The first rooster had barely crowed when Mubita awoke. Outside, darkness still covered the village, and only the faint glow of the moon illuminated the dusty footpaths between the houses. A cold breeze swept through the cracks of the mud-brick walls, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and distant wood smoke.
For a few moments, he remained seated on the edge of his reed mat, listening to the peaceful breathing of his wife and son.
This would be their last morning in the village they had called home.
He stood quietly so as not to wake them and stepped outside.
The stars stretched endlessly across the African sky. Somewhere in the distance, cattle bells rang softly as a nearby herd prepared to leave for grazing.
Mubita looked around the small homestead.
It wasn't much.
The grass-thatched roof leaked whenever heavy rains came. The walls had begun to crack, and the tiny field behind the house had failed to produce enough maize during the previous season. Yet every corner held memories.
He had built the house with his own hands after marrying Chipo.
The mango tree beside the doorway had been planted on the day Luyando was born.
The worn wooden stool near the fire was where his late father had often sat, sharing stories and teaching him about cattle.
Leaving was not easy.
Behind him, the wooden door creaked open.
Chipo stepped outside carrying a small blanket around her shoulders.
"You couldn't sleep either?" she asked softly.
Mubita smiled.
"I kept thinking."
She walked beside him.
"So did I."
For several moments they stood together in silence, watching the first signs of dawn appear beyond the hills.
"Are you afraid?" she finally asked.
He thought carefully before answering.
"A little."
"Of the new job?"
"No."
"Then what?"
He sighed deeply.
"I'm afraid of disappointing the man who has chosen to trust us."
Chipo gently slipped her hand into his.
"You won't."
"I hope not."
"My grandmother always said that honest people carry their home inside their hearts."
He smiled.
"And your grandmother had many wise sayings."
"She certainly did."
They both laughed quietly.
---
As sunrise painted the sky orange and gold, neighbours began arriving to say goodbye.
Some brought roasted groundnuts for the journey.
Others carried baskets of sweet potatoes or dried fish.
Among the Tonga people, no family left a village without receiving blessings from those remaining behind.
Old women embraced Chipo warmly.
"Do not forget us."
"I won't."
"Visit when you can."
"I promise."
One elderly woman placed both hands on little Luyando's head.
"May this child grow in wisdom."
"Amen," several women replied together.
Meanwhile, Mubita stood with a group of village elders.
One of them, old Simutowe, leaned heavily on his walking stick.
"My son," he began.
"Yes, Father?"
"Never forget where you come from."
"I won't."
"The world is full of people who become proud after finding a little success."
"I shall remember."
The old man nodded.
"Our ancestors taught us another proverb."
He cleared his throat before speaking slowly.
"The river that forgets its source will one day run dry."
Mubita bowed respectfully.
"Your words will stay with me."
---
Shortly before nine o'clock, the sound of an approaching engine echoed through the village.
Children abandoned their games and ran toward the road.
"A truck!"
"It's the truck!"
Dust rose into the air as a small white canter truck rounded the bend.
The driver smiled as he stopped outside Mubita's home.
"You must be the family going to Siampondo."
"Yes," Mubita answered.
"The farmer sent me."
Mubita was surprised.
"He really paid for our transport."
The driver nodded.
"He said no family should begin a new life by walking for miles with heavy luggage."
Chipo exchanged amazed glances with her husband.
"Your employer must be a very kind man," the driver added.
"I pray that I never disappoint him," Mubita replied sincerely.
---
Loading their belongings took less than thirty minutes.
There was little to carry.
A few cooking pots.
A charcoal brazier.
Three woven sleeping mats.
A wooden cupboard made by Mubita's uncle.
Several sacks of clothing.
A small Bible.
A family photograph carefully wrapped in cloth.
Finally, Mubita lifted Luyando onto the truck.
The little boy clapped excitedly.
"Are we going on an adventure, Papa?"
Mubita smiled.
"Yes."
"Will there be cows?"
The adults laughed.
"There will be many cows."
"Can I name one?"
"If the owner allows it."
The child's face lit up with excitement.
---
Before climbing into the truck, Headman Munkombwe arrived.
Everyone immediately fell silent.
The respected traditional leader walked slowly toward the family.
He placed one hand on Mubita's shoulder.
"My son."
"Headman."
"You are leaving as a representative of this village."
"I understand."
"Wherever you go, people will judge your home by your character."
"I will not bring shame upon our people."
The headman looked at Chipo.
"My daughter."
"Yes, Father."
"Support your husband."
"I will."
He smiled kindly.
"A marriage survives storms when both people choose to hold the same roof."
Tears filled Chipo's eyes.
She nodded silently.
The headman then lifted little Luyando into his arms.
"And you, young man..."
The child giggled.
"Listen to your parents."
"I will!"
Everyone laughed.
The headman returned the boy to his mother before raising both hands.
"May the Lord guide your journey."
"Amen," the villagers answered together.
---
The truck slowly pulled away.
Neighbours waved until it disappeared beyond the hills.
Chipo looked back through tears.
"Our home..."
Mubita squeezed her hand gently.
"Our old home."
She nodded.
"Our new one is waiting."
For several hours they travelled through the beautiful Zambian countryside.
They crossed small rivers, passed herds of goats grazing beside the road, and drove through villages where children waved enthusiastically at the passing truck.
Towering baobab trees dotted the landscape.
Women could be seen pounding maize outside their homes while men repaired fishing nets near streams.
The journey was long, but every kilometre carried the family closer to a future they could scarcely imagine.
As afternoon approached, the driver smiled and pointed ahead.
"There."
In the distance, stretching across rolling green fields, lay one of the largest farms they had ever seen.
Dozens of cattle grazed peacefully.
A large farmhouse stood proudly beneath several magnificent trees.
Nearby were workers' houses, storage sheds, a water tank, and fenced grazing paddocks.
Mubita stared in amazement.
"So... this is where we shall live."
Neither he nor Chipo knew that beyond those peaceful fields awaited friendships, trials, misunderstandings, and painful choices that would test every promise they had made to one another.