The Guardian's Eagle: to be used for an upcoming book cover. Mehdi set up the camera, I took the shot and, thank you kindly, it's now all (c) Sabrina van den Bos
Mehdi and I woke up early last Sunday, hopped on the tube, and walked about ten minutes from the Arnos Grove Tube Station to the New Southgate Cemetery. In it is the resting spot of one of the central figures of the Bahá’í Faith, Shoghi Effendi (aka the Guardian), marked by the monument above.
Thieves stole the original eagle in the middle of the night about ten years ago and vandalised the rest of the grave, so it is now kept well under watch. As Mehdi brought out a massive Nikon and zoom lens, the caretaker and his friend, both of whom are sweet, elderly Persian men, saw us on the security camera. The friend came to check us out.
Who were we? Just visitors? Ok. How about a tour?
I’ve been to this cemetery multiple times over the years, but I had never really learned anything about it.
In undergrad, I learned that one of New York’s biggest cemeteries was also one of its biggest picnic spots before Central Park existed and vampire flicks changed popular imagination forever. They are, after all, more peaceful than creepy, and the texts on the tombstones are often more poignant than sombre, particularly at this one (though it’s still impossible to imagine breaking out a lunch spread here).
I haven’t fact checked everything I remember from everything I heard, but our gentle guide did point out that there five large rocks brought over from Mt. Carmel in Haifa and placed throughout the cemetery. Each is a piece of home for me, which is a bit funny to find somewhere in London’s Zone 2, if you think about it.
The actual eagle is a gold-platted bronze statue chosen by Shoghi Effendi’s widow. It’s eight times the size of the eagle he kept on his desk from some Japanese friends. Apparently, it’s facing Africa, a continent he often wrote about with immense esteem and love.
This shot of it will be used for the cover of a book coming out soon.
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