The next community on Uzo's list was Umuakachi, a place with deep roots and older voices. It was not far from the Centre, but it felt like stepping into another rhythm of time. The streets were narrower, the buildings older, and the way people looked at you lasted a little longer than usual.
Uzo and Adaeze arrived in the early afternoon with their usual forms and quiet determination. A local volunteer had already been placed there, but she had warned them days before that they might face resistance.
"It is not about you," she had said. "The people here are protective. Outsiders have come before, and left us more confused than helped."
Uzo understood. Trust could not be demanded. It had to be earned.
As they entered the small compound where the community council usually met, they were greeted by silence. Two elderly men sat under a tree, talking in low voices. A group of women were peeling cassava nearby but did not look up.
Uzo greeted everyone gently. A few nodded. Most did not.
They waited patiently until one of the elders called them forward. His name was Chief Okwara. He wore a white shirt, a walking stick by his side, and eyes that carried many years of leadership.
"You are the ones they sent," he said.
Uzo stepped forward. "Yes sir. We are here to listen and learn. To support what is already here, not to bring noise."
The chief looked at him with a long silence.
"Do you know how many times we have heard that?"
Uzo nodded. "More than once, I am sure. But I did not come here to repeat the past. I came to ask how we can move forward together."
The chief leaned back slightly. "And what makes you think you are ready to lead such a move?"
Uzo paused. Then he said, "Because I am not leading it alone. I am only one of many who are choosing to serve with patience."
There was another silence. This one softer.
Still, the chief was not easily convinced.
"You want to speak to our youth. Fine. But you will do it on our terms. No form. No camera. No loud promises. You will sit with them. Eat what they eat. Speak the way they speak. If you can be part of them, then maybe they will open up."
Uzo smiled. "I would be honored."
That evening, he returned alone to Umuakachi. He did not wear his Centre badge. He did not bring his folder.
He simply walked. Sat. Listened.
He helped a boy carry a bucket of water. He joined a group of young men at the carpenter's shade. They asked him where he was from. What he was doing in their part of town. He answered simply.
"I am here because something needs to change. And I believe that change starts with respect."
The words settled among them slowly. Like seeds finding soft soil.
One of the boys, Chika, said, "Most people just come and talk. You are the first person to sit."
Uzo nodded. "Sometimes the only way to rise is to sit first."
He continued visiting the community every day for the rest of the week.
He sat under trees. He helped sweep after market hours. He shared meals with strangers. Some laughed at him. Others watched from a distance. But every day, the gap between them shrank.
On Friday, Chief Okwara sent for him.
"You have walked among us," the chief said. "Now you may speak to us."
Uzo stood quietly, hands at his sides.
"I have no big speech," he said. "I have only what I have heard. That the youth here want space to grow. That they want to be seen for more than their poverty. That they want to learn but also be respected for what they already know."
The chief nodded slowly.
"You listened well."
Uzo lowered his eyes with humility. "Thank you."
"Come again next week," the chief said. "This time with your team. We will open the door fully."
That night, Uzo returned to his room and sat for a long time on the floor, notebook open but empty.
He was too full to write.
The resistance had been real. The test had been quiet, but strong. And yet, he had walked through it. Not by force. Not with pride. But with steady courage and reverence for the people he came to serve.
He looked up at the ceiling and whispered aloud, just a few words that held his whole heart.
Thank You for helping me listen.