This is my shop. I sell tea here in the market. I don’t sell very much every day, but I sell enough to get by. Tea is an important part of our culture, and we drink lots of tea. But our village is poor, so few families can afford the more expensive tea leaves. I work mostly by myself. I cannot afford to hire any help. I rarely am able to leave my shop. I am not able to visit the mosque often. I think Allah will understand I have to work.
I am a thirty-year-old Hui man. I was born in a poor, small village. My parents pushed me to do well in school when I was younger. Because of my hard work and good grades, I was able to go to Beijing for University. This was a great privilege for me, since many Hui people where I am from do not have these kinds of opportunities. After I graduated I remained in Beijing to work for a few years. Although I liked the worldview I gained from this experience, the big city was a little too much for me.
My family and I work the fields from sunup to sundown. It’s hard, exhausting work, but we have no other way to support ourselves. The place where we live is very poor. I’ve heard it’s one of the poorest places in the country. And it’s dry here—very, very dry. Some seasons there is enough rain to produce a small harvest, but sometimes we lose everything to the hot, scorching sun.
Most Fridays I rush over during the lunch break to attend the Friday afternoon prayer time. It is not easy, but now that I have a child I am trying to be more consistent. When I was younger, I was too busy to come pray. I assumed Allah would understand I had to work. My father pressures me and tells me that I must do more good works than bad ones. Skipping prayer times is not doing good.
Growing up in a small village, my life could be pretty predictable. From dawn to dusk, my family would tend the sheep and grow crops in our village. When I turned school-age, I would go to school. After school and after homework, I would be expected to help as well. I’m learning that there is comfort in routine and familiarity, but there is also a desire to break out of the mundane. But, is that possible for me?
As I have gotten older, I am unable to support myself anymore. It has brought me to the point of begging. It is shameful, but I don’t have any family left. No one to help me. No one to bring shame on but myself. Thankfully during Ramadan, most people are generous. I sit outside the mosque and as people go to pray or leave many will give me a little money. It helps me get by. I just wish I had some friends and someone to care for me.