[b]Kichaka Siri
Marange, NYUNDO Headquarters[/b]

“Thula thul… Thula ba-ba… Thula sa-na…”

A young woman sings softly as she peels plantains and places them into an empty pot, the soft coos of her daughter in the other room creating a happy duet. Their melody continues as she fills the pot with water from a leaky spigot connected to the district’s aging water system by a short length of PVC pipe. She sets the pot on a salvaged stove then presses her palms flat against its sides.

With a faint glow, the water begins to softly boil. She collects a handful of thatch, ignites and throws it onto a pair of logs in the stove’s firebox. Satisfied, her words turn to humming as she picks an onion from a pile and cuts off its basal plate. Her chopping is cut short by voices arguing outside the small kitchen’s window.

“These permits are expired. Do you understand? You need new permits, you doos.” A heavily modulated voice barked.

“New permits… This is the second time this month! How can I afford to work if I have to wa-”

Setting the knife down, the woman crossed a colorful curtain of beads and approached the wriggling bundle that lay in a crib fashioned from an old shopping buggy lined with furs and blankets. She beamed down at her daughter, softly stroking the baby’s cheek as with a few last heated words the commotion outside came to an end. 

Worries lessened, the woman returned to cutting the onion when the dry crack of gunfire shook her. Knife in hand, she ran back to check on her daughter as she howled in terror. The woman suddenly reeled in shock as the handle erupted into flames in her grasp. It falls to the ground with a clatter as the blackened, gnarled piece of wood smoldered.

The edges of reality distort as the roof of the shack is torn away and propelled skywards, the cozy surroundings around Ayanda churning into a new environs. The narrow, elongated leaves of an azobé shuddered as its roots festered in the mire of the pygmy’s anomie. She perceived Ndakala both as he was and as he saw himself, a helpless child paralyzed by expectation and fear- flames licking at his psyche.

Ayanda’s will passed through the earth and enveloped Ndakala in a capsule of loose soil that brought him to her. “Wake, scion of Gyele. Shake loose the burden of the zijonge, sit, and listen.” 

A calming wave passed through Ayanda and into the waters she was immersed in as the other spoke, “Who are you?”

“I am many things. Let us focus on what I am to you. To you, I am insight. I am acceptance. I am Ayanda, and this-” she gave a sweeping gesture as the air hummed in crystalline refrain, “is my home. Tell me, Ndakala Blayhi. Why do you think you are here this day?”

"Lehlohonolo…," the drained pygmy's words were a whisper, his pain evident. Unconsciously he had reverted to his childhood tongue. "Mohato o mong le o mong oa leetong lena o ile oa eketsa le ho songoa ke ho hloka thuso ha mokhatlo. Ke tataiso ea mang ea lahlehileng?"

"Of what use is a guide who has not experienced being lost? You say you lack agency, but you could have easily chosen to do nothing and lost more." Ayanda's form gracefully turned toward Ndakala from within the vitreous basin.The reflective surface of the pools around them shifted to portray the image of an old man lifting a child over the buttress roots of a lombi tree. Their hearts were light with laughter, their satchels heavy with wild fruits, yams and kola nuts. 

"Come, little ieta. Use your young ears and listen while we rest. The meat is getting old," Gyele laughed as he happily drummed on his taut belly. He chewed on a piece of cinchona bark and eyed the young Ndakala inquisitively. "Have I told you the tale of Leopard and Crocodile?"

Ndakala shook his head vigorously, popping a guava into his mouth. The child's eyes bulged with joy at the flavor and the old man's laughs continued deep into his story.

"One day in a tribe far to the East a man's many wives grew unhappy with him and refused to work. At his wits end and quickly running out of food, a thought struck him as he worked cutting palm-kernels.

He sought out Leopard and befriended the noble hunter by presenting it with ten bunches of palm-nuts. Pleased, Leopard thanked the man and offered him a supply of fresh meat if he would pay tribute only to Leopard. The man thanked Leopard and happily agreed. 

He then went to Crocodile and presented the great watcher with ten bunches of palm-nuts. Pleased, Crocodile thanked the man and offered him a supply of fresh fish if he would pay tribute only to Crocodile. The man thanked Crocodile and happily agreed. 

The next morning Leopard came to the man’s hut and presented him with a wild hog. That afternoon came Crocodile and with him were plenty of fish. Full of food, the man’s many wives rejoiced and his family were never hungry again.”

The two resumed their hike back to their small village as Gyele continued. 

“This continued for some time, until Leopard and Crocodile both grew tired of palm-nuts. Both had heard much of dogs but had never seen or tasted one but knew that men were keeper of dogs. Each day they would arrive separately, growing more demanding for dog’s meat until fearing for the life of him and his dogs, the man determined to rid himself of Leopard and Crocodile. 

When Leopard came the next morning asking for dog meat, the man sadly told him to go to the river the following day and under a great limba tree he would find a dog to eat. Satisfied, Leopard left an antelope at the man’s doorstep and departed.

In the afternoon when Crocodile came asking for dog meat, the man sadly told him to go to the river the following morning and wait under a great limba tree. If he did, a dog would come to him and he would have his taste of dog meat. Satisfied, Crocodile smiled and left as a whole school of sardines flopped at the man’s doorstep.

