The farm was wrapped in silence when Mubita opened his eyes.
For a brief moment, he forgot where he was. Then he heard the familiar lowing of cattle drifting through the cool morning air, followed by the cheerful songs of guinea fowl hidden among the tall grass. A smile spread across his face.
Today was different.
Today was his first official day as the shepherd of Mr. Sikalima's herd.
He quietly dressed in his faded blue overalls and sturdy leather boots before stepping outside. The eastern sky was still dark, but a faint orange glow was beginning to appear beyond the distant hills.
The air was crisp, carrying the sweet scent of wet grass from the previous night's dew.
Standing on the veranda, Mubita closed his eyes for a moment and whispered a prayer.
"Lord, thank You for this opportunity. Give me wisdom to care for these animals and honesty in everything I do. Help me never to betray the trust this family has placed in me. Amen."
As he finished praying, he heard footsteps behind him.
It was Chipo.
She carried a steaming mug of tea and a small plate of roasted sweet potatoes.
"I knew you wouldn't eat unless someone reminded you," she teased.
Mubita laughed softly.
"You know me too well."
"I've been your wife long enough."
She handed him the breakfast.
"You'll need your strength today."
He accepted it gratefully.
"Thank you."
She studied his face for a moment.
"Are you nervous?"
"A little."
"You've looked after cattle before."
"Yes."
"But never this many."
She smiled reassuringly.
"You'll do well."
"I hope so."
She gently adjusted the collar of his shirt.
"My father used to say that confidence grows from preparation."
"And you've prepared."
Mubita nodded.
"I have."
---
A few minutes later, Mr. Sikalima appeared carrying a long coiled rope over one shoulder.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, sir."
"Ready?"
"Very ready."
The farmer smiled.
"Let's fetch the herd."
They walked together toward the kraal where hundreds of cattle rested peacefully.
Some lifted their heads as the two men approached.
Others continued chewing cud lazily.
Mr. Sikalima unlocked the heavy wooden gate.
Before opening it completely, he turned to Mubita.
"Remember something important."
"Yes, sir?"
"Cattle can sense fear."
Mubita listened carefully.
"If you become angry..."
"They become restless."
"If you panic..."
"They panic."
"If you remain calm..."
"They trust you."
"I understand."
Mr. Sikalima smiled.
"My grandfather always said, 'The shepherd's heart becomes the heartbeat of the herd.'"
Mubita nodded thoughtfully.
"I'll remember."
The gate swung open.
Slowly, the cattle began walking out.
There was no shouting.
No beating.
Only soft whistles and gentle commands.
"Easy..."
"Come on..."
"This way..."
Mubita was impressed.
Back in his village, many shepherds relied on sticks and loud voices.
Mr. Sikalima hardly raised his voice at all.
"They know you," Mubita observed.
"They know kindness," the farmer replied.
"And animals never forget how they're treated."
---
The herd moved steadily across the open plains toward the eastern grazing fields.
The rising sun bathed the grasslands in brilliant shades of gold.
Thousands of tiny dew drops sparkled like diamonds beneath the morning light.
Several impalas bounded gracefully across the distant hills.
A pair of crowned cranes flew overhead.
Mubita had never seen such beauty.
As they walked, Mr. Sikalima continued teaching.
"See that cow?"
He pointed toward a reddish-brown animal.
"That's Nanduba."
"She'll calve next month."
"And that black bull?"
"Kafue."
"He likes wandering."
"Keep an eye on him."
Mubita carefully memorized every animal.
Soon he realised that Mr. Sikalima knew every single cow by name.
"You remember all of them?"
The farmer chuckled.
"They've been part of my family for years."
---
Around mid-morning, they reached a wide grazing area covered with fresh green grass.
"This will do," Mr. Sikalima said.
The cattle immediately spread out to feed peacefully.
The farmer sat beneath a large acacia tree.
"You'll discover that shepherding isn't only walking."
"It's watching."
Mubita sat beside him.
"What should I watch for?"
"Everything."
He began counting on his fingers.
"A limping animal."
"One that refuses to eat."
"Strange behaviour."
"Fresh footprints."
"Broken fences."
"Storm clouds."
"Wild animals."
"Even silence."
Mubita looked puzzled.
"Silence?"
The farmer nodded.
"A peaceful herd always makes noise."
"They chew."
"They call to each other."
"Calves play."
"But when they suddenly become silent..."
He looked across the field.
"Something has frightened them."
Mubita felt as though he were attending a university of farming.
Every lesson carried years of experience.
---
Back at the farmhouse, Chipo had begun helping Mrs. Bwalya prepare lunch after returning from church.
Since the Sikalimas attended the early service, they had arrived before midday.
As they peeled vegetables together, Mrs. Bwalya asked gently,
"How are you settling in?"
"I feel happier than I have in a long time."
"I'm glad."
She stirred a pot of pumpkin leaves.
"I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Yes?"
"What dreams do you have?"
Chipo looked surprised.
"My dreams?"
"Yes."
Most people had never asked her that question.
She thought for a moment.
"I'd like Luyando to receive a good education."
Mrs. Bwalya smiled.
"A wonderful dream."
"I don't want him to struggle the way we have."
"You won't."
"You sound certain."
"I've learned that God often opens doors through people."
She looked toward the grazing fields.
"Perhaps this farm is one of those doors."
---
Late in the afternoon, Mubita successfully guided the cattle back toward the kraal.
Not a single animal was missing.
Not one had been injured.
As they entered through the gate, Mr. Sikalima quietly counted them.
When he finished, he smiled broadly.
"Excellent."
Mubita exhaled with relief.
"I kept checking every few minutes."
"I noticed."
"Were you testing me?"
The farmer laughed.
"Every first day is a test."
"And?"
"You passed."
Mubita grinned.
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Sikalima placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Remember..."
"A good shepherd doesn't become great in one day."
"He becomes great by repeating good habits every day."
"I'll never forget that."
As the sun disappeared behind the distant hills, the farm settled into another peaceful evening.
Inside their little house, Chipo prepared supper while Luyando excitedly told her stories about feeding chickens and chasing butterflies.
For the first time in many years, the young family ended the day with full stomachs, hopeful hearts, and the comforting belief that they had finally found a place where they belonged.
None of them noticed the small seeds of future conflict already beginning to take root—not through anger or betrayal, but through the quiet pressures of responsibility, long working hours, and the hidden burdens each carried within their hearts.