The ₦100 That Opened Heaven’s Book: A Story of Honesty from Ofunama

The ₦100 That Opened Heaven’s Book: A Story of Honesty from Ofunama

By Dr. Odimientimi Agbedeyi | Global Egberi Media International | November 9, 2025


It was a bright morning in Ofunama, a peaceful riverine community along the Egbema Kingdom coastline, when Boro Kemelayefa, the respected shop owner near the community square, was just opening his wooden stall. The smell of palm oil and the sound of paddles from the creeks filled the air.

As he raised the bamboo blinds, a middle-aged widow named Mama Ebimobowei stepped into the shop, holding a folded ₦100 note gently in her palm. Her wrapper was damp — she had just arrived after a long canoe paddle from Binidodogha, nearly four hour’s journey through winding mangrove creeks.


๐Ÿ’ฌ “Sir, Here Is Your ₦100”

Boro looked at her with confusion.
“Madam, which ₦100?” he asked, wiping his brow.

The widow smiled humbly.
“Yesterday evening I buy garri, salt, and matches. I give you ₦1,000. You return ₦400 instead of ₦300. I come return your ₦100.”

Boro froze. He couldn’t believe it.
“You come all the way from Binidodogha — across three creeks — just to return ₦100?”

She nodded calmly, her eyes glowing with quiet integrity.
“Yes. I no fit sleep. My husband, before he die, teach me say, ‘Never keep wetin no be your own. Even one kobo wey no belong to you fit make your pikin suffer tomorrow.’”

The shopkeeper was speechless. He took the ₦100, pressed it to his forehead, and muttered,
“Na woman like you still make heaven smile upon earth.”


๐Ÿ›ถ “Peace of Mind No Get Shortcut”

Boro watched as the woman stepped into her small hand-pulled canoe and paddled away toward Binidodogha, her figure disappearing slowly between mangrove roots and the morning mist.

As she faded from sight, her words echoed in his heart:

“If you want peace of mind, you must do right. Even the river dey return water wey e borrow from rain.”

Those words hit Boro deeply. Without hesitation, he locked his shop, took ₦300 from his drawer, and told his assistant,

“Erekpemi, take care of shop. I go small errand.”


๐Ÿ’ธ “What If I Die Before You Return?”

He walked straight to Agoro-Idumu and walked to Preye’s stall — another trader in Ofunama who bought provisions from him the previous day.

“Preye,” he said, “yesterday I overcharge you ₦300 by mistake. Take your money.”

Preye laughed.
“You for keep am, my brother. I for still buy from you later.”

But Boro replied softly,

“What if I die before you come back? You no even know I owe you. I must clear my account before the One Above calls me.”

He handed him the ₦300 and left. Preye stood frozen, deeply disturbed. Those words pierced him like a spear.


๐Ÿ’ญ A Debt Buried in Silence

That night, Preye couldn’t sleep. Ten years earlier, he had borrowed ₦30,000 from his close friend Pere-owei, a fisherman from Binidodogha. But the very next day, Pere-owei drowned in the river during a fishing trip.

Nobody knew about the loan. Preye, tempted by greed, never mentioned it — not even to Pere-owei’s widow, Mama Ebimobowei.

Now, guilt weighed heavily on him like a net full of stones. He remembered Boro’s voice:

“The One Above can ask for an account anytime. And the punishment might fall on your children.”


๐Ÿ’ฐ “What If Heaven Asks for an Account?”

After two days of sleepless nights, Preye withdrew ₦3,000,000 from his bank in Sapele — money that had grown over the years from that initial ₦30,000 debt. He entered his canoe and paddled through the same winding creeks to Binidodogha.

When he arrived, he met Mama Ebimobowei sitting under a mango tree with her children, peeling periwinkles to sell. Preye fell on his knees before her and wept uncontrollably.

“Mama,” he cried, “this money belong to your late husband. I kept it in sin, and it never gave me peace. Please forgive me.”

The widow trembled, tears rolling down her wrinkled cheeks. She couldn’t believe her eyes as Preye handed her a bundle of ₦3,000,000. She raised her hands to heaven and said softly,

“Jehovah still dey watch the heart of man. God never forget justice.”


๐ŸŒŠ The River Spoke Again

News spread across the creeks that a widow’s honesty returned to bless her household. The same woman who had travelled twice by canoe to return ₦100 received a miracle she never imagined.

Fishermen whispered the tale by their lanterns; traders in Ofunama market told it with reverence. The elders said,

“River wey return small fish go one day catch big one.”

And that day, everyone understood — integrity is a seed that never dies.


๐Ÿ’ซ Moral Lesson

Those who live by honesty may seem foolish to the world, but they are the ones God remembers in His own time.
Never cheat, never take what is not yours. Even if men forget, the heavens never forget.
As the Ijaw elders say,

“The tide may hide the truth, but when the water clears, every shell shows its color.”


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#OfunamaStories #IjawWisdom #MoralStory #Accountability #Honesty #NigerDelta #Binidodogha #DrOdimientimiAgbedeyi


Author: Dr. Odimientimi Agbedeyi
Global Egberi Media International
๐ŸŒ https://globalegberi.blogspot.com
๐Ÿ“ง globalegberimedia@gmail.com
๐Ÿ“ž +234 813 490 2214

ORIGINAL STORY: UNKNOWN AUTHOR 


Facebook Caption:

A widow from Binidodogha paddled her canoe to Ofunama just to return ₦100 she was mistakenly given. Her honesty stirred the heavens — and returned to bless her family beyond imagination. Read this soul-stirring Niger Delta story by Dr. Odimientimi Agbedeyi on Global Egberi Media International.

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