Life Still Goes On (#261)
In the quiet town of Kambia, in the northern province of Sierra Leone, lived a man named Mr. Suleiman.
He was known not for his wealth or power.
But for his strength, patience, and unshakable faith in life—despite the storm he constantly walked through.
Mr. Suleiman once had dreams as big as the sky.
In his youth, he had hoped to be a teacher, to change lives and build futures.
But life didn’t go as planned.
His father died when he was just sixteen, and he was the eldest child.
He had to abandon school to take care of his mother and younger siblings.
He became a farmer—not by choice, but by necessity.
The soil in Kambia was sometimes kind, sometimes cruel.
There were years when the harvest was good and brought food to the table.
And other years when the crops dried under the merciless sun.
There were times Mr. Suleiman went to bed on an empty stomach so his family could eat.
When his wife passed away after a short illness, it almost broke him.
Left with four children and no money, he cried quietly at night.
But when morning came, he still rose early, tied his old cloth around his waist, and headed to the farm.
People in the community would ask him, “Mr. Suleiman, how do you do it?
How do you carry so much pain and still smile?”
He would only shake his head, smile softly, and say, “Life still goes on.”
That became his motto, his strength, his survival.
Through every disappointment from being cheated in the market.
Watching his son drop out of school because of a lack of fees—Mr. Suleiman never lost hope.
Years passed, and slowly, life began to change.
One of his daughters got a scholarship to study nursing.
His small rice farm grew, thanks to his consistency.
And now fed not just his household but his neighbours during lean times.
He started mentoring young boys in the town.
Teaching them how to work with their hands and never give up, no matter the struggle.
Even when sickness came knocking in his old age, he met it with calmness.
Lying on his bamboo bed under the zinc roof that leaked when it rained, he would still say to those who visited him:
“Trouble no dey finish. But as long as there is breath, life still goes on.”
Today, in Kambia, Mr. Suleiman’s name is spoken with respect.
Not because he lived a perfect life, but because he lived a meaningful one.
His story is a reminder that even in the darkest valleys, with faith, hard work, and courage, one can still walk forward.
Because life, no matter what, still goes on.
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