The peace that had returned to Mubita and Chipo's marriage brought a noticeable change to life on the Sikalima farm.
Mubita now made a conscious effort to leave the grazing fields before sunset whenever there was no emergency. Some evenings he helped Luyando with simple counting lessons using small stones beneath the mango tree. Other nights he and Chipo sat together on the veranda, talking about their dreams while listening to the distant sounds of cattle settling into the kraal.
Mrs. Bwalya often watched them from her kitchen window.
One evening she smiled at her husband.
"I think they're finding each other again."
Mr. Sikalima nodded.
"A marriage doesn't become strong because problems disappear."
"It becomes strong because two people decide not to let the problems separate them."
Mrs. Bwalya smiled.
"You sound like you're preaching."
He laughed.
"Perhaps farming has made me philosophical."
---
Several weeks passed peacefully.
Then, one Tuesday morning, a phone call interrupted breakfast.
Mr. Sikalima answered his mobile phone.
"Good morning."
His cheerful expression slowly became serious.
"I see..."
"When?"
"I'll leave immediately."
He ended the call and remained silent for a moment.
Mrs. Bwalya looked at him with concern.
"What has happened?"
"My older sister in Monze has been admitted to the hospital."
"What?"
"The doctors suspect she needs surgery."
Mrs. Bwalya covered her mouth.
"Oh no."
"I need to go."
"Of course."
He stood immediately.
"I may be away for several days."
---
After breakfast, everyone gathered outside.
Mr. Sikalima addressed Mubita.
"I know I was away only a few months ago."
"I remember."
"I'm afraid I must leave again."
"I'm sorry about your sister."
"Thank you."
The farmer looked toward the cattle grazing peacefully in the distance.
"Can you continue managing the herd?"
"I can."
He turned toward Chipo.
"And Bwalya may need your help with the medicine shop again."
"I'll gladly help."
Mr. Sikalima smiled.
"I appreciate both of you."
Before leaving, he added,
"Family comes before business."
He paused.
"I have always believed that."
Mubita nodded respectfully.
"I'll pray for your sister."
"So will we," Chipo added.
---
The pickup truck disappeared down the dusty road.
Mrs. Bwalya watched until it vanished beyond the hills.
She whispered a quiet prayer for her husband's safe journey.
Then she turned toward the farmhouse.
"There is still work to do."
---
The following days were unusually busy.
Because Mrs. Bwalya spent long hours speaking with doctors and relatives over the phone, she often relied on Chipo to manage the veterinary shop.
Chipo enjoyed the responsibility.
She had grown much more confident.
Farmers greeted her warmly.
"Good morning, Mama Luyando."
"Good morning."
"My cow has stopped eating."
"Let's see what might be causing that."
Whenever she wasn't certain, she carefully consulted the veterinary guide or telephoned the district livestock officer.
She refused to guess.
Her honesty earned the respect of many customers.
One elderly farmer remarked,
"You speak with wisdom."
Chipo smiled.
"I only know enough to know what I don't know."
The old man laughed.
"That's wisdom itself."
---
Meanwhile, Mubita continued caring for the herd.
One afternoon, while grazing near the western boundary, he noticed fresh footprints in the soft mud.
He crouched down immediately.
These were not cattle tracks.
Nor were they goat prints.
Someone had walked near the boundary fence.
Several footprints.
Recent ones.
He carefully followed them for several metres before discovering that one section of the fence had been disturbed.
Not broken.
Just... examined.
His heart became uneasy.
That evening he reported everything to Mrs. Bwalya.
She frowned.
"Could it have been hunters?"
"Possibly."
"But they came very close to the cattle."
Mrs. Bwalya became thoughtful.
"We'll tell Mr. Sikalima."
She immediately phoned her husband.
After listening carefully, he replied,
"Don't panic."
"But remain alert."
"If you notice anything unusual again, inform the police outpost."
"I will," she answered.
---
That night, Mubita struggled to sleep.
He kept thinking about the footprints.
Around midnight he quietly stepped outside.
The moon shone brightly over the silent farm.
Everything appeared peaceful.
The cattle rested quietly inside the kraal.
Only the chirping of crickets disturbed the silence.
He slowly walked around the compound carrying a torch.
Old Hamusonde noticed him.
"You couldn't sleep?"
"No."
"Worried?"
"A little."
The old man nodded.
"A shepherd should always be watchful."
He looked toward the darkness beyond the fences.
"But don't let fear become your master."
Mubita sighed.
"I keep thinking about those footprints."
Hamusonde rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"My father taught me another Tonga proverb."
He smiled gently.
> 'The hunter who fears every rustling leaf returns home without food.'
Mubita smiled faintly.
"So I should stay alert... but not afraid."
"Exactly."
---
The next morning, life returned to its normal rhythm.
The cattle grazed peacefully.
Customers visited the medicine shop.
Luyando chased butterflies through the garden.
Everything seemed ordinary.
Yet neither Mubita nor Mrs. Bwalya noticed a man standing on a distant hill overlooking the farm.
Hidden behind thick bushes, he studied the grazing fields through a pair of old binoculars.
He watched where the cattle moved.
He watched the workers.
He watched the routines.
After several minutes, he quietly disappeared into the trees.
Far away, Mr. Sikalima remained beside his sister's hospital bed, completely unaware that while he was caring for his family, someone else had begun taking an unsettling interest in the farm he had worked so hard to build.