One evening, Saba sat outside her hut, resting her head on Hagos’s shoulder as he massaged their mother’s hands. People were seated all over the square in groups. Sounds of laughter echoed around her. Saba turned to look at the shop at the moment when an eagle landed on its roof and began to tear at the thatch with its beak. Eyob hurried out of his shop and threw a stone at the large black bird. Soon after, he came to Saba’s to pick up Hagos, holding two packages. He handed the halva to Hagos and gave the pack of coffee to Saba and her mother, saying it was for both of them. When Saba told the businessman that she didn’t drink coffee, her mother poked her in the ribs with her elbow. Thank you and may God bless you, their mother said to Eyob.

Weeks passed and still few people bought anything at the shop. Eyob tried to adapt his business model by selling single items: one cigarette at a time, a handful of coffee beans, a few spoonfuls of shoro and berbere. The change in strategy, though, still didn’t lead to a boost in revenue.

One morning, father and son discussed the shop as Saba washed their laundry. I shouldn’t be called a businessman any more, Eyob said. Opening this shop was a mistake.

I told you so, said Tedros. He smirked as he shook his head.

People are holding on to their money so they can use it for their transport back home once the war ends, said Eyob. And when I asked the aid coordinator if they could provide people with loans to open businesses and work for themselves, he told me they were just an aid relief organization and had no loans to authorize.

But why don’t you give loans yourself?

The father and son turned their heads to look at Saba.

What?

No, let her speak, Tedros.

My grandmother used to lend money to people. She said new businesses stimulate old ones.

I did that too, said Eyob, but they could put their own homes, farms, cars and even bicycles as collateral against borrowing. How can anyone here guarantee my money, if even the huts they live in belong to the government of this country? This is not viable.

Eyob left for his shop with his breakfast untouched.

This camp is full of delusional people, Tedros said, swaggering to the kitchen hut.

As Saba arched her back, sweat rolling down from her forehead, she spotted the shop’s keys on the chair.

When Saba arrived at the shop with his keys, Eyob was standing with arms folded, staring at the long queue outside the aid centre that meandered across the square and reached the shop. Eyob shook his head. What a waste, he said as he turned his back to the queue brimming with potential customers and took the keys from Saba.

Saba looked at the aid centre, the place from which she and her family got their free food. The place that kept them alive. But there is more to life, she thought, turning to the shop, and the man who gave her work and the chance to dream of a future.