Every year in Qena, a city nestled deep in Upper Egypt, thousands gather to celebrate the Mawlid of Sidi Abdulrahim Al-Qanawi—a spiritual festival honoring the birth of the revered Moroccan Islamic scholar. It’s one of Egypt’s most celebrated events for documentary and street photographers. I had seen incredible work from some of my Egyptian colleagues capturing its energy, and this year, I finally decided to see it for myself.

From Alexandria to Qena, the journey is no small feat—806 kilometers and about 12 hours by train. As the train pulled into Qena, I could already feel the buzz in the air. The streets were alive with movement, music, and preparation. I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew I wanted to dive in with my camera and try to capture the soul of the festival.

One of the most captivating elements of the Mawlid is Al-Marmah—a spectacular horse performance that quickly became my favorite part. It’s a powerful tradition where horsemen and young boys ride through the streets, making their way from their homes to the main festival grounds. The energy is electric. The rhythm of drums and the high-pitched melodies of flutes accompany the riders, while locals cheer them on. There’s an undeniable sense of celebration in the air.

I spent four days immersed in the festival, camera in hand, chasing moments. But to be honest, I wasn’t satisfied with my results. The conditions were tough. The heat was punishing. The crowds were thick. Drums thundered through the air, and thick sand dust blurred everything. I had to keep one eye in the viewfinder and the other watching out for galloping horses. One wrong step, and you could easily be knocked over.

By the final day, I had checked out of my hotel, stowed my luggage, and had just two hours left before catching my train back to Alexandria. And strangely enough, that’s when it happened—my best shot of the entire trip. With the pressure off, but time running out, I finally slipped into the rhythm of the scene. It was a reminder that sometimes, great images arrive when you least expect them.

Despite the challenges—or maybe because of them—I plan to return. There’s more to explore, more to understand, and definitely more to photograph. To any photographer thinking of attending, I’d say this: bring a protective cover for your camera. The dust is no joke. But more importantly, don’t get so lost in the moment that you forget your own safety. The Mawlid is an unforgettable experience, but it demands respect—from both the lens and the person behind it.