With all your efforts, you’re amongst the best people on the earth.
I’m in Algeria. In the middle of nowhere. Along a road busy with lorries traveling from A to B. Somewhere in this nowhere, surrounded by the sand of the Sahara desert, there is a small coffee shop. A house, in fact, where an elderly woman lives, sleeps. And survives.
Malika. Queen. I remember this word from my (basic) Arabic lessons. It’s something that stuck. Like El-Assad, the lion. But there are no lions . . .