First, for his grandfather who was in charge, and then for his father.
Now, with his father gone, he was the sole owner until his son came of age. Each day was the same, interrupted only by the call to prayer at dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset, and evening.
And it’s the same thought that gets him out of bed and to work each morning—earn enough for another day. Wake up. Survive. Repeat.
But with rice, flour, and oil running low, combined with his age, how could he keep providing for so many mouths at the table?
I should be happy to be alive, but this life is a challenge and a hardship. How is it possible for one to ever prosper? Is this all there is to life? Will I ever find joy? Will I ever find hope?
These things don’t exist for Amir. Life is empty, without meaning and truth. He will continue to open his shop door in the hope that something might change—but it won’t. Not until the good news reaches him.
