He closed the notebook. “You are not arguing over water. You are arguing over forgotten gratitude.”
Peter looked up. “I am where I am needed,” he replied. And he returned to his listening—because he knew that every quarrel, every kindness, every forgotten promise was just another story waiting to be remembered. Peter Kalangu Balesa Baluluma
The silence stretched. Then the Mang’ombe elder let out a long breath. “The boy speaks true. I remember my father telling of the cow.” He closed the notebook