Their words cut deep. Tears filled her eyes.
She tried again to warn them — but they only laughed harder.
Overwhelmed, she crouched down, crying bitterly. At that moment, the plastic bag with the money fell to the ground.
A young boy who had been watching dashed forward, grabbed the money, chased the children away, and disappeared with it.
Shahida froze — shocked.
He looked at her quietly. He felt her pain more than she knew, but something in him — whatever trapped mind he lived in — kept him silent.
He took a small stick and gently tapped her shoulder. She looked up, her eyes swollen. He lowered his own eyes.
She stood, trembling. She looked left and right, then placed her hands on her head and screamed:
“Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un!”
People gathered.
Their neighbor Haladu came and asked:
“Shahida, what are you doing here with this mad man?”
Through tears she replied:
“I only came to drive the children away. They insulted him and stole the money. Baba Asabe sent me to buy oil…”
Haladu scoffed:
“Only your foolishness would make you think you can stop those children. Now look — you have caused trouble. I will tell Baba Asabe everything.”
Shahida cried harder:
“Please, I beg you, don’t tell her!”
He ignored her and walked away.
People dispersed.
Shahida turned back to the mad man and said:
“Did you see who took the money?”
He shook his head.
Tears ran again.
“Then please… help me look through your things. Maybe the money fell here.”
He quietly began checking his piles.
She knelt beside him, searching with him — without fear.
He watched her closely — the only person who ever came close to him without fear.
When she found nothing, she stood up, adjusted her hijab, crossed the road quickly, and continued walking, her heart aching.
He watched her until she disappeared.
Then he lowered his head slowly, swallowed pain, and sat silently — thinking about life.
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