It had changed. But then, that was only natural. It had survived a terrible famine: ironical that Bethlehem, house of bread, should face a food crisis. Add to that the fact that she had been gone for a few years shy of one score. Naomi looked at the fatigued young woman with her: she was visibly tired but trying very hard not to show it. She was a fighter, this one. She had not complained once on the way. And they had trekked one score and five miles over a period of six days.
From the outcrop where they stood she stared at Bethlehem. It lay beautiful in the early afternoon sunlight. The green of figs, olives and firs blending with the brown of the wind-swept earth, and contrasting with the gold-green and brown of patches of farmland sowed with row upon row of barley and wheat. She remembered a time, in another lifetime, when it was she and her husband with the boys working the fields about this time and counting down to when they would harvest the ripe ears of corn.
He had been a wonderful man, her husband, a king worthy of any queen. May be it had something to do with his name, Elimelech (My God is king) or his nature or the way he was brought up. It might even have been a combination of any or all. Whichever it was, she recalled women seeking her companionship and counsel because of the way he treated her in public and in private. She was quite the toast of other daughters of Zion. Even other men acknowledged that they had a happy home. Even if they were reluctant to attribute it to her, they could not dismiss it.
Presently, she edged out of her reverie. She had not come this far to moon.
They walked into town. She smelled the peculiar smell of the land of her birth–almonds and aloes and dust. Without warning her tear ducts overflowed, she had missed this place.
It had been she and Eli’s decision to leave for Moab when the famine had become unbearable. The idea was to stay there till things improved back home and return.
The sojourn had been far from ideal. Yet they had remained. The condition that drove them away still subsisted. If only they had any inkling as to what was next…
One day, Eli came back from the field unusually exhausted. He asked her to set out water; he wanted to bathe before anything else. After that he went into the house and lay on the bed to wait for the kid stew she was making. He began to feel hot and cold at the same time, he covered himself with cloth. He was still covered when she went to call him to eat, by this time he was burning with fever, yet, he wouldn’t take away the cloth. The fever broke by the 3rd watch, by the morning he was dead. They laid him to rest there, in a strange land. Of the two, she could not decide which hurt more. They remained. And her boys got married to two wonderful ladies–Ruth and Orpah. She began looking forward to her grandchildren. Ten years after their father’s demise, Mahlon and Kilion died in the fields, at the same hour. One shot through with an arrow, the other speared. They had both died childless. They had been brought home for her to bury, their young widows had been too distraught to be of any real help.
It was from that day she began to loathe Moab. It had taken all her men from her. It was their fault really; they should never have come there in the first instance. Hadn’t The Lord warned Yisrael never to allow anyone from Moab, or their descendants, into their worship meetings? Their family had disobeyed–they had not let them in, they had gone to join them–and paid the price.
It was those in the fields who first saw her and whispered it to others, ‘Naomi is back.’ Before long, a crowd of women and children had gathered. Some who knew her ran to her and welcomed her. Kisses, hugs and tears proliferated. Presently someone brought out a timbrel and began singing, others joined in. She was moved. She appreciated the gesture but with tears in her eyes she said,
“My name is not Naomi. There is no pleasantness here, she touched her paps. Call me Mara, bitterness; the Lord has made my life very sad.”
Some Months Later They had almost completely settled in. The people of Yisrael were nothing if not accommodating. Folks had gone out of their ways to treat them graciously. In the days succeeding their return, one person or the other was always dropping by, checking on them, wanting to know if they needed anything. None of them came empty-handed. At some point, she had to start looking for others to share the largesse with–it was just too much for two widows.
It was almost as if she had never left judging from the manner in which she had been accepted. Even the farmlands, held in trust, had reverted to her the day after their return. Eli’s next of kin who had been caretaker had only requested that he be allowed to harvest the crops planted. Naomi rather than stay idle went back to wool weaving. She had learnt how to in Moab, and wove beautifully. Ruth had a dual role–help with the weaving; deliver finished products to those who had ordered.
Things were really looking up and they were thankful. There was one challenge: Ruth. Something had to be done about her. She was the most hardworking maiden in the clan, very respectful and kind. Not forgetting that she was beautiful, in a windflower, non-Jewish way that set her apart from others. There could not be many like her in all twelve tribes. She had to find her a home, ensure she was settled. Better still, she would offer a sacrifice and trust The Lord to sort this out. In the meantime, she closed her eyes whispered and a prayer.
Kinsmen were seated in a semi-circle. Every family head of the Ephratha clan was there except Boaz–who was without doubt the wealthiest. Barley harvest was upon them and they had come to discuss with Naomi what they could do to help her. Each was willing to have the two women work in their farms, if she consented. There was also the issue of how she was going to cultivate her own farmland the next season. Then there was the question of a house, the makeshift structure they were living in was pro tem.
They left the knottiest issue for last. By law, one of them would marry her and raise a seed for the dead. But they were almost all married. More importantly, she was… well, age was no longer on her side. It was a tough call. Naomi did not allow the matter to linger–and become embarrassing as it was wont to. When it finally, meanderingly, came up, she asked them not to bother. She had made up her mind to remain a widow, and honour her husband’s memory. Her response ushered in a hiatus, no one was sure how best to continue the meeting or end it.
Ruth chose that moment to walk in. She had gone to drop off a robe and a shawl for one man and his new bride. Standing a head taller than most men, she had a unique way of slowly placing one foot in front of the other that emphasized her regal bearing. Her petite frame belied the fact that she had ever been married. Her entrance turned up the temperature a notch. Only two people were able to respond to her ‘shalom.’ It was not just the unwed men who were enthralled by her mien, the married were not exempted–they were trying so hard to focus on anything but her. Naomi beheld it all. And in the darkest crevice of her heart, a seed burst into life with an explosion of light. Suddenly she knew, with a terrifying certainty, that everything would be fine. A sliver of that light wormed its way through a labyrinthine passage to her visage and pulled the corners of mouth widely apart in a smile. It was the first heartfelt one in a very long while. She was home.
© 2015 John Chidi
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