Her mother blinked, confused. Wait, he gave you money? Just like that? Naomi nodded. Yes, he was kind.
He said his name is Ogre Johnson. For a moment, the room was quiet. Then her mother sat down slowly.
“God bless that man,” she whispered. “A stranger helped my daughter when even we had nothing.”
“Naomi, we must go and thank him. This kind of kindness is rare.” Naomi smiled.
“Yes, Mom. I want to thank him, too. I promised him that I won’t forget him.
When I become rich, I’ll look for him and help him.” Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder.
And I believe you, daughter. God will help you. While Naomi and her mother were planning to visit Ogre Johnson to thank him, something terrible was already happening on his side.
That morning, Johnson was sitting quietly in his small shoemakaker shed by the roadside. He had a few handmade slippers placed on the table.
Business was slow, but his heart was still full of hope that he would soon find customers.
Suddenly, he heard loud noises. People were shouting. Big trucks and men wearing uniforms were coming down the road.
One of the men held a megaphone and shouted, “All roadside stalls and sheds must be removed.
This is government land, you were warned.” Before he could even pack his things, they started pulling down his shed.
His handmade shoes and slippers, along with the ones customers gave him to fix, scattered all over the ground.
His old umbrella was thrown aside. He begged them, “Please wait. Let me pack my goods.
But no one listened. They pushed and broke the wooden shed completely. Johnson stood, his eyes filled with tears as he watched everything he owned destroyed in minutes.
Where will I sell now? His eyes glistened with unshed tears. How will I feed my grandson?
The women beside him were also crying and begging, but it was too late. The trucks had already moved to the next street.
Johnson carried his small hammer and walked home slowly under the hot sun. His slippers were dusty and his heart was heavy.
