The news came just before noon. One of the tailoring boys, Samuel, rushed into the hall where Uzo was helping Chima measure wood planks for new shelves.
"Sir, come outside. One woman from the government came with two men. They say they want to see you now now."
Uzo wiped his hands on a cloth. "Where are they?"
"Near the front gate. They didn't come inside."
Uzo nodded. "Alright. Let them wait a little. We don't run because someone important shows up."
Chima chuckled. "You sure say dem go wait?"
"They came here," Uzo replied. "They knew who they were coming to see."
By the time he walked to the gate, the woman in a green blazer had begun fanning herself with a file. Two men in black stood quietly behind her. Uzo greeted her with a simple, respectful nod.
"Madam, welcome."
"I hope you're the one they call Mr. Uzo?"
"Yes, I am."
"I represent the Community Mobilization Desk. We've been tracking your activities here."
Uzo said nothing.
"You've stirred quite a wave. Youth reports, business initiatives, that summit speech last week. It's caused some attention at higher levels."
"Alright."
"We're not here to argue. We came with a proposal."
Uzo looked at the two men. "Let's not talk under the sun. Come in."
They followed him to the side bench under a mango tree. It was quiet there. Calm.
The woman began, "There's a piece of government-owned land just past the market road. Not used in over eight years. We're looking to offer it to your center. With formal recognition."
Uzo listened. He nodded slowly but said nothing.
One of the men added, "You'll have access to grants, exposure, media support. This can become something official."
Uzo folded his hands. "And what will you expect in return?"
The woman smiled. "Just structure. Proper partnership. Alignment with existing youth boards. Perhaps occasional government representation on your team."
"Representation chosen by who?"
"By the office," she replied. "It's standard."
Uzo leaned back. "I see. You want to give us space, but sit in the driver's seat."
"It's not like that."
"It always starts that way. A chair here. A voice there. And slowly, you replace vision with politics."
She looked uncomfortable. "You'd still lead."
Uzo shook his head. "No. I would be managing. And we didn't start this to manage politics. We started to raise people."
She frowned. "You do realize you're turning down something most youth groups would fight to get?"
"I'm not most youth groups. I have seen what influence can become when truth is diluted."
One of the men muttered under his breath, "Na pride go kill some people."
Uzo turned to him. "No sir. It's not pride. It's clarity. We know who we are."
The woman closed the file. "If you change your mind, the offer remains for seven days."
"Understood."
They left quietly.
When Uzo returned inside, Adaeze was already waiting.
"They made the offer?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"I said no."
She nodded like she already knew.
That evening, they met with the core team in the training room.
"You turned down land?" Ikenna asked.
"Yes."
Zuby blinked. "Just like that?"
"They offered us more than land. They offered us chains."
"But it could have helped us grow faster."
"And it could have helped us fall faster too."
Uzo stood and faced them all. "Listen. There's a difference between help and hijack. We want land, yes. But not at the cost of truth. Not when the price is silence."
Ngozi raised a hand. "So what next?"
"We go back to our roots. We started with people, not property. Let's grow from the ground we already have."
Adaeze added, "We will revisit the Umuguma land. Use our hands. Build gradually. Let people come and see what strength without strings looks like."
The team was quiet. Reflective. The kind of silence that builds decision, not doubt.
Zuby broke it with a grin. "Na small small we go take reach."
"Yes," Uzo said. "But we will reach."
In the following days, the center buzzed again with quiet determination. While other youth groups posted certificates and endorsements online, Uzo's team posted progress in people.
One afternoon, Uzo sat with Blessing under the guava tree.
She was one of the youngest, barely sixteen, but growing fast.
"Sir," she asked, "why didn't you take the land? It would have made us bigger."
Uzo picked a fallen guava from the ground. "Do you see this fruit?"
"Yes."
"Big fruit does not always mean sweet fruit. Sometimes it's just water inside."
She nodded slowly.
"If you build with hands only, you'll get tired. If you build with heart, you'll go far."
She smiled. "Then I want to build with heart too."
He tossed her the guava. "Start here. Share with the others."
That night, he sat alone in the office. The windows were open. The stars above scattered like tiny seeds across the sky.
Adaeze joined him.
"You still thinking about the offer?"
"No. I'm thinking about the responsibility we now carry. Every step we take gives someone else courage to take theirs."
She sat beside him. "Do you sometimes feel like the weight is too much?"
"Yes. But then I remember, we were never called to carry it alone. One person starts. Others join. That's how movements rise."
She said nothing.
Then he added, "They will offer more. Maybe money. Maybe platforms. But we must measure everything against our purpose."
Adaeze looked up at the stars. "How do you know when you're still on the right path?"
"When the path is narrow," Uzo said softly. "When it costs you. When it keeps you awake not with fear, but with fire."
And in that still moment, they both knew.
They were not building a project.
They were raising a standard.