The middle-aged Arabic man standing in the line in front of me handed a carton of milk to the cashier.
“How much?” he asked very sincerely with his head slightly tilted to one side.
The cashier was a plump young lad. He scanned it and pointed at the tally screen.
“Six thirty?” the Arabian confirmed with him again, he was slightly appalled by the price. The cashier could only nod. I have heard that in some places, fresh milk is even cheaper than drinking water. The Arabian said some more to the cashier but I couldn’t quite catch him. It was his accent or maybe he was just muttering to himself because the cashier did not reply.
“So expensive?” the Arabian exclaimed softly in a notch that sounded kind of sad, and slowly, hesitantly took a ten ringgit note from his wallet, the only note in his wallet I noticed. He bought a jar of jam too and it was RM9.80 in total.
The cashier gave him his change of 20 cents. The Arabic man left, and if his silhouette could speak, I am guessing that it was an exasperated sigh.
I don’t know why but I felt him. I felt sorry for him and I was really sad. After paying I even rushed out from the grocer’s and walked quietly behind him.
I know, sadness and tragedies happen every day and there are people who are so much worse off but who are there to sympathize? Even if they do sympathize with them, what good would the sympathy do to those suffering? As I watched the Arabic man climbed on the bus headed for KDOJ, I knew that was just how far my sympathy goes and it did him no good.
I realized that there is nothing I could do for him. I can only pray that at least they can tell Jesus.
0 comments:
Post a Comment