It was a clear morning in a remote village in the Sahara desert, the light breaks the darkness in the small adobe house where he lives Abdellah. His mother calls him to get up for school, stir in bed and not wanting to rise, makes and enters the room using kitchen where you’ll find a hot tea with honey cake, then dresses and goes out.
Her father works raising animals on land with the edge of town, your child goes to school is a great effort to the depleted family finances, today I will raise it and help them stop working, because I can not afford books and expenses. Abdellah knows, and when school is going to market, which offers packages to carry three or four dirham, which collects, which is very little, gives it to his mother. Today when I got home found a friend of his father whose name is Rachid; talking two, around a steaming kettle, has offered to go to work in Tangier, and hod not ask anything simply accept, the salary is least fifty dirham, to change, five euros.
Gather your little room, and goes with his new employer, a man of small stature but with a penetrating gaze, which worried him. The journey is long and tiring, crossing from south to north Morocco, dusty roads, to reach the coast where the roads are improved a little share house with boys his age, all mortgaged to youth poverty and the desire to improve. The pick up in the morning in a rickety truck and take them to work, there are from sunrise to sunset, for a miserable salary, what they earn have to pay the rent, food, and save some to send home.