Dozens of families were there, exhausted by hunger and sorrow, hoping to receive something to survive(Testimony)
I remember the day our paths crossed, during the floods of 2020. We were in Téra for a food distribution. Dozens of families were there, exhausted by hunger and sorrow, hoping to receive something to survive. Among them, an old man with a face marked by time, dressed humbly but with a silent dignity: Saibou.
When his turn came, he received a bag of rice, which he clutched to him like a treasure. But suddenly, a father appeared, his gaze desperate. He had just arrived, late, and there was nothing left to distribute. His face fell at the thought of returning empty-handed to his starving children.
It was then that Saibou, without hesitation, handed his bag of rice to the man.
“Take it, my brother. I have no one to feed.”
These words resonated in me like a life lesson. In this world where everyone struggles for their own survival, this man, who had almost nothing, had just given everything he had.
Touched by his generosity, I went to meet him. We talked at length, and I learned his story. His wife had died years ago. They had never had children. He lived alone, in a mud house, with his only wealth being his immense heart.
Since that day, I have stayed in touch with him. Every Ramadan, I would send him sugar, rice, a few provisions, nothing grand, but I wanted him to know that he was not alone.
Today, as I was at the Téra station, ready to send him his sugar for this blessed month, the driver looked at me sadly:
“Brother, Saibou died… Almost a year ago.”
The world stopped for a moment. I stood there, frozen, holding the package he would never receive. A dull ache filled my heart. I sat on an old bench nearby, thinking long and hard about all the good I could have done today for life rather than tomorrow.
Why hadn’t I sought him out sooner? Why hadn’t I done more to brighten his last days?
Tears flowed, not just for his death, but for the injustice of a world where men like Saibou fade into oblivion, when they were the light of countless souls.
But I refuse to let his story die with him. I want him to be remembered, this man who, in his poverty, was richer than many. I want his gesture to inspire those who read these words, to remind us that the real treasure is not what we possess, but what we give. I wanted to share this story with you because I am convinced as much as Saidou, many of you are very beautiful souls.
Rest in peace, my friend. May your soul find rest with Allah, and may your example live forever in our hearts.
If you still have a little, give to the one who has nothing. Because one day, we will leave too.
B DZ/H R