As the golden rays of the morning sun broke over the horizon, they gently lit up the figure of an elderly man, hunched over from years of labor, his back curved and his hands tired, yet unwavering. Despite his frail appearance, he stood with quiet strength. At over seventy years old, he began each day in the same way walking slowly but deliberately to the edge of his home where he worked crushing stones. It was a task many would consider too demanding for someone his age, yet to him, it was a calling. Some passersby looked at him with pity, others with deep admiration, struck by his resilience and the sense of purpose that radiated from his actions.
Clothed in a clean, white kanzu, he worked without compromise. Though the garment would often gather dust from the day’s labor, it was never torn or ragged. He took great care of it, for it symbolized something more than just clothing. “This is my honor,” he would respond proudly whenever anyone joked about his attire. Children from the village trailed after him, mimicking his movements, observing his discipline, and learning silently from his example. To them, he was more than just an old man, he was a living lesson.
He often said something that left many in awe. “If I give up on this work, then I’ll refuse to nurture it tomorrow.” These words echoed with power and clarity. He wasn’t working out of necessity alone, he was working out of responsibility. He believed that hard work, discipline, and dignity were values that needed to be demonstrated, not merely taught. He needed no praise or recognition. His reward was the hope that young people would see his efforts and find a reason not to give up on life.
His personal mission was clear, to raise a generation that is educated, respectful of its culture and religion, and proud of its identity. Just as he wore his kanzu with pride every day, he hoped young people would wear their character with the same dignity. He wanted them to know that success isn’t handed down, it’s built, slowly and consistently, through effort and belief in something greater than oneself.
One morning, a duat visited him before he began his daily work. They had come to deliver an important message. The old man welcomed them warmly, treating them like his own grandchildren. After a moment of thoughtful conversation, he looked at them with gentle eyes, full of wisdom, and simply said, “Come again.” With those words, he extended more than just an invitation; he offered a timeless reminder that wisdom, strength, and hope can be found in the humblest of places.
