there for each other

"Are you shopping?" I say. I saw her standing on the side of the road next to OK. She wears a flowered skirt I've seen many times before and a smart blazer. "Only for medicines," she says. "I was thinking," she adds. She fumbles in her pocket, thrusts a note into my hands. "Take this to buy a drink." I look down. It's 10 dollars. "It's too much," I say. (Her husband earns 200 US a month, maximum). "No," she says. "You are my daughter. I know you have always helped me. So, so much. We must be there for each other." She has stood beside me, this 60-something Shona woman, during a miscarriage, my father-in-law's cataract-op-gone-wrong, my son starting school. I take the note, afraid to offend. And then find that the international VISA system is down - it still is, six days later and I still can't withdraw any money -- and actually my purse has only another 12 US or so in it. That 10 dollars makes a dinner's difference.