DADDY AND I
By Valentine Uchechukwu Ndukwu
Episode 1: Vol 1, No 1, 2025
The sun hadn’t fully risen when Daddy woke me up that morning. The cock had barely finished its second crow, but he was already lacing his old sandals. “Today,” he said, “we go to the farm. It’s time you learn that food doesn’t come from the market, it comes from sweat.”
We walked down the narrow path behind the house, the morning dew soaking my slippers. The smell of wet earth filled the air, thick and comforting. The farm spread before us, green and brown like an artist’s canvas. Daddy handed me a hoe. I looked at it as though it was a weapon from another century.
“Start with this ridge,” he said, smiling. “And don’t worry if your hands ache. Even the earth rewards effort.”
After some minutes, my back started complaining louder than my mouth. Daddy chuckled. “You see why I always tell you that a lazy man’s stomach is full of excuses, not food.”
We both laughed, and he began to weed slowly, speaking as he worked.
“My father used to say, ‘The land doesn’t lie.’ It gives you back exactly what you give it. Life is like that too. If you sow laziness, you will reap regret. But if you sow discipline, time will bless you.”
He paused, straightened up, and wiped his forehead. “The ground may look hard, but it hides treasure for the hands that dig with patience. That’s why you must never rush success, it’s like yam; if you uproot it too early, you’ll meet disappointment instead of food.”
A cool breeze passed, shaking the plantain leaves. Daddy rested his hoe and looked at me.
“My son, the farm teaches humility. You bend to work, but you rise to harvest. Always remember, he who kneels before work will stand before abundance.”
When we finished, I was exhausted but strangely proud. As we walked home, Daddy smiled and said, “Now you understand why your ancestors sang in the fields. The song is not to escape the work, it is to remind the spirit that joy still lives inside struggle.”
That evening, when I tasted the roasted corn from that same farm, it hit differently. Every bite tasted like sweat, patience, and victory.
And for the first time, I realized why Daddy said, “The true wealth of a man is not in what he buys, but in what his hands can create.”
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