The sun was rising gently over the land of Burkina Faso. It was a beautiful morning. The air was cool, and the birds were singing sweet songs in the trees.
On a smooth, tarred road, a long convoy of black vehicles sped down the highway. In the middle of the convoy was the president’s car — strong, shiny, and well-guarded. Inside, President Ibrahim Traoré, dressed smartly in his traditional wear, was reading through some important files. He looked up and said to his assistant, “We must get to the capital in two hours. This meeting is for the future of our country. I must not be late.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” the assistant replied. The driver pressed the pedal harder. Everything was going well. The road was free. The journey was smooth. The guards sat upright, their eyes scanning the road ahead — alert and ready. Then, suddenly, a small figure stepped out from the bushes and stood boldly in the middle of the road.Hey, what’s that?” one of the guards shouted. The driver hit the brake hard. The tires screeched. The car stopped just a few meters away from the child. Dust flew into the air. Everyone jumped out. The guards rushed forward in…….Read Full Story Here……………….
