The harmattan wind rolled through Umunze like an old song, brushing dust across the clay roads and whispering through the papaya trees. Chinedu Ibrahim Obasi stood at the edge of his late father's farm, toes buried in cracked soil, staring out at what was once a dream and now looked more like a curse.
The land was tired. The trees, sparse. Nothing had grown here properly in two years.
He let out a long breath, the kind that felt heavier than his twenty-three years. His sandals pressed deep into the brittle earth, his hands tucked in the pockets of his old denim trousers. Around him, the early morning light painted the fields in shades of gold, but even that couldn't hide the truth: things were falling apart.
Still, there was a strange rhythm in his chest. A beat. A whisper. The kind of thing he'd been feeling more often lately — strange flickers of memory that didn't belong to the past. Visions. Hints. Headlines of games he didn't remember watching, market prices he somehow knew would change. Dreams, maybe. Madness, maybe. Or something else.
"Chinedu!" his mother called from the compound behind him.
He turned. Mama stood by the cooking shed, her wrapper tightly knotted, her hands holding a tray of egusi soup. Her eyes scanned him quickly, then softened.
"The ground won't heal itself if you stare it to death."
Chinedu offered a faint smile. "Just thinking."
"Think inside, biko. We need firewood before evening."
He nodded, but stayed still.
He wasn't just thinking. He was remembering his father's final promise — or maybe it was a warning. "Don't chase men's gold. Grow your own."
It was a noble idea. But nobility didn't pay school fees. It didn't feed Mama or his younger sister, Ifedayo. It didn't clear the family's growing debt.
His elder sister Ireti had done her part — left the village for Enugu, sent money when she could. But he was the only son. The land was his burden now.
Chinedu squatted down and grabbed a handful of dry earth. It crumbled like ash in his fingers.
He had to start somewhere. Even if it was here, in the dust and silence.
The wind picked up slightly, as if nodding back. He had promised himself he would take care of his family — and he meant it. Now, he just had to let go of the doubts and start something new.