Pixabay
This post was published in postloop com by me 
Moustafa was an orphan boy who lived from hand to mouth. His poverty drove him into borrowing from neighbor to neighbor. At times he received alms but others showed him a cold shoulder. No, his road was thorny, hard and rough.
Pixabay
Moustafa never knew who fathered him. His ailing mom had never revealed this to him. The boy lacked the luxary of going to school unlike the children of his age. At the age of seven years, Moustafa had to toil and sweat to feed his sick mom. If he happened to get even the tinniest morsel, he shared it with her mom. Fautima was fully dependable upon his son. She could not walk as she was paralyzed from waste downwards. In addition to fending for her, Moustafa was supposed to take her to the toilet to answer the call of nature and prepare water and assist her to wash.
This however ended one evening. The boy had looked futelessly for food. As he strolled laboriously to his home, his thoughts were about what he will tell his farmished mother. He had found no food.
Pixabay
His frantic knocks at the door were unanswered. It was latched from inside and he could not be able to enter. He wondered why his mom was not opening.
He went behind the hut and to his relief, he found the window open. Through it he jumped into the hut. He froze at the sight which greeted him. His dear mom was hanging uoside down in a barrel of water. She might have wanted some water when she plunged into the drum head first.
The young man tried to pull her out without any success. He then summoned all the strength he could get and pushed the barrel down. It fell spilling all the water all over the room. The lifeless body of Moustafa's momma fell out effortlessly. The boy weeped sadly as he clutched the lifeless body of his mother.
Moustafa had often wondered why they were treated like outcasts in their locality. They had no friends and were often treated like shit. He wondered about this remorsefully as he clutched the drenched lifeless body of his mom in his hands. That body was what he cared for as if his whole life depended on it. He finally fell to sleep out of exhaustion.
In the morning, he was forced to seen for help to bury his mom. It was just a miserable cobbler who came to his rescue. They shallowly dug a hole that will make the final resting place for his mom.
"I know your mother was a good woman. She was humble and kindhearted. It beats me why she was levelled a witch in this community," Ali Yousuf, the cobbler said musingly.
Moustafa was shocked beyond words. A heavy lump slithed bubblingly from his chest and finally settled in his throat. He felt rather than saw the ground coming to hit his face. He passed out.
When he came to his senses, he was alone in the hut. Ali Yousuf just carried him to the hut and disappeared
"How could they isolate them so badly on mere speculation." He asked himself.
Moustafa knew his mother as the most loving woman she had ever come across. Despite being an invalid, she tried her best to help him. At times she could crawl on the ground to help wash his clothes. She was kind too.
Pixabay
Her teachings became live in his mind. They were like a treasure to be embraced forever.
"My son, do not ever hold any grudge on anybody. It does not make you any different if you revenge. Do the difference of what people expect you to do. Assist those in need even if what you have is little. There is only one person who will reward you; it is God who will reward you....."
She could not continue amid the loud sobs of his son. Moustafa regretted why he did not wait for her to finish before pouring down his anguish filled him.
...to be continued...
