“I herded goats half my life. And then the other half I herded buffaloes. Sometimes I lived with a dozen buffalos and sometimes with over 30 goats. Some would give milk and some would get pregnant, all to benefit my family. Not too long ago when the roads reached my village, I saw the possibility of a trade. But I am just a simple man and do not understand numbers and cunningness. So I asked my brother to open a shop. I sold all my goats and gave my brother the money. I started working at the nearby school opening gates and serving tea. I know, this is not the life father would have imagined for us. If he was alive he would be happy that we are not limited to the jungle and now travel to other places. You see, Father got buried in a landslide while digging his fields. No one found him until the next day. When they dug him out, his breath had already left him. I have tried to go farm but my heart is not there. But I have saved father’s land. If I sell it, I know he will come to my dreams and tell me I have made a mistake. And I do not want to make a mistake, not to Father.”
Not to father
