rayyan
Well-known member
It is scorching down in the desert. The schools have just finished. Three youngsters with broken down sandals skip their way to their meager homes.
They hold a stick in their hand. There are berries on these thorny trees. The kids might be able to shake them off the tree...eat a few, sell a few.
You know Faisal, says Rayyan, maybe your mother has some old beef left forgotten?
No, says Ali. I would have eaten it by now, he continues. The kids head home, lost in some kid thoughts.
Wish we had money, says Faisal. Why?, from Rayyan. You would waste it anyway adds Rayyan.
No, says Faisal. I would save some money, buy my father and mother some food and keep the rest for studies.
Ali laughs. We the students. More like keeping our camel pen clean, if there are ever camels for us.
Let's get some homework done, else no schools either. At least we have shade in the school.
Ali makes an expert motion of his hand..like a wizard on your left. Snip. Faisal cuts. On your right.
Years spent in the States, Canada, and Saudia. Cleveland Clinic, Arizona, MI., MN, LA....Accreditions from the schools in the States that would make anyone envious.
Now they travel to the States..on lecture and demo tours. Heart transplants authorities from Saudia. Performing surgeries for those that cannot make it
here or to any other advanced facility....from the desert to the world.
From not having sandals to providing the gift of life and hope.
They have to work on a friend; someone they grew up with, in the desert, when food was scarce.
Last night 9 paedriactic heart surgeries. There was a time when there was none. Faisal looks down on his friend on the table. Heart stopped.
He laughs. Looks up at Ali. Rayyan has slept for more than 8 hours.
Time to bring him home. And amongst his friends.
The school still stands.
Faisal and Ali exchange a glance. It never would have been about money. It always was about the desert and its people. Their people, in the first instance. And then the others who do not have the money, from around the world.
p.s. that is me on the table. And my friends working over me.
They hold a stick in their hand. There are berries on these thorny trees. The kids might be able to shake them off the tree...eat a few, sell a few.
You know Faisal, says Rayyan, maybe your mother has some old beef left forgotten?
No, says Ali. I would have eaten it by now, he continues. The kids head home, lost in some kid thoughts.
Wish we had money, says Faisal. Why?, from Rayyan. You would waste it anyway adds Rayyan.
No, says Faisal. I would save some money, buy my father and mother some food and keep the rest for studies.
Ali laughs. We the students. More like keeping our camel pen clean, if there are ever camels for us.
Let's get some homework done, else no schools either. At least we have shade in the school.
Ali makes an expert motion of his hand..like a wizard on your left. Snip. Faisal cuts. On your right.
Years spent in the States, Canada, and Saudia. Cleveland Clinic, Arizona, MI., MN, LA....Accreditions from the schools in the States that would make anyone envious.
Now they travel to the States..on lecture and demo tours. Heart transplants authorities from Saudia. Performing surgeries for those that cannot make it
here or to any other advanced facility....from the desert to the world.
From not having sandals to providing the gift of life and hope.
They have to work on a friend; someone they grew up with, in the desert, when food was scarce.
Last night 9 paedriactic heart surgeries. There was a time when there was none. Faisal looks down on his friend on the table. Heart stopped.
He laughs. Looks up at Ali. Rayyan has slept for more than 8 hours.
Time to bring him home. And amongst his friends.
The school still stands.
Faisal and Ali exchange a glance. It never would have been about money. It always was about the desert and its people. Their people, in the first instance. And then the others who do not have the money, from around the world.
p.s. that is me on the table. And my friends working over me.
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