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MUSTARD I – Ch. 8 | KT OLLA

EVERYONE knows the king is the wealthiest. But who knows the secret of his wealth?’

It was Moro who spoke, and his words got Baalẹ quite stirred.

Yes, the village head wanted wealth and honour. And anything that would fetch ideas about these, he was in for it.

Still when the talk went the way of the ruling king in broad daylight, he thought to tread with care.

Truly, it was these two men alone playing games in the older man’s courtyard. But the middle-aged man knew well to warn himself that ‘walls have ears’.

So he spat out something he didn’t mean.

‘Boy, let me tell you what is bigger wealth: it is having big secret and keeping all of it.

‘If it is secret, save it! And then spend it on yourself!’

He went back playing the game.

In the meantime, Moro could read the older man that he looked afraid. So he picked up.

‘It is no secret, Baalẹ! You can trust me!’

‘But you did call it secret!’

‘Yes, I did! It is open secret!’

Baalẹ paused with the game, as he suddenly grew guarded.

‘Well if it is, why then do you think to tell me? Why do you think I wouldn’t know?’

‘The eye does not see beneath the nose, Baalẹ! Is it not you the elders who say so?’

A small wind passed right then as they went quiet.

The tension was down as well as defences. And by this time, Baalẹ wanted to hear it.

He spoke. ‘The farmer who eats the seed with the harvest, goes hungry in the next harvest.

‘So if your secret is worth bronzes or horses or cowrie bags, then plant your seedlings with me.’

Moro kept quiet and said nothing.

The man was surprised. ‘What? Isn’t it worth big things?’

‘They’re even worth more!’ retorted the lad. He dropped a sigh after.

The village head grew a lot confused. He just gazed at Moro, and then asked:

‘Why are you holding back then?’

The answer dropped, and it was a question: ‘How can I be very sure I’m putting my seed in fertile soil?’

‘You can be, young man!’ retorted the chief.

‘I will do all I can to make your seed grow! Just tell me what you know!’

With this, the men dropped their games for talk.

A talk which grounded floating wards.

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