Searched For Ukpe Chukwu By Power Nancy - Highlifeng - You

“But Papa, I prayed! I sowed! Where is God’s step?” Chidi cried.

Chidi wanted to throw a clod of dirt at them. But instead, he listened. Really listened.

“Ukpe Chukwu, o di ka mmiri na-agba n’ala—olu oma na-abịa n’oge ya.” (The step of God is like water sinking into the earth—good news comes at its own time.)

Every evening, Chidi would sit on his veranda, listening to the village elders debate. One night, the old gramophone from the village square crackled to life with a new song by Power Nancy: Ukpe Chukwu .

He poured the chemicals onto his yam mounds. For two weeks, the leaves grew huge and green. Chidi smiled. “See? No waiting needed.”

Months passed. The rains came—not early, but exactly when the soil was ready. The yams grew deep, not fast. And one evening, as the sun set orange and heavy, Nkechi called out from the kitchen.

“You fought against time, my son,” Papa said without looking up. “But time is not your enemy. Impatience is.”

Chidi went home and apologized to his wife, Nkechi, for the stress he had caused. Together, they decided to do things the slow, faithful way. They cleared a small plot. They planted native seeds. They watered by hand. They sang Ukpe Chukwu as they worked, not as a complaint, but as a prayer.

“But Papa, I prayed! I sowed! Where is God’s step?” Chidi cried.

Chidi wanted to throw a clod of dirt at them. But instead, he listened. Really listened.

“Ukpe Chukwu, o di ka mmiri na-agba n’ala—olu oma na-abịa n’oge ya.” (The step of God is like water sinking into the earth—good news comes at its own time.)

Every evening, Chidi would sit on his veranda, listening to the village elders debate. One night, the old gramophone from the village square crackled to life with a new song by Power Nancy: Ukpe Chukwu .

He poured the chemicals onto his yam mounds. For two weeks, the leaves grew huge and green. Chidi smiled. “See? No waiting needed.”

Months passed. The rains came—not early, but exactly when the soil was ready. The yams grew deep, not fast. And one evening, as the sun set orange and heavy, Nkechi called out from the kitchen.

“You fought against time, my son,” Papa said without looking up. “But time is not your enemy. Impatience is.”

Chidi went home and apologized to his wife, Nkechi, for the stress he had caused. Together, they decided to do things the slow, faithful way. They cleared a small plot. They planted native seeds. They watered by hand. They sang Ukpe Chukwu as they worked, not as a complaint, but as a prayer.