You are a lucky man, the nomad said.

Saba tried not to think about Eyob, about what the midwife had said, because thinking about him threatened to centre her life around a man. She wanted to be more than that. She turned her attention back to the conversation at hand.

If I may start, Eyob said.

Please go ahead, said the nomad.

The water boiled. Saba added the tea leaves.

Hajj Ali, said Eyob, everyone in this camp is tired of powdered milk and tinned rations. Everyone longs for fresh food. No one forgets those who feed them as they would like to eat themselves.

Saba’s eyes rested on Hajj Ali’s broad forehead, his bulging eyes. His bony face appeared like a chiselled rock. He was shaped by the elements he encountered on his journey, she thought. Humans, like the earth, are vulnerable to wind and water, to nature. How much had she herself changed since living in the camp?

The tea was ready. But, fearing the businessman would ask her to leave once it was served, Saba kept it on the fire. She listened on as Eyob continued his efforts to persuade the nomad to stay.

The food we get from the aid centre just keeps us alive, said the businessman. But we need more than that. We need business to get our lives back.

The nomad didn’t say anything. Just as his body and face survived the elements in their most hostile form on his travels, he stood firm against Eyob’s attempt to appeal to his emotions.

I hope you will think of this from the goodness in your heart, said Eyob. Business that combines kindness is the most profitable.

But how will my presence help business? Hajj Ali asked.

I am confident our businesses will complement each other, the businessman said. When people buy meat from you, they will buy oil, onions and tomatoes from me. Think of the profit you could make.

Hajj Ali wiped saliva from the corners of his mouth with his hands. Eyob asked Saba if the tea was ready.

Allow the girl to take her time, said the nomad. We like our tea as strong as our women. He smiled, turning to Saba: How old are you?

I don’t know when I was born, Saba replied.

My mother always told me, the nomad said, that a woman who doesn’t care about age is a woman who keeps her youth in her heart.

Saba poured tea for the men. Hajj Ali slurped and muttered thanks to God. He asked for more sugar. As Saba brought the extra sugar from a box behind the door, she felt his eyes on her back, and when she turned, his attention focused on her legs.

God bless you, he said, as he sipped on the tea sweetened to his liking. Turning to Eyob, he asked: But why is the shop closed at this time of the day?

People are not spending because they think they will leave, but it doesn’t look like the war back home will end anytime soon. Maybe the best thing to make that money flow again is to bring more business into the camp rather than less.