The morning sun rose gently over the farmland, casting golden light on the roofs of Samuel's house and the nearby barn. Birds chirped from the trees, and the smell of roasted maize drifted from somewhere far in the distance. Grace was already awake, bustling about as she packed some goods into woven baskets. Ruth and Mary danced around her, full of excitement about the trip to the market.
I stepped out of the guest room, adjusting the plain shirt Samuel had lent me. The air was cool and refreshing, but within me was a strong sense of expectation. Today was no ordinary day. It was the beginning of my public encounter in this strange future world.
Samuel appeared with a calm smile. He carried two baskets of yams on his shoulders, while Grace balanced another on her head. The children followed closely, Ruth holding a small basket of vegetables while Mary clutched her doll.
"Alfred," Samuel called, "are you ready?"
"Yes," I answered. "I will go wherever you lead."
We walked together toward the market, which was not too far from the farmland. The road was dusty but well-trodden, and we passed other farmers and families carrying their own goods. As we moved, Ruth skipped beside me and asked innocent questions about my past. I answered gently, making sure not to reveal too much too soon. Grace listened silently, while Samuel kept his eyes forward, lost in thought.
When we finally arrived, the market was already alive with activity. Traders shouted the prices of their goods, buyers bargained loudly, and the smell of fried food filled the air. The noise and the crowd reminded me of the marketplaces of my own time, though here everything seemed more modern yet strangely familiar.
Samuel led us to a small spot beneath a large tree, where he and Grace arranged their yams and vegetables for display. Ruth and Mary sat beside the baskets, playing quietly while watching the people pass by.
"Alfred," Samuel said as he placed the last yam on the mat, "it would be good for you to walk around and see the market. You are new here, and it may help you learn about the people. But remember, do not draw too much attention."
I nodded in agreement and began to stroll through the market. Everywhere I turned, I saw faces filled with different emotions—some joyful, some weary, and some hardened by life's struggles. My heart ached, for I could feel the weight of their burdens. I knew my mission was to prepare such people for the time that was coming.
As I walked, I passed by a group of young men who were arguing loudly about politics. Their words were sharp, their tempers hot, and I could sense division among them. A few steps further, I saw an old woman selling herbs, her eyes tired yet hopeful as she called out to passing buyers.
Then, as I turned a corner, a sudden commotion drew my attention. A boy had been accused of stealing bread from a stall. The seller, a tall man with a stern face, grabbed the boy by the arm and shouted angrily. A small crowd gathered, and the boy, not more than ten years old, trembled in fear as he cried.
Something within me would not allow me to remain silent. I stepped forward, and with a calm but firm voice I said, "Please, release the boy. Show him mercy."
The seller turned sharply toward me. "Who are you to interfere? This thief must be punished!"
The boy looked at me with pleading eyes, tears streaming down his face. I walked closer and gently placed my hand on the seller's arm. "Listen," I said, "even if he has done wrong, anger will not heal him. Let him go this once, and he may learn a lesson greater than punishment can give."
The crowd murmured among themselves. Some agreed with me, while others sided with the seller. The man studied my face for a long moment. For reasons he himself did not seem to understand, his grip on the boy loosened, and finally, he let the boy go.
The child ran off into the crowd, shouting words of thanks. The people around us looked at me strangely, as though they sensed something unusual. The seller, still staring, finally said, "You speak with a voice that carries weight. I don't know who you are, but I feel there is more to you than meets the eye."
I bowed slightly and walked away before the attention grew too strong. My heart pounded, for I knew Gabriel's words were coming to pass—opportunities would arise for me to sow seeds of the message I carried.
When I returned to Samuel's stall, Ruth rushed toward me. "Uncle Alfred, we saw you! You helped the boy!" Her eyes sparkled with admiration.
Samuel looked at me with a mixture of surprise and concern. "I told you not to draw attention," he said in a low voice.
"I did not plan it," I replied gently. "But I could not stand by and watch injustice."
Grace, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "Perhaps God truly sent him, Samuel. Not everyone would have the courage to do what he did."
Samuel sighed deeply but said nothing more. He simply returned to arranging the goods. Yet I could sense that something had shifted in his heart.
As the day went on, more buyers came to their stall, and business went well. By afternoon, most of the yams and vegetables were sold. We packed the baskets and prepared to leave. Just as we were about to go, an old man approached me. His back was bent with age, and his walking stick shook slightly as he leaned on it.
"Young man," he said with a raspy voice, "I watched what you did for that boy earlier. I have lived many years and seen many faces, but there is something in your eyes that is not ordinary. Tell me, who are you?"
His question pierced me deeply. For a moment, I wondered if I should reveal my true origin. But remembering Gabriel's warning, I chose my words carefully.
"I am only a servant," I said softly, "sent to remind people that life is short, and the time of God's judgment draws near. Prepare your heart, old father, for the days ahead will not be easy."
The old man's eyes widened, and he nodded slowly. "I believe you," he whispered. Then he walked away, leaning heavily on his stick.
Samuel, who had overheard, shook his head again. "Alfred, you are walking a dangerous path. If you speak like this openly, people may call you mad—or worse. You must be careful."
"I understand," I replied. "But the truth cannot remain hidden forever."
As we walked back home, the children sang cheerfully, and Grace carried a lighter step. Samuel remained silent most of the way, deep in thought.
When we reached the house, the sun was already setting. I helped unload the baskets and then excused myself to the guest room. There I knelt to pray. As I closed my eyes, a vision appeared before me. I saw the same angel Gabriel, his golden eyes shining like fire. His voice echoed in my soul, saying, "Well done, Alfred. Today was the first step. Do not fear the eyes of men. In due time, more doors will open, and you will speak with boldness. Remember, twenty-eight days is nearer than it seems."
The vision faded, and I opened my eyes, trembling yet strengthened. I knew the journey had only just begun.