Mohamed Salah claimed the Premier League’s top scorer award on the final day of the season.
Salah used to play video games with his friend in Liverpool. Now the player is the Merseyside club’s favorite adopted son, a striker whose goals have propelled his team to the Champions League final later this month. Fans are loyal to their “Egyptian king” – one song includes the phrase “If he scores another few, I’ll be Muslim too”.
Salah’s ascension is almost unbelievable to the residents of Nagrig, a little rural village with two buses and a train trip north of Cairo. According to al-Masery, the 25-year-old returns to the hamlet around once a year, but he has not been affected by his celebrity. “He doesn’t even drive when he comes here,” he said. “He walks around the streets like everyone else, speaking to anyone who wants to talk to him.”
Salah is still a relatively new phenomenon in Britain. For years, Egypt has tracked and monitored his progress. It’s tough to overstate his popularity; his image is everywhere. Every coffee establishment has a Salah poster. Murals of him alongside other Egyptian cultural luminaries, such as singer Umm Kulthum and novelist Naguib Mahfouz, have arisen throughout the capital. He advertises on billboards, selling anything from chocolate bars to soft beverages, mobile phone plans, and bank accounts. The Mo Salah brand is so powerful that when he gave his name to a government-sponsored anti-drug campaign, calls to their hotline increased by 400%.
Salah’s charitable efforts have received a lot of attention in Egypt’s media. It has been widely reported that he frequently assists couples in furnishing their new residences with all they require for marriage, however, the recipients of these presents have never been identified publicly. Newspaper columnists and talk-show hosts enjoy spreading stories like these about Salah’s good disposition, but al-Masery is one of many Nagrig residents who are doubtful. “Most of these stories are just hearsay,” he adds. One very popular Salah anecdote occurred when LE 30,000 (€1,420) was taken from Salah’s father. The thief was apprehended, and Salah’s family declined to press charges as a gesture of forgiveness. According to press reports, Salah personally intervened to help the man get work. One version even depicts Salah handing the man a bundle of cash.
“The media just wants to talk about Salah,” al-Masery says. “He’s a nice guy, and very respectful, but not everything written about him is true.”
Not everyone shares al-Masery’s reservations about the Salah account. In Cairo, where 200 fans jammed onto the pavement of an outside coffee shop to see Liverpool win their place in the Champions League final, 29-year-old football fan Omar Salem says he “doesn’t care” if certain details about the striker are incorrect. “People want to believe these things about him,” he said. “At this point, he’s so loved that nobody would ever deny them.”
Before last July, you’d be hard-pushed to find someone here who supported the Merseyside club. That has all changed this season, with football fans turning out in droves for each Liverpool game. “It would just be amazing to have an Egyptian player win the Champions League,” said Salem.
According to Salem, his role as a national legend began with Egypt’s match against Congo in October. Salah’s penalty, four minutes into injury time, gave Egypt the lead in the 11th hour, securing the team’s first World Cup appearance in 28 years. “When he celebrated that goal,” said Salem, “that’s the image people will remember from that match.”
Salah, according to Salem, is the first big Egyptian player “that people can relate to”. “We don’t even know what car he drives,” explains Salem. Instead, Salah’s story is that of a humble child who, through pure guts and perseverance, earned the opportunity to represent his country in Europe’s top leagues.
For the children of Nagrig, Mohamed Salah’s mythology is extremely genuine. His former school was renamed in his honor, and speaking with students here, you’d assume his narrative was part of the curriculum. One such student, 13-year-old Osama Eid, recounts Salah’s rise to prominence as if reciting his 12-times-tables. “He’s very respectful and kind,” said the man, “and well-mannered and does a lot of work to help the poor.” Eid’s friends believe he is their gang’s best footballer. When asked if he wants to be like Salah one day, he responds without hesitation: “Inshallah”.