The Road To Umuadike: The Harvest Without Unity

This next part is Dedicated to Mr Everistus Stewart, A man who amongst others made a significant difference in my life. He died a year ago Today and I don't think I've gotten over it.Sir Ever your words live on in my Book Continue to Rest in peace sir 🫡🕊️ Chapter 8The Harvest Without Unity 🌾 The harvest festival arrived, a day the whole village had once awaited with songs, dances, and the scent of roasted yams. This year, however, the celebration felt different.The fields were full, but so was the tension. Traders had offered new prizes for the best produce. Some villagers wore clothes bought with coins from the market rather than traditional wrappers. Even the music of the drums was occasionally interrupted by the laughter of children showing off new toys brought from outside.Elder Ikenna watched quietly from his usual seat under the iroko tree. Chijioke moved among the young men, encouraging them to display the largest yams, the finest goats, and the most coins earned from selling produce.Mama Ifeoma organized a small stand, selling snacks for coins, while whispering to neighbors about who had gained wealth and who remained poor.Papa Ugo, as usual, sat with his half-calabash of palm wine, shaking his head. “The village dances, but not together. Each man spins to his own song.”The festival reached its height when the drums called for the ceremonial dance. Traditionally, every age group and family would join, forming a circle to honor the ancestors. This year, the circle fractured.Some older men refused to dance with the children who had been playing with traders’ toys. Some young men ignored elders, focusing instead on showing off their new wealth. Women whispered complaints about lost traditions, while others celebrated the new opportunities.Even Chijioke noticed the strain. “We wanted progress,” he said quietly to a friend. “But at what cost?”By nightfall, the festival ended, but the village’s unity had cracked. Songs echoed faintly through the compounds, but laughter and clinking coins dominated the memory of the day.Elder Ikenna sighed as he walked home. “Change brings growth, yes,” he murmured, “but growth without roots can topple the tallest tree.”Papa Ugo, finishing his drink, smiled knowingly. “Ah, the harvest is full, but some crops are bitter. Let us hope the next season teaches the taste of balance.”

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