THOSE are wise words,’ the chief spoke now. ‘Young man, you’ve got great thought!’
‘Thank you sir,’ answered Moro.
‘But why are you telling me this,’ the old one put in. ‘I am pretty sure you aren’t telling me for fun’s sake.
‘Well, you definitely know that a Baalẹ isn’t royalty. At least, not in the main town.
‘So what can a chief do about king talk, when we don’t even own the right of kings?’
Moro smiled. ‘You can do very much sir!’
The man was amazed. He just got up, picked the boy by the hand and drew him in.
He took him to his bedchamber in his large mudhouse. It was one built like a bungalow home. Yet with clay used for walls and thatch as the roof.
The room was quite a little scanty. It had only a large mat rolled in a corner, with a pillow of cloths by the side. Then a few clothes were hung on pegs driven into walls.
It was a simple farmhouse.
Now Baalẹ went for the mat and spread it out for the boy to sit. He took the cloths on the floor, bound by a lean one to form a pillow.
So he gave it to Moro to cushion his back. For the two men sat, resting their backs on the wall.
The man was eager. ‘So tell me; what do I do?’
Moro was equally ready.
‘I heard that this village is named after your household sir. That it belonged to your grandfather first.
‘I also learned that you got the farmland since this town was formed. They say like one hundred harvests ago.
‘But then, Baalẹ, your family house still seems so small after a hundred harvests, to fill up the ground.
‘You always need more people with farmwork. You need more workers to plant and harvest crops!’
‘You are right, young man.’
Moro nodded. ‘That is why you have the same project as the King, Baalẹ!
‘You are the King’s man here; so here is your own sphere of influence. You are the village chief.
‘Now give out the land to gain more. Like all the kings do with their territories.
‘Give land to wise people, and not slaves. Let them farm the ground as theirs. And you will gain it back in wealth and dominion.
‘In fact, this land will grow bigger and become a famous settlement.
‘Then you will walk in the league of rulers who turn jungles to wealth!’
That moment, Baalẹ’s eyes brightened with joy. A wide smile parted his lips.
‘What do you say your name is?’
‘Moro is the name, my lord!’
‘Ah Moro, may you so prosper! Your words have got me a reason to dream. To stretch and do more!
‘I wanted to be more, but I don’t know how! Now I want to make others prosper, so that I can as well!
‘Thank you for these words, Moro! May you so prosper!’
‘Amen,’ breathed the younger man.
The elder faced him.
‘You say you are from faraway. Still you have helped us so much I must repay you!
‘Tell me if you love to farm here as well. I have land in plenty, and it is wise people like you that we need for development.
‘I will give you land, if you will not refuse it! Can you stay with us then, my friend... along with your good brothers?
‘Then, if you know civil people, who want land and can bring development to this place, please bring them to me.
‘Let us all prosper... together!’
The younger one was struck with daze. He only plunged to dream; he never knew he was destined.
That he was caused to dream. And helped.
So that instant, he got up to his knees and bowed himself.
‘You have done too much for us, my lord! I am grateful! I am deeply grateful!’
Baalẹ hurried at him. ‘Ah sit down, my child. It is I who is more fortunate!
‘Or how would I have learned this thing if I hadn’t hosted you? No wonder you said your secret was worth so much!
‘Please get up and sit, my child. It is I who is grateful!’
That day, Moro found home and property in a new place where no strangers thrived.
For Heaven will do all things to keep seeds surviving.
Sometimes He hides them at Goshen. At times He builds a manger.
But God will go all the way to keep His seed.
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