SUCH IS LIFE - by Zipporah Nwachukwu

<h1>Such Is Life.</h1> Long ago, when the moon still came close enough to whisper and the wind carried the names of those who listened, there lived a boy named Chuka in the red-soiled village of Oduma. Chuka was strong like the iroko tree but careless like a chick chasing shadows. He could climb palm trees faster than you could blink, but ah! His mind danced like a goat on market day. One dry season morning, Chuka’s uncle, a quiet man with eyes like storm clouds, called to him. “Take this goat to the market,” he said, tying a rope to the goat’s neck. “Sell it well. Bring back money for kerosene. And do not let the goat go.” “I hear you, Uncle,” Chuka said, chest proud, feet dusty. “I will not fail!” And off he went—whistling, skipping, dreaming. But as tales often go, trouble came with the breeze. Chuka reached the market. It was noisy. It was busy. It smelled of pepper, dried crayfish, and sun-sweat. He stopped to talk to a girl with bright eyes and sharper words. Just for a moment. Just one. And in that moment—the goat disappeared. Chuka searched. He ran. He begged. He asked the pepper sellers, the yam women, even the palm wine man. “Have you seen a goat?”“No.”“Have you seen a brown goat?”“No.”“Please, have you seen a goat that looks... regretful?”“Ha! Go home, boy.” Ashamed, Chuka returned. His uncle said nothing. Not that day. Not the next. But silence can be heavier than a drumbeat. So Chuka began to rise before the sun. He swept. He fetched water. He helped his aunt without being asked. He kept quiet. He carried his mistake like a calabash of hot soup—carefully, humbly. One week passed. Then Ikenna, the neighbor’s son with eyes too quick, came crying. “I—I took the goat,” he stammered. “I thought it was alone. I sold it. Mama found out.” Chuka’s uncle looked at the sky. Then at Ikenna. Then at Chuka. And he laughed. “A goat may stray,” he said, “but truth always finds its rope.” He gave Chuka the coins Ikenna returned. Not as a punishment. But as a seed of trust. From that day, Chuka never lost another goat. And children in Oduma say: when you tie your rope well and own your mistakes, even the lost goat may return. Moral:Responsibility waters the tree of trust. And sometimes, the goat that is yours will find its way back home.

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