The spirit of holding no grudges

A young woman was watching the bulldozer crushing the old wall. She also watched a line of date trees and mangoes being felled. Her six-year old daughter was counting each tree that hit the ground. As the thick dust was filling the air, an old man moved his pick up from harm’s way. He motioned to the woman to go inside their bricked house to close all the windows.Then they came out and the old man was complaining about the dust and sands coating his lettuce, carrots and cucumbers that were growing in his five acre land next to his house. He was also complaining about the cracks that appeared on his house caused by the impact of the bulldozer. The ten-hour noise a day was deafening and his vegetable and fruit business was taking a dive. The construction supervisor just shrugged his shoulders and apologetically explained that there was nothing he could do about it. A week earlier, I offered to write a complain letter to the authorities who gave their approval for the development of the site. But I didn’t have good news for him. There would be no compensation to either his livelihood or the discomfort they were causing to his life. I did not relish the task of giving him the bad news. He smiled broadly when he saw me. My heart sank because I had nothing to offer him to keep that smile on for a long time. He could read my salaam on my lips because my voice was lost under the noise of the bulldozer. He then led me inside his house. As we were entering, I saw more heavy duty machines slowly making their way to the site. Once inside his sparsely decorated living room, he offered me a glass of milk mixed with sweet rose water.He apologised that there was no electricity saying that the work being carried out outside ‘accidentally’ cut off the cables. There was a thin film of dust on the carpet and the cushions. He also apologised for that saying it was a constant battle to keep the place clean in the last one month. He looked at me expectantly after just one sip of the drink. I hesitated and he knew I was bidding for time. His face sagged because my body language said it all. It was very difficult for him to hide his disappointment but managed to force a smile.Maybe something good would come from it, he told me. He really believed it because I saw a sparkle in his eyes when he said it. I admired his optimism. He sold not a single carrot or cabbage in the last 30 days, yet, he was not really bitter about it. I left shortly after that but he wouldn’t let leave me without a parting gift. He gave me a carton full of fresh farm products, including honey, patted my back and thank me for something I could not do for him. As I was loading the stuff in my car, the supervisor approached him and asked him if he could allow his workers to have access to drinking water in his farm. He also had another request. Since it was hot, if his workers could rest under the shade of the farm so they could eat their lunch.A wicked thought crossed my mind. I was attempted to tell the supervisor to pay for the ‘service’ he was about to destroy. Instead, I waved my hand goodbye and drove away. From the mirror, I saw the farmer granted the workers their request unreservedly. It was good to see that there is still a man out there in a cruel world of commercialism, who holds no grudge to the same people he has reason to hate. He also, in a true spirit of brotherhood, he offered what he could give, free.