Читать книгу Their Father’s Heirs - Cynthia Ekoh - Страница 7

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Zelophehad smiled as he approached the entrance of his tent and heard his daughters’ loud chatter and his mother’s nagging voice asking them to be quiet so she could hear the footsteps approaching their tent. He did not know how she did it, but his mother could tell with almost perfect precision the person approaching their tent by their footsteps. She knew when it was his or his siblings. She could tell if it was bad or good tidings that was coming with a footstep. He often took advantage of her forecast. He was always prepared for every visitor. His mother came out of the tent with his daughters and the first thing she said to him was, “Any word from the priest?” A feeling of annoyance began to well up inside him as he understood exactly what she was talking about. She had asked him this same question three years ago when he had returned with his wife and Hoglah, his third daughter. She could at least have started with welcoming them or asking how it went. But that was his mother, never one to waste time on pleasantries. She seemed to have gotten worse with age. His wife kissed his mother and quickly vanished into their tent, ushering the girls in with her as she mumbled something about feeding the baby. He knew how much his wife hated such confrontation, especially in the presence of their daughters. He schooled his expressions and scooped up his third daughter, Hoglah, laughing as she shouted in glee. He was always careful not to get into any heated argument with his mother in the presence of his children. He did not want them growing to think that they can talk back to their mother and him. He waited for them to enter the tent and then he turned to his mother with his worst scowl. When his mother saw the look in his eyes she reached out to touch him affectionately saying, “Well you know how much I am so concerned about you. You are my first son and I do not want you cheated. I had sons and all your brothers have sons so we know the source of this problem. All I am saying is that you should take another wife since she cannot give you a son.” This only made Zelophehad angrier and he wished for the umpteenth time that his mother would just go live with any of his siblings and get off his case. He had had just about enough. He replied to her slowly, “Imah, I have told you over and over that I would do anything to have a son but that. I love my wife and the girls. While I wait for a son, I will train my daughters to be strong, confident women who will make history in Israel.” His mother snorted. “How will they do that may I ask? Can they go to war and defend our nation? Can they give you sons that will carry on your name? You know they will be married off to some men and leave your house desolate.” “Imah!!!!” Zelophehad growled and walked away from his mother and his tent as she continued her tirade, shouting after him, “Don’t wait for a son, get a son you hear me.” Walking away briskly, he decided to go far away from the quadrangle of tents into the nearby wilderness to cool off. He tried hard all the time not to dishonor his mother even though she made him angry enough to do just that. He was determined to live a very long life. He would not allow his mother to cut it short for him by causing him to dishonor her. “What a day!” Zelophehad hissed under his breath. He had woken up to his wife’s tears early in the morning and had spent an hour convincing her that all was well with their family. She had feared that he was going to give in this time to his mother’s counsel and take another woman after their fourth girl. For the love of God, they were still in the middle of nowhere. No sight of the promised land. They were nomads moving from one valley and mountain to another at the dictates of Moses. His tent was already crowded with a wife, four daughters, and his mother. Why would he bring in another woman who may very well continue the tradition? He believed sons were gifts from YHWH and it had nothing to do with the woman. He had spent time this morning reassuring his wife, and now this conversation with his mother may very well have incited another bout of anxieties in his poor wife. His wife was not just his wife but was also kin. She was his second cousin. And even if she were no kin, he knew he would still love her and honor her as much. He did not even know her growing up until they were pledged to be married. It was his father who chose her after a careful search for the most suitable wife for his firstborn. His mother, sisters, and brothers had approved of her from the first day she was introduced to them as his wife. She had a wonderful relationship with his sisters and even his mother. Though he knew without a doubt that no woman could take her place with his family, nevertheless he was maintaining his stand to honor her. After all, Abraham refused to take another wife besides Sarah even without any child. And Abraham was their father. All he wanted was for his mother to understand and respect his decision. “I will continue to do what I know to do and wait for YHWH to smile down upon me with a son. And I hope very soon,” he said out loud, talking to himself. His situation appeared peculiar to him as he truly could not name another man in his tribe or other tribes facing this same dilemma. There must be at least one, he pondered. Many men in his age group had more than one wife, he realized, solely for this same reason—sons. Some in this bid had defiled many girls, something he refused to do. He was too honorable for that. “Jehovah will satisfy the desire of my heart. I am blessed to belong to the tribe of Manasseh. I am not the least of my brethren. My quivers are filled with sons. I will make it to the promised land and my inheritance will not be taken from me. . .” As he recited his favorite prayer lines, Zelophehad felt some calmness return to him. He decided to go by his olive groves and to see how Kish was doing and to get his mind off his unsettling thoughts.

