a long way to heaven

The seven hour trip turned out to be an infinite odyssey through enormous floods. Five hours into the journey, the idea of arriving to Meknes during the day was demolished as it was getting dark and I wasn´t even half way there. I started getting really upset thinking about arriving to a huge city at night and under the rain. The guy sitting next to me tried to start a conversation: his name was Takner, he was 25 and lived in a town near Meknes. Unexpectedly, the light in the bus went off and we found ourselves bouncing in our seats surrounded by the darkest darkness. Every now and then, Takner and several men on the bus bended forward, leaning their heads on the seat before them: they were praying. For a moment, the overwhelming feeling of the journey took over me.
We arrived at Meknes. The bus went through the whole city and drove two kilometers away from it and into a remote bus station. Takner felt my nerves: he invited me home to dine and meet his family (tempting, but no thanks).
We went off the bus and he offered to accompany me on a taxi to a hotel; he tried to lend me money; he said he wanted to help, that he would just go away if I said so. Seeing the pouring rain, the dangerous outskirts outside and the dark night, I debated with myself on what to do. I told him I didn´t need any help: just like that, he turned around and left. In that exact moment I realized I did need him: Please, come with me!
He stopped a taxi and told the driver where to go. On the way, he said: I can feel what you are feeling, you are not alone.
Later, when I couldn´t find the words to thank him, he explained to me that helping others and feeling like them is an important aspect of his religion, almost an obligation for Muslims.
We said goodbye and he gave me his email address making me promise I´d let him know about my adventures in Morocco. He went back to the station to catch another bus home.
It´s weird: sometimes kindness is harder to understand than any other thing.