In a village where rains were rare and the soil was stingy, life taught people early that every gift carried weight. When a child turned 18, the elders would gather, wrap a magical golden loaf of bread in palm leaves, and whisper:
“This bread is your portion for the future.
Eat as you need—but remember: what you don’t eat today will feed you tomorrow.”
No one knew how the magic worked. Some believed it multiplied when saved. Others believed it became strength, shelter, and sustenance in days of need.
But many, like Juma, didn’t think that far.
Juma was the boy with big laughter and an even bigger appetite for pleasure. He loved crowds, thrills, and lots of attention. When his turn came, he held the loaf like a prize. Warm. Fragrant. Almost glowing in the sun.
The elder’s hand lingered on his shoulder longer than the others.
“Don’t eat like today is all you have,” he said quietly.
“One day, you’ll need something deeper than hunger to survive.”
Juma nodded… but his mind was already distracted. The aroma made his stomach growl.
His friends surrounded him: “Bro! Break us a piece!” “Let’s celebrate!” So he did. He broke the crust and tasted sweetness he had never known.
“Just one bite,” he told himself.
But pleasure never stops at one.
By evening, the loaf was half gone. He gave some to a girl he wanted to impress. Some he threw to birds—laughing, feeling generous. While some crumbled in his pocket as he danced. “I have to live and breathe today,” he thought.
That night, he stared at the last piece.
He thought, “maybe I’ll save this…”
Then someone joked, “What’s the point? You can’t eat tomorrow’s dreams today.”
So he ate it.
All of it.
And fell asleep full.
Years passed.
The girl left. The friends faded. The fun turned into fatigue. And life… got hard. The rains didn’t come. Work became scarce. But living had to continue.
Many his age began drawing strength from the bread they had saved—invested, planted, preserved.
But Juma had none. No skill. No savings. No purpose. No portion.
He began walking to the elder’s hut, stomach aching, lips cracked, heart heavy. But halfway there, he sat down under a dry tree and wept. Thinking to himself.
Not because he was hungry now— but because he had been full once,
and didn’t think he’d ever need to be careful.
He saw now:
That every bite he wasted… was a tomorrow he robbed.
That pleasure is not evil, but when it becomes your guide, it will lead you to famine.
Pleasure is not evil, but when it becomes your guide, it will lead you to famine.
Moral Lessons?
We don’t destroy our future in a day. That would be shocking enough to realize and we’d easily desist from it. We chip it away—one careless choice at a time. A little waste here. A little indulgence there. A little “I’ll fix it later” that never arrives.
Short-term pleasure may fill you for a moment…but long-term regret will hunger you for years.
Reflection
Don’t eat all your “bread” now.
Save some. Sow some. Guard some.
The life you want later depends on what you choose today.
How far gone is your bread?