On getting to his farm, he found Kish with his torso bare, sweating profusely as he worked. He watched him a while and as always felt compassion for the boy. He had bought him three years ago from his uncle, a very harsh man. His plan was to liberate him after six years as permitted by the law. That was the only way he could help the boy. Kish’s father, a Cushite slave, was bought many years ago by Zelophehad’s uncle who also gave him a crippled Hebrew girl for wife. Kish and his sister, the result of this union, had automatically belonged to their father’s master. Kish’s father had gotten his freedom after many years but was not allowed to leave with his family under the law. Kish had been devastated and adversely affected by his father abandoning them. He had become defiant, which had led to a lot of suffering at the hands of his master. He was always being flogged for one reason or another. On one occasion he was caught trying to run away and was given the beating of his life. It was at this point that Zelophehad came into the picture, bargaining with his uncle with much pleading for the boy. He had paid twice the price he was worth. His brothers and mother had teased him mercilessly. They credited his benevolence to his lack of a son. Maybe they were right, because every time he looked at the boy, fatherly emotions welled up. Maybe God will honor his good deed, a slave boy for a son. “Did you get off as much of the mildew as possible?” Kish straightened up and bowed in greeting. His face tanned by daily exposure to the sun made him look more like a Cushite than a Hebrew. “Take a break and go get something to drink and eat before you faint.” He did not stop what he was doing immediately as you would expect of a child his age but took his time to finish brushing off the mildew from the shrub he was dealing with. Neither did he show any excitement, which worried Zelophehad a great deal. He made sure he did not give Kish more work than was appropriate for a boy his age. He talked to him gently. He allowed him enough freedom to go and come as he liked, as he had allowed him to continue to live in his family tent with his mother and sister. Kish was not used to acts of kindness and no matter how Zelophehad tried to change his perception, the boy still did not trust people, especially men. “Go on. I said take a break. Go on home and get something to drink and eat. I will continue where you left off.” Kish was only fourteen but looked and behaved like a man. He was sturdy and muscular, scarred in the face and on his back. His forlorn looks of a beaten cub had Zelophehad’s heart melt every time he looked at him. In those black pebbled eyes was pain and sadness that should never have been his. He was too young. At his age Zelophehad remembered being carefree and happy. He strongly wanted to help him heal and learn to trust again. He had three more years to go and he would become a free Hebrew. His mother was one and he was being raised as a Hebrew. Zelophehad planned not only to give him his freedom but a life afterward if Kish would allow him. His mother and sister still officially belonged to Zelophehad’s uncle but he would help him redeem them. He hoped the boy will not take off in search of his father like he attempted before. If he did, there was nothing he could do to stop him as he would be a free man by then. He knew how he had been with his own father and could not imagine growing up without one.

They were battling with early signs of mildew attack and were trying to get rid of as many oil spots as possible from the foliage before they became powdery and messed up the berries. Zelophehad made a lot of money from olive oil, an essential commodity that was needed by all. Their lamps were fueled by olive oil. The tabernacle consumed half of their production because the lamps in the tabernacle must be kept lighted at all times. He was also planning to harvest some olive wood, which is valued for ornamental work, before they relocated. Because of their increasing stay at their camps nowadays, many of them were able to cultivate the land around them. Vineyards and olive groves were common, even though sometimes they would have to abandon farmlands before they could harvest their crops. Some people had simply refused to venture into farming because of this. For him, he would continue to plant just as they continued to marry and have children. His only setback was lack of enough hands. His wife who was his main help had been in confinement for eighty days, but thank God it was over now. He would begin to enjoy her company again on the farm.