mexican bandito” in Levis and a black jacket. When she met her husband a few days later, she says, he matched the description exactly. She often refers to herself as a student and follower of Sakhi and converted to Islam, his religion, before the Soviets invaded Afghanistan and they decided to leave.
In D.C., after dismantling his vending stand each night, Sakhi visited neighborhood eateries to collect leftover bread, sandwiches, and pastries that were destined for alley Dumpsters. After offering a modest portion to his wife and two adult sons, he would distribute the remaining food to people he knew in Dupont Circle.
“There were points where Mohammed was feeding hundreds of people who had nothing,” says Tim, who didn’t give his last name and describes himself as a homeless veteran. “I can remember when I first met him when I came into this town in 1986. He said, ‘My friend, you’re hungry.’ He left for a minute, and he came back and fed me.”
Sakhi, he says, would often come through the circle late at night, waking up people sleeping on benches and passing out food he’d collected. The items he could not distribute to people he saved for the birds.
Every day at 3 p.m., he collected hot water from Dupont Flowers and spent 30 minutes soaking and crushing bread into an easily spreadable mixture. He would then cast the stew out for pigeons and gulls.
He considered feeding the birds the most sacred part of his day. He often talked about their importance and the purity of their existence and took no heed of possible fines for littering or public nuisance. Some members of the community took issue with these feedings, expressing concern that they attracted not just birds but rats.
Sakhi also gave away umbrellas every time it rained, says Alcaly Lo, a clerk at Connecticut Avenue Liquor who sold him cigarettes on most days. Sakhi distributed umbrellas at the Starbucks at Connecticut and R, too. “My umbrella stand at home contains five or six umbrellas, all of which were from him. He was always looking out for us,” says Robert Wilson, a morning manager there.
Phoenix says even as he grew old, few could keep up with her husband, including her.
“When he asked me to marry him, he also asked me why I’d marry him,” she says. “I’ll tell the truth. I’ve never seen anyone with the patience and the ability to give regardless of who or what or why. It starts at 5 o’clock in the morning and does not end until 1 o’clock at night.”
Phoenix has a place to stay in West Virginia but preferred to be at 20th and Q, close to Sakhi. They talked often about their daughter, Mountain, who died from AIDS-related complications at the age of 13. She had contracted HIV through a blood transfusion. “Her death was very difficult for both of them,” explains an employee at Dupont Flowers who has known Sakhi for the last 20 years. “When his daughter was in the hospital, he would come in every day to buy a flower for her.” Phoenix believes that Mountain’s spirit will someday return and keeps a meticulous count of the days since her death in 1994.
Although Sakhi suffered from an abdominal hernia, he otherwise appeared in good health and worked up until his death. His wife and sons found him in the truck after an acquaintance, a Jamaican woman who had come to return $4 she borrowed, told them that her knocks at the window did not get a response. He died around 9:45 a.m. The family plans a memorial for him on April 17 at a yet-to-be-announced location.
The day after his death, friends and those who knew him in passing left flowers and messages at the corner of 20th and Q Streets NW.
“Your spirit will live on,” one man wrote, along with several more words in Farsi.
“All the homeless people out here loved having him around,” says Tim, the vet. “He brought life into the park. He brought the birds.…He was the birdman.”
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