“What Fools Think About Food.”
In the small town of Mubere, there was a group of men who met every evening under the mango tree near the marketplace. They called themselves “The Wise Council,” though everyone else in town called them “The Fools.”
One evening, as the sun melted behind the hills, the talk turned to food.
“I say,” began Kato, the self-proclaimed chairman, “food is proof that God loves the rich more. Why else would he give them meat while we chew cassava every day?”
The others nodded wisely, mouths full of roasted maize.
But old Ssemanda, the quietest among them, said, “Maybe God gives everyone food — only fools forget to plant.”
They laughed at him. “Ha! You talk like a farmer!” said Kato. “We talk about food, not farming!”
The next week, the market was empty — no maize, no cassava, no beans. A drought had come, and even the rich could not buy what wasn’t there.
Hungry and thin, the “Wise Council” sat again under the mango tree, staring at the dry earth.
Kato muttered, “Maybe the fool was right.”
And old Ssemanda smiled, peeling the last roasted yam from his pocket. “Fools think food comes from heaven,” he said. “The wise know it comes from their hands.”