I work hard, I earn a decent living, I do my share of the household chores. She's got nothing to complain about. Yet, there she was, putting me down, ...alling me every name in the book and then not talking to me for the rest of the night. Maybe it's PMS. Maybe it's because her mother hates her father. Maybe it's hereditary insanity. I don't know. But whatever it is, I sure didn't feel like going home after work. I didn't think that I could put up with another night of her shit.So I was sitting. She reluctantly thought that with patience and a bit of persistence she could get the father to accept responsibility for the child, even though the balding servant shut her out.Sometimes she sat on a cool spot overlooking the slums, hung her head, and wept with anger and bitterness. Then she would see something beyond her anger. The father presented an opportunity. Maybe he would miraculously change his attitude, and the servant would change his mind, and all would be well under Allah, and the. More

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