Moussa’s looking out for my children.

Scene: In the office to sign papers, at the water fountain, filling up my water bottle with Bebe Bjorned to me, Moussa is standing at the sink washing paint off his brushes.

“You bring your baby to work a lot.”

“Well, I’m only here to do quick things. I haven’t been working the last few months.”

“Still, you bring her to work; a baby doesn’t need to be at work.”

“Well, I’m not really working…”

“Yeah, but…”

“I don’t work here anymore.”

“I know, but even to come quickly – you don’t have someone to leave her with?”

“My husband works and I’m her mother.”

“Parents at home? Father, mother? Some relatives at the house?”


“Aaah… No. We’re here b’aretz alone.”

“Oh. I see. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Thanks for looking out for me, Moussa. No, I don’t live with the chamula.

We all have our own challenges…






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