To the Dust You Shall Return: The Farmer Who Grew Everything Except His Own Pain

By Mpundu Valerie

Disclaimer: This personal story is shared for cancer awareness only and is not medical advice. Please seek early medical attention at your clinic if you experience persistent or concerning symptoms.

Morgan was the kind of man who would plant anything 'paruware,' and it would grow. His hands were gifted. We never lacked anything.

My husband was a provider, caring and loving, who understood the importance of land. As a city girl, I had never pictured myself in the field. Well, that was before Morgan came and snatched the city lights out of me.

Everyone in my family was surprised by a typical city girl settling for a farm boy. Interventions were done. They thought I was being manipulated, had lost my mind.

But I was only in love and would give up anything just to be with Morgan, who had told me, "In 5 years, I will change your life". Young, naive, and ambitious, I thought if I was to achieve greatness by 25, then Forbes was surely going to land in Murehwa.

Well, his idea of changing me lay in the land. At first I was hesitant. I didn't like the sun, I didn't like mud. My beloved husband had structured our home in a modern way. It's the field I didn't like. He never forced me, he just kept saying, "One day, some day, if not soon, the Lord will open your eyes, you will realise what gold we have in land, my beautiful wife. Remain loved."

Years went by. Morgan became an agrarian legend, extensively practising horticulture. The man knew what he wanted, and there was always surplus. We never lacked.

Cabbages, tomatoes, beetroot, onions, butternuts, covo, bell peppers... whatever he sowed to the ground grew. Even stone! He took care of his crops like they were his children. Wherever he noticed an attack on his plants, he strapped on the knapsack, mixed pesticides sometimes with bare hands, no mask, no gloves. "Ndajaira," he would say.

He never listened when you told him someone was coming to spray the whole field. He would go in before the guys came. You couldn't talk him out of it.

But last year, something else started surviving in his body.

A small painless lump on the left side of his neck. No pain. He thought maybe a red spider mite had bitten him. We settled for mumps.

Then another in the armpit. Then night sweats he would wake up with his shirt soaked even in the coldest July winter. Weight was falling off despite eating normally. He grew weary day by day. Yet still he wouldn't stop going into the fields, no matter how many times I warned him.

I had to literally beg him:

_"Hekani Makombe

Maita Makombe akakomberedza nyika

Maita wari Barwe

Gwindingwi guru

Kuziwa kwenyu Nyanguru

Zvaitwa Nguruve

Chirema

Mutakurwa

Wane muromo unenge gombe rekucheresa mvura...."_

Then we went to the clinic. Antibiotics were given. The lump didn't go away.

That is the classic trap of Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma (NHL).

NHL is a group of blood cancers that start in the lymphatic system, the body's infection-fighting network. It happens when white blood cells called lymphocytes get a genetic mistake, multiply fast, and live longer than they should. It can be slow- or fast-growing and has over 70 subtypes.

Common signs: painless swollen lymph nodes in the neck, armpit, or groin, persistent unexplained fevers, drenching night sweats, unintended weight loss, extreme fatigue, itchy skin. It is diagnosed by physical exam, blood tests, scans, and a definitive biopsy. Risk is linked to immune weakness, certain infections, and prolonged exposure to certain chemicals, pesticides, weed killers, and benzene have been associated with elevated risk.

The cancer grew. I watched my husband suffer. Persistent unexplained fevers, drenching night sweats, extreme fatigue. Sometimes he would scratch all over, his skin was itchy. He lost weight. He grew to half his size.

This is the time my chapter 37 was questioned in sickness and in health. I questioned every decision I had made before the day everything started changing. I knelt and asked for strength. Yes, he had created a life for us, but a life without him was unbearable not only for me, but for our 4 children and everybody else who knew him.

I prayed for healing, but when God decides your case, you can't appeal.

Morgan fell to the ground on 08/02/26.

A message to those who work in the fields

If you work with pesticides, please do not allow familiarity to make you careless. Follow the product label and safety instructions. Use the protective equipment specified for the chemical you are handling, including appropriate gloves and respiratory protection where required. Avoid direct contact with chemicals, never mix them with bare hands, and wash your hands and exposed skin after handling them. Change and wash contaminated clothing safely, following the product's instructions.

And please, do not ignore a persistent, painless swelling in your neck, armpit, or groin, especially if it comes with night sweats, unexplained weight loss, or ongoing fatigue. These symptoms do not automatically mean cancer, but they deserve prompt medical assessment. Do not wait for pain before seeking help.

Morgan fed our family. His land fed our neighbours. His crops fed people he would never meet.

He grew everything except the time he needed to remain with us.

To the dust you shall return, my beloved Makombe.

I hope you are resting in peace now, cheating on me with the one you always cheated on me with, the land.

You loved it so much that even I had to learn to share you with it.

He fed everyone, but his field fed him cancer.

May your story save someone else's life.

For your awareness journey, kindly share: 263 774 778 179.

Non-Hodgkin lymphoma awareness