The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Raji sprinted through the village, shouting for his father. The urgency in his voice echoed off the mud walls of the houses as he ran, his bare feet pounding against the dirt path. “Papa! Papa!” he yelled, his chest heaving with the effort of his sprint.
As he reached the house at the end of the cluster, his father emerged, pulling aside the animal hide curtain that served as the door. “What is it?” he asked, his voice laced with anger. “Why are you running and shouting at this early dawn?”
Raji fell to his knees, panting for breath. "Papa, they've left," he said, his voice shaking with fear. “M'kuu Mbaya has taken all of his men and left the town. They're going after Bami and his people.”
The gravity of the situation washed over the older man's face as he understood the implications of his son's words. “Ah, I see,” he said gravely.
"Papa, we can use this chance to run away," Raji pleaded, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It's our only chance. We can go west, away from Mbaya and his riders. We'll cross the Bono river and head north to Kumate.”
His father shook his head. “Kumate is further than you think, Raji. It will be a long and dangerous journey. We have to consider the safety of our entire tribe, not just our own family.”
But Raji was desperate. “Please, Papa. This is our only chance to escape.”
The older man considered his son's words, weighing the risk of such a journey against the potential danger of staying in the village. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “Raji, call the elders. We shall discuss this and make a decision together.”
Raji nodded, defeated, and set off to gather the other leaders of the tribe. As he walked through the village, he saw that many of his people were already out of their homes, no doubt stirred by his shouting and his conversation with his father.
He followed the winding path between the houses until he reached the home of Uncle Jabbar, adorned with an animal skull hanging above the door frame. "Uncle Jabbar!" he called out.
A deep voice replied, “What?”
“The chief has summoned you,” Raji explained.
A heavy dragging sound echoed from within the dwelling, and then a towering figure with thick dreadlocks and a missing arm emerged from behind the animal hide partition. Jabbar stood head and shoulders above Raji, his singular limb a testament to his bravery and martial prowess. As the tribe's best warrior and an accomplished elder, Jabbar commanded respect and admiration.
Jabbar fixed his gaze on Raji, as if trying to discern the reason for the commotion from his expression. After scanning Raji's face, he turned his attention to the chief's home and called out, “Amari!”
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“Yes, Da,” came the reply from within his uncle’s.
“Come,” Jabbar said, setting off towards the chief's house without waiting for a response.
Jabbar's son, Amari, emerged from the house behind him, spear in hand, and followed his father to the chief's house without so much as a glance at Raji. Amari was twice Raji's age, with broad shoulders and a fierce look in his eyes. He too was a formidable warrior like his father and also an elder of the tribe.
The third and last elder of the tribe was the Imamu, who tended to the wooden effigies of the gods and conveyed their messages to the people. The Imamu lived well outside of the village, stating that the gods did not reside among the people, not even in their representatives.
Raji lamented the distance he would have to travel to notify the spiritual leader, but as he began to head towards the village entrance, he saw the Imamu already making his way towards the chief's dwelling. “It must be a coincidence,” Raji thought to himself.
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It's been hours since Raji was sent to summon the elders. The sun is high in the sky and the entire village has gathered in front of the chief's house. Everyone knows what's being discussed inside. Word has spread from those who overheard Raji's conversation with his father, and some have even approached Raji directly to verify the rumors. There are excited faces in the crowd, but also nervous ones – it's understandable, as they all know that if they don't manage to escape in time, they'll be putting their lives in danger.
Movement stirred within the chief's dwelling, breaking the silence that had settled over the village. Uncle Jabbar and his son, Amari, emerged from the house, standing on opposite sides of the entrance and eyeing the crowd before them. The scars on their bodies were visible in the bright sunlight - Amari bore several on his arms and torso, while Uncle Jabbar had twice as many on his arm alone, with no doubt many more hidden beneath his shirt. His hair, a mixture of black and gray locks, flowed down to his shoulders. Amari sported a small afro with a fade, a necklace made of claws around his neck - likely trophies from his hunts - adding to his intimidating appearance.
As Raji gazed upon the stern faces of the two men, a feeling of unease washed over him. He had hoped to persuade his father to make a decision on his own, fearing the judgment of the elders. The thought of his uncle's lost arm caused a frown to crease his brow as he pushed his way through the crowd towards the front of the house. Just as he arrived, his father stepped out - Fadhili M'kuu, the graceful one, chief of the Bante tribe.
The chief spoke, his voice carrying across the crowd gathered in front of his house. “We will leave for Kumate at dawn,” he announced, and the crowd erupted into cheers. “Gather your things and be ready to go. M'kuu Mbaya will not catch us off guard.”
Raji was relieved, his heart raced with excitement and fear at the news. They had a chance to escape, but it wouldn't be easy. Still, he knew it was their only hope.
The villagers rushed to prepare, packing their belongings and readying themselves for the journey ahead. The chief turned to Amari and told him to head out to the town and gather any remaining members of their tribe and lead them back to the village if Mbaya does not return by dawn. As the chief gave Amari his instructions, the atmosphere in the village became electric with excitement and anticipation. Despite the fear and uncertainty of their situation, the prospect of finally being able to escape Mbaya's grasp was a welcome one.
[https://iili.io/HY2xKKJ.jpg]
Amari without his scars