The first morning on the farm began long before sunrise.
A cold breeze drifted through the open window of Mubita's new home, carrying with it the familiar scent of cattle and fresh grass. Somewhere beyond the house, a rooster crowed confidently, followed by another and then another until the entire farm seemed to awaken together.
Mubita opened his eyes immediately.
Years of village life had trained his body to rise before dawn. He quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Chipo or little Luyando, who were still sleeping peacefully after the long journey.
Stepping onto the veranda, he paused for a moment.
The eastern horizon glowed faintly with the first light of day. The farm stretched endlessly before him, covered in a thin blanket of mist. Hundreds of cattle stood quietly in the grazing fields, their dark silhouettes moving slowly through the haze. Cowbells chimed softly, blending with the songs of weaver birds perched in nearby trees.
Mubita smiled.
"This is beautiful," he whispered.
Back in his old village, he had always dreamed of working on a large farm. Now that dream stood before him.
A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You're awake already."
It was Mr. Sikalima.
The farmer approached carrying two enamel mugs filled with steaming tea.
"I wasn't sure if you drank tea this early."
Mubita accepted one gratefully.
"Thank you, sir."
They stood side by side in silence for a while, watching the sunrise.
Finally, Mr. Sikalima spoke.
"Do you know why I didn't ask you to begin work yesterday?"
Mubita shook his head.
"No."
"Because no man should start working before he understands the land he is working on."
Mubita listened carefully.
"You can herd cattle," the farmer continued, "but unless you know the land, you will always be one step behind them."
He pointed toward the distant hills.
"Today, I won't give you any difficult work."
"What would you like me to do?"
"I want you to walk."
"Walk?"
Mr. Sikalima smiled.
"Walk every corner of this farm."
"Learn every hill."
"Every stream."
"Every fence."
"Every tree."
"Know where the cattle like to graze when it's hot."
"Know where they gather when rain is coming."
"Know where snakes usually hide."
"Know where thieves might enter."
Mubita nodded.
"I understand."
The farmer smiled approvingly.
"My grandfather used to say, 'A shepherd who knows the land never loses the herd.'"
"I'll remember that."
---
After breakfast, Mr. Sikalima handed Mubita a sturdy walking stick carved from mopane wood.
"This belonged to my father," he explained.
"He used it for many years."
Mubita hesitated.
"Sir... I can't take something so valuable."
"It isn't a gift."
The farmer smiled.
"It's a tool."
He placed it into Mubita's hands.
"Treat it with respect."
"I will."
Holding the polished stick, Mubita felt honoured.
---
They spent the next several hours exploring the farm together.
Mr. Sikalima pointed toward a small stream flowing gently through the eastern fields.
"During the dry season, this becomes the cattle's main water source."
They crossed a wooden bridge.
Farther ahead stood several massive baobab trees.
"The herd likes resting here during the hottest part of the day."
They continued walking.
Near the northern fence, the farmer suddenly stopped.
"Notice these footprints."
Mubita bent down.
"They're cattle."
"Yes."
"And these?"
Mubita examined another set.
"Goats."
Mr. Sikalima nodded.
"Belonging to our neighbour."
He smiled.
"You've got sharp eyes."
As they continued, the farmer explained every detail.
Where poisonous plants grew.
Which fences required regular repairs.
Which grazing areas should be rested to allow fresh grass to grow.
Where calves should be separated from aggressive bulls.
Mubita absorbed every word like a student listening to his favourite teacher.
---
Meanwhile, back at the farmhouse, Chipo was getting to know Mrs. Bwalya.
The older woman showed her around the kitchen.
"We usually prepare breakfast before five."
Chipo nodded.
"I also wake up early."
Mrs. Bwalya smiled.
"Good."
She opened a cupboard filled with neatly labelled containers.
"This is where we keep maize meal."
"Beans are here."
"Groundnuts there."
She pointed outside.
"We grow most of our vegetables ourselves."
Chipo admired the neat vegetable garden.
"It's beautiful."
Mrs. Bwalya laughed.
"It wasn't always."
"You built this?"
"With plenty of mistakes along the way."
They both laughed.
As they harvested fresh tomatoes, Mrs. Bwalya spoke gently.
"I want you to feel at home here."
"I already do."
"But remember..."
She paused thoughtfully.
"Living together isn't always easy."
Chipo looked at her curiously.
"What do you mean?"
Mrs. Bwalya smiled.
"Even relatives argue."
"What matters isn't avoiding disagreements."
"It's learning how to solve them."
Chipo nodded thoughtfully.
"My mother always told me that."
Mrs. Bwalya smiled warmly.
"Then your mother was a wise woman."
---
Little Luyando, meanwhile, had already discovered a new friend.
An elderly groundskeeper named Mr. Hamusonde was repairing a wheelbarrow near one of the sheds.
The old man noticed the curious child watching him.
"Would you like to help me?"
Luyando's eyes widened.
"Can I?"
"Of course."
He handed the boy a small hammer.
"Hold this."
The child proudly accepted the responsibility.
Throughout the morning, Hamusonde entertained him with stories about the farm.
"Do you see that huge bull?"
Luyando nodded enthusiastically.
"His name is Mulele."
"He's very strong."
"Has he ever fought a lion?"
The old man laughed loudly.
"No."
"But he once chased a thief all the way to the river."
Luyando gasped.
"Really?"
"Every word."
Whether the story was true or not hardly mattered.
The little boy listened with complete fascination.
---
By late afternoon, Mubita returned home tired but deeply satisfied.
His boots were dusty.
His shirt clung to his back with sweat.
Yet his face shone with excitement.
Chipo met him outside.
"How was your day?"
He smiled broadly.
"I've never learned so much in a single day."
She laughed.
"Tell me everything."
As they sat beneath the mango tree, Mubita described every corner of the farm.
"The grazing land is enormous."
"The streams never dry completely."
"The fences are well maintained."
"And the cattle..."
He shook his head in amazement.
"They're magnificent."
Luyando interrupted excitedly.
"And I made a friend!"
"You did?"
"An old man!"
"He says one bull chased a thief!"
Mubita laughed.
"I'll have to hear that story myself."
That evening, everyone gathered once again for supper.
As they ate, Mr. Sikalima looked around the table.
"Tomorrow is Sunday."
Mubita looked up.
"Does that mean I begin work?"
The farmer smiled.
"Yes."
"The cattle will become your responsibility."
Mubita felt both excitement and nervousness.
"I won't let you down."
Mr. Sikalima nodded.
"I believe you."
Outside, the moon rose above the grazing fields, bathing the farm in silver light. The cattle rested peacefully in their kraals, unaware that a new shepherd would lead them with the morning sun.
For Mubita, tomorrow would not simply be another working day.
It would be the beginning of a responsibility that would shape the course of his family's future—and, in time, reveal strengths and weaknesses none of them yet understood.