A Generous Soul
Mustafa is among the poorest people I have ever met; he is also one of the most generous. His simple act of kindness led me to question what generosity actually means.
"I've always been poor," Mustafa told me as he walked his small herd to a field near his home, "life is so difficult, but it has always been this way". As a goat herder living in rural Bangladesh, he is just one of many trying to eke out a meagre living in a country where over 90% of the population lives below the poverty line. As we walked, Mustafa spoke about his family, who live together in the small collection of corrugated iron shelters on the edge of the field.
"This is my home," he said, pointing to the single-room shack next to the small stream that provides all his water. He talked about his children, who live with his sister in a slightly bigger shack across the path and how he hoped they would enjoy an easier life than the one he had faced.
Yet, despite the apparent hardship of life, Mustafa still seemed to feel pride in what he could achieve with the limited resources available to him. He was keen to show me his small orchard of trees behind his home. Only one of the trees bore fruit, a few mangos hanging from the branches, but without a moment's hesitation, Mustafa called for his son to climb the tree and collect the fruit. Searching for some newspaper to wrap his gift, he proudly handed over six or seven of the ripest mangos he could find.
He firmly but politely refused my offer of a few coins as he returned to his shack and motioned for me to sit so we could talk some more. With almost nothing to his name, Mustafa wanted to be clear that this was his gift, made to someone he had only met a short while earlier.
Since then, I have read news reports in media outlets about the world's richest people donating millions of dollars to the projects they champion. While we should celebrate the generosity of the rich, those millions equate to a tiny proportion of their overall wealth. On the other hand, the gift from Mustafa, someone with almost nothing to his name, went unnoticed by anyone but myself. His was a simple act of kindness with nothing expected in return.
In my travels, I have experienced others like Mustafa, who would happily share what little they have with a stranger they had just met. These small, selfless acts give me hope for the future of our society at a time when we all need a little hope. Theirs is the generosity we should celebrate because it comes from the heart, not from the headlines. Perhaps it could be a generosity we can all search our hearts for in the future — the world would, indeed, be a better place.
In my travels, I have experienced others like Mustafa, who would happily share what little they have with a stranger they had just met. These small, selfless acts give me hope for the future of our society at a time when we all need a little hope for the future. Theirs is the generosity we should celebrate because it comes from the heart, not from the headlines. Perhaps it could be a generosity we can all search our hearts for in the future — the world would, indeed, be a better place.
