by Antonio Napoli

One day, a well-dressed, confident man appeared at the home of Zareb, the teacher of an African village.
“I owe you a debt,” the visitor said with a self-assured smile. “Now that I’m rich, I can finally repay it.”
The teacher, sitting on the bare, dusty floor, listened in silence to the story of the young man who had managed to make his way in life: he had built a fortune, started a family, held government positions, and helped those living in misery.
But as he listened, Zareb couldn’t take his eyes off the brand-new pair of shoes his guest was wearing. His thoughts drifted back to a decade of a rigorously simple life, lived without frills.
He remembered the moment when he thought he had rid himself of all excess, but circumstances, as they often do, had pushed him to make an even more radical choice. An image came to his mind: one night, a poor, barefoot young man had slipped into his home and stolen one of his shoes. There was nothing else in that humble dwelling. Despite the biting cold, Zareb had chased the stranger barefoot, only to tell him: “I thought this might be useful to you, especially if you have a long journey ahead.”
The thief, shocked and confused, had received the other shoe from Zareb’s hand.
Zareb returned to the present, bringing his attention back to his guest, who continued speaking, more absorbed in his own words than in the teacher who was listening.
“If you feel so obliged…” Zareb said, massaging a numb foot marked with scars and a dirty bruise. “Actually, there is one thing I would like…”
“Ask, teacher. I can give you anything.”
“Please…” Zareb replied, his voice growing weaker. “I would like to have back my old pair of shoes. To you, as I can see, they no longer serve any purpose.”