THE FARMER AND THE GHOST
Fr. Dr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Ãmos| August 21, 2025
Long ago, in the heart of Esan land, there lived a humble farmer, a man of sweat and soil, who tilled the earth with patience. At the break of the planting season, he rose with the cock’s crow, cutlass in hand, and cleared two hectares of bush for his yam farm. But when he returned the next morning, behold!—another two hectares had been cleared, fresh and neat, as if unseen hands had labored through the night. The farmer marveled, blessed the mysterious helper, and pressed on. When he stomped two heaps, he returned to find four; when he planted yam, his planting was doubled; when he harvested, his harvest was doubled; when he stored the yams in the barn, the barn swelled with plenty. Always, an invisible companion toiled beside him.
Yet when the season’s work was ended and abundance filled his yam barns, the farmer’s heart turned suspicious. He devised a plan: to set a trap for this possible unseen worker, to seize him before the sharing of the plenty. That night, the ghost returned as he had always done. But finding a trap in the barn, he lifted his voice and sang: “When you cleared, I cleared with you. When you planted, I planted with you. When you harvested, I harvested with you. But now it is time to eat, you set a trap for me!” The ghost lamented, yet no trap can hold a spirit, and with that, he vanished. The farmer was left alone with his barns, full of yam yet empty of grace.
This story is more than folklore; it is a mirror of human ingratitude. The farmer forgot that his abundance was not the fruit of his labour alone but of unseen collaboration. How often do we benefit from un/seen hands—family, friends, strangers, or even God Himself—yet when the season of harvest comes, our first instinct is suspicion, self-preservation, and betrayal? In our own time, many reap from collective efforts but claim the glory alone. The lesson is sharp: ingratitude severs the channels of blessing, leaving one with plenty to eat but no joy to share.
The ghost was not merely a helper; he was a silent covenant-partner in the farmer’s journey from bush to barn. Yet at the moment of sharing, trust was broken by the trap. Today, in workplaces, communities, and especially in politics, we see the same betrayal—men who were once ordinary suddenly “become big,” and at once they change class, cut off old companions, stop taking calls, and even rewrite their histories to exclude the friends and helpers who carried them through their lean days. Betrayal poisons abundance; it multiplies harvest but subtracts peace.
The ghost also symbolizes grace—divine providence, invisible yet active. But when men forget the unseen Giver and focus only on the gift, they fall into folly. Like the farmer, they set traps for the very source of their blessing, trying to control what is meant to be freely received. Today, many who were lifted by God cease to come to church, they complain of “no time,” they distance themselves from the God who graced their rise. But just as the ghost never returned the next farming season, so too will the river that forgets its source surely run dry.
He who eats but forgets the farm, will one day eat from an empty plate
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