Aita Ben Able
Part 4 – The Weight of Wealth
The day Elizabeth and John left the forest of Mvepi was bittersweet. Their little hut, built with mud and thatch, had sheltered them through storms and seasons. Elizabeth touched its walls one last time, whispering, “You carried us when we had nothing. May God bless whoever lives here next.”
The twins, however, were full of excitement. They ran ahead, shouting, “We’re going to live in the city! We have a car! We have a big house!”
John packed their few belongings onto a cart. Most of what they owned was simple: cooking pots, mats, farming tools, and a few clothes. But when they reached their new home, it felt as though the past had been left behind, and a new dawn had risen.
At first, Elizabeth felt like a stranger in her own house. The walls were high, the rooms spacious, and the furniture elegant. She would sometimes stand in the living room, afraid to sit on the plush chairs.
“John,” she whispered one night, “are we truly meant for this? I feel like I am dreaming.”
John placed his hand on hers and said, “Yes, Elizabeth. This is your reward for the years of tears you shed in silence. Walk in this house as a queen, for you have earned it.”
Slowly, Elizabeth grew comfortable. She learned how to use the modern kitchen, how to clean the tiled floors, and how to drive with John’s patient guidance. The twins started school in the city, wearing new uniforms, their books carried in bright bags.
For the first time, Elizabeth saw her children return home with full stomachs, happy and secure. Her heart swelled with gratitude.
But with wealth came new challenges. Relatives who once mocked now visited often. They came with smiles too wide, voices too sweet.
“Brother John,” they would say, “we are so proud of you. Surely you will not forget your family in the village?”
Some came asking for money to start businesses. Others wanted school fees for their children. A few even hinted at wanting John to build them houses.
Elizabeth watched carefully. She remembered how these same people had advised her to leave her husband. She felt anger sometimes, but John remained calm.
He would listen, nod politely, and say, “I will help where I can, but I will not allow greed to guide me. Wealth is like fire—it can warm, but it can also burn. I must use it wisely.”
This wisdom confused many, for they expected John to throw his money around to prove his success. But John had lived in poverty; he knew the value of every coin.
Soon, John noticed something troubling. Wherever he went, a cluster of people surrounded him—neighbours, distant relatives, even strangers. Some praised him, some flattered him, others begged.
“Ah, John, you are a great man!”
“John, you are generous, I know you will help me!”
“John, you should join politics—you would make a fine leader!”
But John had already studied people’s hearts during his years of silence. He understood the difference between genuine friendship and false loyalty. He smiled, but inside he remained guarded.
Elizabeth once asked him, “Why do you not chase them away? They are using you.”
John replied, “A wise man does not fight with the shadow of his own flame. Let them gather, let them speak. I will listen, but I will not be fooled. The fruit of our life will reveal who is true and who is false.”
In the midst of this new life, Akena and Apio flourished. At school, they quickly became top of their classes. They were disciplined, respectful, and full of ambition.
Akena dreamed of becoming an engineer. He would dismantle broken radios and try to fix them. Apio loved books; she often spent hours reading stories and writing her own.
Their teachers praised them. “These children will go far,” they said.
Elizabeth would smile, tears in her eyes, remembering how she once feared her children would grow up in rags and hunger. Now, they walked with dignity, their future bright before them.
One evening, Elizabeth stood on the balcony of their new house, looking out at the city lights. She remembered her parents’ words, her friends’ laughter, and the long days of hunger.
She whispered, “If I had left him, I would not be here. Love and faith are seeds. When planted in the soil of patience, they grow into trees that cannot be shaken.”
That night, she shared her reflection with John. He nodded and said, “Yes, Elizabeth. And let this tree give shade to our children, but not to those who mocked its seed.”
They both laughed softly, and in their laughter was the sound of victory—victory not of wealth alone, but of love tested and proven.
Part V is next….
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