The next morning, Crocodile arrived and decided to take a nap as he waited for the dog. The next afternoon, Leopard cautiously approached the river when it spotted what he thought was the dog, fast asleep.

‘No wonder men keep dogs. Look at how much meat it has.’ 

Crocodile, aroused by the rustling made by Leopard, slowly opened his eyes and thought that this must be a very large kind of dog, if not a bit skinny.

Hardly had Crocodile moved when Leopard sprang upon him. They fought for the rest of the day as the man brought his family to watch as they feasted upon the food brought by Leopard and Crocodile. The beasts killed one another and the family sang and danced.” 

Outside their village, Gyele turned to the young boy and looked deep into his eyes as he asked, “Was what the man did right?” Before Ndakala could respond, an eruption of screams sent a flock of parrots skyward while they both looked on in horror as a conflagration swept through the thatch huts of their people’s homes.

The image reflected in the Kichaka Siri's pools rippled as Ayanda stepped out from the water, taut skin glistening. A cobalt moss collected at her feet and pulsed with life as it transformed itself into a patterned imibhaco that hung from her figure. She radiated a calm that belied her years, harkening to something primal in the heart of humanity.

"In life, we lose much. But never do we lose the ability to act, unless it is relinquished. Gyele understood this."

[b]Mzinda wa Mitengo
Lake Malawi, Free Territories[/b]

A pair of turacos took turns singing happily to one another, pausing to give the occasional display of bravado. They puffed their emerald chests and flapped their indigo wings and roused Useni from his afternoon nap. He slowly swung in his hammock and watched midday shadows dancing along the open balcony, contemplating skipping his lessons when he suddenly recalled offering to join Sigele above the markets and see if they could pick out the strange visitors that had come from across the Free Territories. 

Awkwardly rolling out of the hammock, Useni grabbed his pack and rushed to fill it with smoked mpasa and a handful of lalanjes as his mother and sisters teased him. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” “With a bag of our fish and fruit no less!” “Did you upset Sigele?”

Useni groaned and ignored his family, slipped on his sandals and exited their home. He stepped into the cool shade of the natural sprawl that was Mzinda wa Mitengo. Mangroves of magnificent proportions were the bulk of the city, each trunk grown wide enough to house hundreds. Useni brushed past a group of children who laughed as the vine-covered walkway they crossed bounced with the running teen’s motions.

Minutes later he grew near the broad clearing that bordered the Gwirani, a bustling city-center of platforms just above the water level. He caught his breath, leaning heavily against a mossy railing while he watched polychromatic skiffs pass out from beneath massive roots and into a latticework of canals that traveled throughout Mzinda wa Mitengo.

A flash of brilliance draws Useni's eye to groups of workers throwing nets full of mpasa and chambo on to a narrow dock; the bright white of their bellies gleaming in the sunlight that cascaded through a translucent dome above the Gwirani.

"It was smart not to come empty-handed," Useni turned with a start, seeing no one nearby. "Up here, Mvuu."

He looked up in time to see Sigele gracefully drop from a bough above then take her place by his side at the railing. She leaned forward and scanned the bustling warren below, a faint murmur rising to meet them  "Any luck spotting them yet, Mvuu? The Gwirani is thick as your head today."

"All I see are fish, same as always." Useni rubbed the back of his neck as it flushed with heat. He looked at Sigele, admiring her grace and courage as she precipitously leaned over the railing. "C-careful," he mumbled, turning his eyes away from her and scanning the throng beneath. 

He passed her a lalanje and began to peel his own, the scent of citrus carried on a refreshing afternoon breeze. They stood in silence for a few minutes, eyes moving to and fro as they enjoyed their fruit. Growing weary, he peered at the gently swaying limbs above him. Suddenly Sigele spat as she pointed at one of the larger buildings close by. Useni's gaze followed and his eyes grew wide at the odd appearance of the visitors exiting the structure; the pair were clad in uniforms unlike anything he'd seen and were as blue as an utaka. 

One was a petite and pale figure with stark white hair; the other was massive, dwarfing the group gathered around them. Sigele whistled at the size of the latter while pointing excitedly at one of the many in the crowd surrounding the pair. “Look at Tepwanji’s stupid hat! Once he is done we can visit his shop and ask about those two.”

It was then that the hulking frame of the stranger clad in blue turned and looked directly at Sigele and Useni, sending chills down their spines. They backed away from the railing and shared terrified glances when they heard it; a deep, low growl followed by a series of snarls. The two looked to Sigele’s former perch and yelled in fright at their discovery.

In a predatory pose amongst broad, swaying leaves was a creature that paralyzed the two in fear and wonder. The Gwirani saw many animals from across the Free Territories brought to its markets but never any like this was one of Useni’s thoughts that didn’t immediately revolve around his certain death. Its shape was vaguely feline only too thick-set, like a badger; its head like a mongoose’s but with a panther’s proportions. What captivated them the most, and would be a topic of much debate later on between Sigele and he was its pelt. The creature was covered in a thick hide of moss and vines, the occasional bloom of a solidago peeking out from the dense green . 

“What have you found, Mlalo! Would-be assass-” a deep voice boomed then faltered as the gargantuan frame of a blue-clad figure came over the railing with a platform-rattling landing. “Oh.. children?”