You can use the water from the barrel, he said. But you must refill it after you finish.

He smelt of chocolate and powdered milk. He sat in front of her on his father’s armchair as Saba set to work. She placed the water with a soap tablet to heat on the furnace, and separated the dirty laundry between whites and colours. After, she poured the hot soapy water into the bucket, and started with the white clothes. Steam rose from the bucket.

Saba heard snoring. She looked up at Tedros’s long, thin face. His head slumped to the side. Saba was tempted to splash water on his face when she noticed a wet spot at the front of his shorts. That, she thought, I will have to wash later.

Tedros woke up when a group of parents arrived with crying babies.

Please, sir.

Please give us what you can.

Our children are hungry.

Heal a mother’s heart.

Tedros stormed inside the hut and slammed the door behind him. Saba wondered about his own mother, and why she wasn’t here.

When Eyob emerged from his hut, he greeted Saba as he lowered himself into his armchair. Heat released fragrance from his neck. He opened a notebook, holding it open, but he didn’t write a word. The blank pages flapped in the breeze. The nothingness of the camp has found its way to his lap already, Saba thought.

When Saba finished with her job, Tedros sauntered out of the hut holding cash. She couldn’t recognize the currency. This is not birr, she said.

Birr! Tedros laughed and for the first time, Saba saw the gap between his front teeth. His face became rounder. And more appealing, she thought.

If you lived in the city you would know that the note in your hand is a pound note. We are in a different country.

He shook his head.

Saba looked at the creased note again. This is perfect, she thought. It was what she needed to save for her education in the city once refugees could leave the camp. Permission to travel, promised by the aid workers, couldn’t come soon enough.

So you managed to find a job in a camp, said the Khwaja as he welcomed Saba. You are planning your departure already.

Who told you? Saba asked. One can’t even keep thoughts and dreams secret in this place.

The Khwaja laughed. Here, let’s go inside and study, he said.

Besides his yellow blanket, multi-coloured chair and jute sacks, he also had two books of poetry that he had promised to lend Saba once she could read English. His eyes bulged out when he put on his reading glasses. He jabbed his finger at the inequality article again. How can they have all this wealth and yet be so poorly versed in human matters?

The British graduate was on Saba’s mind when she arrived at work the next morning. Saba greeted the businessman and headed to the kitchen hut to collect the laundry. It was locked. She tiptoed past Eyob to where Tedros was sleeping to get the keys. Good morning, Saba said, as Tedros stepped out.