Uduru’s Sudan

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Sudan, Khartoum (Photo: Amma Hareib on Pixabay)

 

Uduro held her head high, the wrapped money tucked securely in a fold of her clothing. Only a small amount was in the beaded purse. No need to give pickpockets reason to try and outsmart her. She knew better than most.

The market’s alleys welcomed her, coolly shaded under the roof. The dimmer light was soothing. She inhaled, sated. Shoes. Spices. Food. Clothing. Utensils. Leather goods. Whatever she needed could be hers. She walked slowly as befitting her status, her back straight with pride.

She was back.

No longer the barefooted street urchin, begging for leftovers, scurrying from grabby hands while carrying favors for a scrap and a slap.

She was now the wife of a man who owned three stalls on the Souk’s main road. And a whole house. She was the mother of a boy who was never hungry. Umm Faheem, they called her now, in Uduro’s Sudan.

 

 

 

For the What Pegman Saw challenge: Sudan

 

15 thoughts on “Uduru’s Sudan

  1. From rags to riches and so proud of herself. It’s a shame all those scraps and slaps didn’t lean her towards helping those who used to be like her. Maybe that is to come.

    A very well-rounded piece, Na’ama and so enjoyable to read like all your writing.

    A memorable character.

    Well done.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Kevin! I would like to think that knowing her history and knowing how much she cherishes having a son at home who does not go hungry, would predispose her to seeing the street urchins around her in another light, and perhaps offering a hand. Who knows!
      Thank you also for the lovely and generous feedback about my writing – I am so very pleased!
      Na’ama

      Like

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