*
Hamza was sitting at his doorstep with a chewing stick in his mouth when Fareed's coach turned into the street noisily. He look up slowly, squinting as he stared up at the burly man sitting at the head of the coach, the reins in his hands. Lukman glared at Hamza meanwhile, snorting at the old man.
"Hello there," Hamza smiled at him. "Fine day today, is it not?"
"Get out of my way, old man," Lukman grumbled as he drove past him.
"I am not in your way, as it would appear," Hamza said. "You're free to pass."
"It's not like I needed your permission in the first place," he said sourly.
"Well pardon me," Hamza bowed his head towards him as he stuck the chewing stick back between his teeth. Sometimes, he laughed at the way the universe worked. Here he had been only a minute ago, plan
