My father died when I was eight years old. He was a farmer with no education
A good man.
The kind of man who came to aid of those in need.
When the world got nothing to eat, he gave what little we had.
And as reward he was stricken with malaria. As he lay dying his only thought were of his wife and children…
…Left behind with no means to support ourselves
…In a country that offer no promise of a better life.
Hozzászólások