THE VEIL OF DESTINY

CHAPTER FIVE

Beyond the Veil of Destiny – Chapter Five

(The Awakening)

The air around the market thickened with afternoon heat. The smell of grilled tilapia and smoke from nearby fires filled the air. Akua and Akwasi’s laughter faded into the soft hum of voices and the rustle of fabrics. Behind the counter, Maa Esi and Kasewa sat on low stools, their voices heavy with the weight of memory.

> “Hmm,” Kasewa sighed, fanning herself with a folded newspaper. “Life has really changed, my friend. Sometimes I ask God why struggle never ends.”

> “We all carry our crosses,” Maa Esi replied quietly. “But the Lord said in Psalm 34:19, ‘Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.’”

They both nodded, finding strength in the verse. Their laughter turned to quiet reflection as they spoke of the past — lost husbands, years of toil, and the unspoken fears every mother carries in her heart.

Inside the stall, Jojo slept peacefully against a sack of beans, the tortoise beside him. His dream began gently at first — a soft wind, the laughter of his family, the faint smell of home. But soon, the laughter faded into silence. The sky in his dream darkened like a storm.

Suddenly, he found himself standing in the middle of a dusty road. From a distance, a black Mercedes-Benz roared toward him, its headlights blazing like fire.

> “Watch out!” someone screamed.

Jojo turned — too late. The car struck him with a force that sent him spiraling into a blinding light.

Then came silence.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a vast, glowing field, filled with strange, golden mist. Everything shimmered as though touched by heaven’s light. Ahead of him stood a man — tall, bright, smiling gently.

Jojo’s heart pounded. “Dad…?”

The man stepped closer, his white cloth glowing like morning sunlight. It was his father — the one who had left them years ago.

> “Aww, my lovely son,” the man said softly. “Why have you done this to us? It’s not your time to be here.”

Tears stung Jojo’s eyes. “Dad, you left us. You made Mum cry every night. Why did you leave?”

The man’s expression changed to sorrow. “I didn’t leave you by choice, my son. Life is a path full of hidden doors, and sometimes, we walk through one without meaning to. But I have watched you. Your mother’s prayers kept you all safe.”

> “So… are you alive?” Jojo asked in confusion.

> “No, my son. I am at peace. But your time has not yet come. You have a purpose to fulfill — a light to carry for your brother and your mother. Go back.”

Jojo shook his head desperately. “No, I want to stay here. It feels warm here. It feels like home.”

The man smiled faintly. “The true home is not here yet. Go and live the life God gave you. Jeremiah 29:11 — ‘For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Remember this.”

He placed a hand on Jojo’s shoulder, and with a strong push, light flooded Jojo’s vision.

> “Go to the living, my son. You don’t belong here.”

Jojo screamed, “Nooooooo!”

---

He jolted awake with a loud cry.

> “Brother! Brother, calm down!” Akwasi shouted, rushing to his side.

Akua came running with a cup of water, trembling as she knelt beside him.

Jojo’s eyes darted wildly. “I saw Daddy! He was talking to me… he pushed me away!”

Kasewa and Maa Esi rushed in, alarmed.

> “What’s going on here?” they cried together.

> “We don’t know,” Akwasi said, his voice shaky. “He was sleeping, then suddenly screaming.”

Maa Esi pulled her son close. “Jojo, my child, it’s okay. It was only a dream.”

But Kasewa stood silently, her eyes narrowing with worry. “A dream like that can mean something deeper,” she said softly. “The old ones say when the dead visit, it’s a warning or a blessing. Either way, prayer is our weapon.”

She placed her hand on Jojo’s head and began to pray aloud:

> “Father Lord, we commit this child into Your hands. Whatever door the enemy opened, we shut it in Jesus’ name. As it is written in Psalm 91:11: ‘For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.’”

The small group bowed their heads, the market noise fading outside as their prayer rose like incense.

When it was over, Jojo leaned against his mother, still pale but calm. “Mummy, he said I have a purpose… that God has plans for me.”

Tears rolled down Maa Esi’s cheeks. “And He truly does, my son. He truly does.”

---

The afternoon sun began to fade, casting long shadows over the market.

Maa Esi stood and dusted her wrapper. “My friend, we should start heading home. I have to buy some ingredients and check my customers before it gets dark. Prices change like the wind these days.”

> “Ah, that’s true,” said Kasewa. “It was good seeing you again, Esi. May the Lord bless your path.”

She turned to Akua. “My daughter, go and walk them to the roadside.”

Akwasi and Akua exchanged a quiet glance — the kind that carried friendship, gratitude, and the innocence of something yet to be understood.

> “Goodbye, Akua,” Akwasi said softly.

> “Goodbye, my friend. May God keep you safe.”

As they walked away, the air grew still for a moment, as if the market itself paused to listen to the distant sound of their laughter fading.

---

That night, as Kasewa closed her stall, she noticed Akua sitting silently, her gaze lost in thought.

> “Akua, my child, are you alright?”

Akua nodded faintly. “Yes, Ma. I was just thinking about Akwasi and his brother. They’re so full of life. I pray I can go back to school one day like them.”

Kasewa walked over, resting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You will, my dear. Everything has its season. The Bible says in Ecclesiastes 3:1: ‘To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.’ Your time will come.”

She hugged her daughter, whispering softly, “Keep your faith, no matter how hard things get. God always makes a way.”

Outside, thunder rumbled faintly across the hills — the sign of rain approaching. The market women hurriedly packed up, laughter and shouts echoing into the twilight.

Somewhere in the crowd, the faint voice of a preacher rang out through a small speaker:

> “Brethren, life is a mist — here today, gone tomorrow. Let your heart be right with God!”

Akua looked toward the sound, feeling something stir within her — hope, conviction, maybe both.

She turned to help her mother with the last of the baskets. The tortoise, now calm, sat quietly in its woven home, its shell reflecting the dim orange glow of the setting sun.

---

That night, back at home, Maa Esi sat beside Jojo as he slept peacefully. The memory of his scream still echoed in her heart, but now she understood — it wasn’t a nightmare, it was a message.

She looked toward the open window, where the stars shone brightly. “Lord,” she whispered, “thank You for sparing my son. Thank You for reminding me that every moment counts.”

Akwasi peeked through the doorway and asked, “Mummy, can I sleep beside Jojo tonight?”

> “Of course,” she smiled. “He’ll be happy to have you near.”

As the two boys settled under one blanket, Jojo murmured softly in his sleep, “Daddy said God has plans for us…”

Maa Esi closed her eyes, tears slipping quietly down her face. “Yes, my son,” she whispered. “He surely does.”

And as the rain began to fall gently on the roof, washing the dust from the earth, peace finally settled over the small home — a peace that whispered of hope, faith, and the mysterious ways in which God speaks beyond the veil of destiny.