They Seized My Harvester, Hurt My Mom; I Jailed the Village

It hurt to watch my parents break their backs in the fields, so I dug into my own pocket and bought a sixty-thousand-dollar combine harvester.

For five years, whenever relatives or friends came to borrow it, we never charged them a cent.

Then, while I was out of state doing rural-aid work, my sister called out of nowhere.

"Sis, Uncle Brendan Cobb and his people borrowed our harvester and won't give it back, and they smashed a hole in Mom's forehead!"

In the photo she sent, my mother's face was covered in blood and my father's whole body was tracked with mud footprints.