Morocco 25 Jan 2019
A neighbourhood story
We live in a neighborhood with a mixed population. Some of the houses are owned. Some are rented. Some people are from Dutch origin. Some people originate from Turkey and Morocco. Their families may live in the Netherlands for perhaps 50 years. No-one is unfriendly. I do not find it easy to get to know my neighbours.
A map of Morocco
How it started
On a sunny day Millet was working in our front garden. She saw a lady with a bicycle loaded with garbage. The load was certainly too big for her. Millet asked me to help her and together we brought the garbage to the destination. Since the lady had a limited command on the Dutch language our conversation was limited. Clearly she was thankful. So we got to know Fatima.
Once or twice a year Fatima rings our bell and asks me to help her with some little job requiring tools. E.g. to assemble a cupboard. Usually I can get the job done.
Fatima is Muslim. I am always treated with much respect and kindness. We talk a little. She never complains and is always thankful. She is not rich. But she serves me the best she has, Moroccan tea with cookies, bread and nice nuts. She always gives some gift for Millet.
When I leave Fatima, I feel treated as a king. I thank God for Fatima.