Y the Moroccan
Y was from Morocco, and worked as a delivery man, delivering drinks and things to bars and restaurants around the area. He came from a large family who were farmers in Morocco, and sent money back each month to help support them. He was also a devout Muslim, and did all the things Muslims do; praying 5 times a day, eating only certain types of things etc. etc.
One dark day, life changed. Y got news from home. His sister had died of pneumonia. No one had told him, because they didn’t want to up set him, as there was nothing he could have done. Y was besides himself, went into understandable depression stopped eating and things seemed pretty grim.
He wasn’t able to go home immediately because of work, and getting an air ticket. In the two weeks before going back to see his family, and pay his respects to his sister he looked like a ghost, and started to fade away before us.
Don P, who every day came to meals and tended his goats and made his sermons, never on one occasion was able to give his condolences or say a nice word to Y in respect of his sister. The Muslim was not one of his flock, and so he was lost for words. Almost as if he were envious that Y prayed 5 times a day, whilst his own congregation couldn’t be bothered to turn up because they were too busy fornicating or committing other sins! He just sat there at dinner, looking ahead quietly munching, smiling occasionally, but never catching Y’s gaze.