22/05/2026
The morning sun had barely risen when Nneka stepped into the farmland with her little daughter trailing behind her.
Dew still clung to the green leaves, and the soft scent of wet earth filled the air as mother and child began clearing the bushes in preparation for tilling.
Ever since her husband died mysteriously in his sleep four months ago, life had become a burden too heavy for her frail shoulders but she refused to surrender.
The farmland her husband cultivated while alive was all she had left to feed her children.
She swung her hoe weakly against stubborn weeds while her daughter gathered dry branches nearby.
Suddenly, a loud voice shattered the peaceful morning.
“Abomination!”
Nneka turned sharply to see her late husband’s kinsman, Ichie Duruoha furiously advancing towards them.
“Nneka!” he thundered.
“What are you doing on that farmland?”
“What do you mean, Ichie?” She stared at him in confusion.
“Your husband is dead,” he barked angrily.
“And I’m claiming back what belongs to me.
My great-great-grandfather leased this land to your husband’s ancestors, and they never returned it because stealing runs in their blood!”
Nneka’s eyes widened in disbelief because all through the years she was married, her husband had farmed peacefully on that same land without dispute.
Ichie Duruoha had been a good friend of her late husband and never for once had he spoken about the ownership of the land when her husband was still alive.
“Leave this land before Amadioha shaves your head!” he threatened.
“This land belongs to my husband’s family, and you know it!” She angrily returned.
The argument escalated quickly and Ichie Duruoha forcefully grabbed her arm and tried dragging her away from the farmland while her daughter screamed in fear.
Humiliated and heartbroken, Nneka ran crying to the village chief.
The elders were immediately summoned and when Ichie Duruoha boldly repeated his claims, all the elders went against him.
“You are wicked!” one of the elders shouted.
“Why wait until your kinsman died before making claiming ownership of his land?”
The Umunna severely rebuked him and warned him never to harass Nneka over the farmland again.
A few days later, he appeared at Nneka’s house unexpectedly.
“Nneka!” he began softly.
“Forget about what happened at the farm the other day.
Ehm...I’m your husband’s friend and I cannot watch you suffer loneliness.
The truth is that I do not know how to express my feelings for you that's why I acted rashly the other time.
Nne, I want to replace your husband!
Give me a chance and I promise that you'll never miss him for a day!" He boldly intoned.
“Tueh!” Nneka spat on the ground in disgust.
“How dare you, Ichie Duruoha?
Your friend is barely four months in the grave and you already want to take his place."
“It doesn’t matter.” Ichie Duruoha replied shamelessly.
“Your husband is dead and you need another man to warm your bed."
Nneka trembled with rage as she sized him up in disgust.
“Leave my house before I scream and disgrace you!
Leave now before I take your matter to the council of umunna!"
The following morning, she returned to the farmland with her daughter and tilling the ground when her hoe suddenly struck something.
Curious, she knelt and brushed aside the earth and saw a small earthen pot tied tightly with a black thread buried beneath the soil.
She whispered a prayer and uneasily returned home with her daughter.
Before sunset that same day, her legs began to hurt and by morning, it has swollen to an alarming rate.
Within some days, Nneka could no longer stand on her own and the swelling worsened until she became bedridden.
The once strong widow became thin, weak, and hopeless and the villagers whispered that her sickness was not ordinary.
Suddenly, Ichie Duruoha became a regular visitor in the house.
Sometimes, he brought food for the children and equally gave Nneka an ointment which he claimed would reduce the swelling if used in the right way.
“Nneka, it pains me to see you like this.
Why would a young beautiful woman like shrink away like that?
Mbanu!
This sickness is not ordinary.
I will take you to people who can cure you only if you'll accept me as your lover."
"And I'll never do it!" Nneka hurled back and Ichie Duruoha angrily stormed away from the house.
That night, Nneka dragged herself from her mat and began to pray with tears streaming endlessly down her face.
“Father,” I have nobody except you.
If my hands are unclean, let me perish but if I am innocent, please fight for me."
One afternoon, a pastor arrived in the village for evangelism.
He was Moving from compound to compound and when he got at Nneka's house and saw her lying helplessly on a raffia mat, he laid hand on her and began to pray.
“Every evil power tormenting this woman, be destroyed in the name of Jesus!”
He prayed long and hard, commanding whoever brought afflictions to the house of a poor widow to take back his baggage.
“Keep trusting God, your healing has begun.” He assured Nneka before moving to the next compound.
Three days later, the swelling began to reduce and so was the excruciating pains.
One week later, Nneka stood without support and before two weeks, she walked outside, unaided.
By the end of the month, she was completely healed and the entire village marveled at the goodness of the Lord.
One evening, while climbing a tall palm tree, Ichie Duruoha's leg slipped mysteriously and he crashed heavily to the ground.
His two legs shattered instantly, beyond reassembling.
From that day onward, Ichie Duruoha became a cripple, bedridden and miserable.
The villagers gossiped that it was his karma which came too fast.
Never fight someone whose hands are clean and whose trust is in God.
Evil may prosper briefly, but judgment waits patiently at the doorstep of the wicked.
Whoever digs a pit for the innocent may one day fall into it themselves because
when a helpless soul cries sincerely to God, heaven must surely rise to defend him.
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