We all acted ok, but deep down things looked bleak. My friend was sick, and I could see that though we were both broke, his situation was worse. He had no money, no food, nothing to buy even a leaf to cure himself.
The note in my pocket was my last flour and oil to be baked into my last supper. But I couldn’t bear watching my friend stew in the pain of disease aggravated by hunger.
I bought him a large meal and some drugs. Nothing was left. He ate the meal with gratitude, although he was worried, worried that I had spent a lot, worried about what I was going to live on.
The severity of his hunger pushed him to eat greedily, till every morsel was wiped clean off the plate, before he paused, almost out of embarrassment, to ask what I was going to eat.
I swallowed hard. There was nothing for me. But like many others, this storm too shall pass.
Mowabites Worldwide 