San Carlos Says Goodbye To Omar Ahmad

A few years ago, Omar Ahmad sat silently, his head bowed down, staring blankly at his acoustic guitar. When he looked up, his eyes grew wide. Before him were more than 30 people, parents, friends and other guitar players, waiting for him to begin.

 From the sidelines his guitar teacher, Garrick Davis, watched intently, almost nervously. Davis had organized this recital for all of his students, a very public incentive to practice and work at the art he had taught them all to take so seriously.

 Ahmad, in his early 40’s, was the oldest of the bunch. Beside him on his left and right were kids by comparison, 18-year-olds with God given musical talent, spry fingers and a knack for the arts. Then there was Ahmad, gripping his pick too tightly, stiff and uncertain. His teacher described him as vulnerable, like a scared child.

 “He started playing ‘Dueling Banjos’ and it started kind of stiff, but as he got into it, he started playing from his heart,” Davis said. “He told me years earlier he wanted to learn how to play the guitar for his nieces. I knew how much this moment meant for him.”

 Ahmad was the mayor of San Carlos when he died suddenly on Tuesday of a heart attack. He was 46. Ahmad was known as a driving force in Democratic politics in Sacramento, and as an expert in launching tech businesses throughout Silicon Valley. 

The song, “Dueling Banjos,” isn’t an easy one for any guitarist. Ahmad’s fingers flittered from the second to fourth frets. His fingers found the right notes. He picked the strings like he had practiced for so long, and he strummed, at first mechanically, and then, as he eased into the song, more naturally. He became loose. He started to get it.

 “I’ll never forget the proud look on his face when he finished the song,” Davis said. “He was like a little kid with a big grin on his face. He was so happy he could play.”

 Inside the Hiller Aviation Museum, more than 400 people gathered to celebrate the life of Omar Ahmad. His closet friends and family members spoke about his contributions as a public servant, a son, brother and friend.

 Beside a photo of Ahmad was a guitar made of roses. It was a passion of his, an outlet of artistic expression for a man who spent his life steeped in science.  During the ceremony, Ahmad’s closest friend remarked at Omar’s inability to do anything halfway. When he loved something, Kayyum Mansoor said, he put everything he had into it.

 The guitar was no different.

 Beneath Ahmad’s public persona as a politician and businessman was the soul of a man who dreamed of playing the guitar for his nieces back in Florida; a man who found great pleasure in the simplicity of a perfect coffee bean; a man who loved a good cigar.

 During their five-year relationship as student and teacher, Davis said he and Ahmad would speak often about relationships.

 “Omar would often talk about how he wanted a family but never found that one,” Davis said. “One of his dreams was to be able to play the guitar for his nieces because he never had any kids of his own.”

 When he wasn’t strumming his guitar, Omar could be seen smoking an Opus-X cigar by Arturo Fuente—his favorite—according to close friend and owner of the Broadway Tobaccionist, Gretta Gerges. If it wasn’t an Opus-X, it was a Padron Anniversary 1926, she said.

 Ahmad became a member of the tobacco shop in 1997, and Gerges said he would buy boxes of cigars every two months.

 “Cigars were one of his favorite things,” she said. “He loved them almost as much as he loved coffee.”

 Ahmad was also known to take a scientific, but artistic approach to his coffee, having rare, authentic beans shipped to his house in the San Carlos Hills, mixing and matching blends in his search for the perfect cup.

 “He was a very funny man and if he loved something he really loved,” she said.

 Ahmad’s hobbies were obvious to anyone who had ever stepped foot in his home. Once inside, close friends said, the smell of freshly brewed Turkish coffee would waft through the air. On the walls hung dozens of guitars, some signed by his musical idols like Peter Gabriel or Jimmy Buffet.

 “He was just such a passionate person,” said Davis, “and it was so obvious by how much time and dedication he put into the things that brought him joy.”

 Ahmad was known as Peecho to those who knew him as a child. He was born in Youngstown, Ohio, the son of Dr. Ifikhar. His Uncle Haamid shared memories of the time they spent together at the Montreal Games in 1976. San Carlos Vice Mayor Andy Klein laughed as he tells the story of how Omar and himself were stopped by Belmont police while they were campaigning for city council, walking from door to door. Gerges choked up when she remembers how much he loved apple juice.

 The guitars still hang in his now empty home. Boxes of cigars remain that he will never smoke. He died early Tuesday after firefighters tried to revive him as they rushed him to Sequoia Hospital.

 “His scorecard was complete,” said his uncle, Moin Nawaz. “He did more in his short life than those who live twice as long. He touched so many people.”

 The scorecard consists of many accomplishments: political and business success, long-lasting friendships, and cherished familial relationships. Near the top of that list is a moment Ahmad had dreamed of.

 Years earlier, his sister Fataima Ahmad recalled with great affection, Omar arrived at her Florida home with his guitar on his back. His nieces Anna, 10, Leila, 7, and Noor, 5, gathered around, the children he never had, and began to strum them a song.

 “They were the light of his life,” Nawaz said. “They’ve lost something they cannot even begin to comprehend.”