The Wrath of the Unchained

The sun hung high in the sky, and the village buzzed with excitement. Word had spread fast—Khisa's game was happening today. Children ran through the pathways, calling for their friends. Mothers packed water gourds and snacks, while fathers, warriors, and elders gathered near the field, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

The game had started as a children's activity, but now, it was a village-wide event.

Under a large tree, a group of elderly women sat weaving headbands and wristbands from colorful beads and plant fibers, intending to mark the players for easier team identification.

"I don't understand this game," one old woman, Mama Nanjili, muttered as she tied a bead necklace.

"But if the children love it, I suppose it can't be all bad."

Another woman, Mama Ndunge, chuckled. "Let them enjoy, Nanjili. The world is harsh enough. If we can give them one day to laugh, let it be today."

Nearby, warriors stood in a small circle, their arms crossed, pretending they weren't interested.

"How can you be so eager to watch children run around?" one scoffed.

"Because," Wafula responded, stroking his beard, "if these boys learn teamwork today, tomorrow they might fight together in battle. Look at them—learning strategy without even realizing it."

The warrior grunted in reluctant approval but still refused to sit down.

In the food area, women roasted sweet potatoes and yams, while others prepared fermented milk and honeyed water to keep the players energized.

"These children will need strength," one mother said, stirring a pot. "The way I heard it, there will be a lot of running and tackling!"

The mothers laughed, already picturing bruised knees and scraped elbows.

A few elders sat under the shade of a large acacia tree, discussing the day's events.

"It seems our Khisa is slowly growing up," Namwamba said, tapping his walking stick against the ground.

"Tch… Something does not seem right with that boy," Mumia, one of the oldest and most traditional elders, grumbled. "Instead of working, everyone is running around like fools playing games."

Mumia scoffed. "A child is making the whole village go crazy! Next thing you know, he will want to command our warriors."

Namwamba, always the voice of reason, chuckled. "Let the children play, Mumia. If anything, we work too much. Maybe this game is good for us. Besides…" he smiled knowingly, "if he keeps this up, perhaps he will be the one to finally lead us to defeat our enemies."

Mumia grumbled but said nothing more.

Meanwhile, Khisa hurried around the field, making sure everything was set.

He had created a simple timekeeping tool—two small clay pots, one with a tiny hole at the bottom, allowing water to drip slowly into the second pot. Once the first pot emptied, the round would end.

"This should last about ten minutes," he muttered to himself. "Enough for them to play without getting too tired."

[You seem excited, Khisa.]

Khisa grinned, recognizing Ayaan's voice in his mind. "I never had a chance to play games before, so this will be a fun experience."

"By the way, Ayaan, can I talk to you in my mind? It feels awkward to always talk out loud."

[Yes, you can. It seems I forgot to mention that.]

Khisa laughed. "I just never thought to ask. I'll be in your care, Ayaan."

[Then focus, Khisa. The game is about to begin.]

The villagers gathered along the sidelines, excitement buzzing in the air. The warriors assigned to keep score stood ready, each with a pile of counting sticks beside them. The red and blue teams assembled, their painted faces and wristbands marking them clearly.

Khisa climbed onto a small platform.

"Once the horn blows, the game begins!" he announced. "After some time, the horn will blow twice—that means a break for water. When the horn blows three times, the game ends. The team with the most points wins!"

The crowd fell silent.

Then—

The horn blared.

Ndengu from the blue team smashed the ball, and the blue team charged forward. Ndengu threw the ball to Naliaka, who was smaller and faster. She dashed forward, dodging both the trees and the red team players. The red team closed in, and with a well-timed tackle, they knocked her to the ground and seized the ball. The game quickly turned into a mad scramble, with players darting through trees and narrowly avoiding rocks.

"Watch out!" Naliaka shouted as a red team member lunged at her teammate, barely missing him.

Khisa's heart raced as he watched. The game was more intense than he had expected. His mind quickly raced through the rules, ensuring everyone was safe. Despite a few rough tackles, the kids were enjoying themselves, their laughter and shouts filling the air.

At one point during the second half, little Juma, barely able to hold the ball properly, ran in the wrong direction with the entire red team chasing him. Khisa couldn't help but laugh as the entire field erupted into chaos, with everyone shouting at Juma to stop.

"Juma, the other goal!" Naliaka yelled. He blinked and looked at her, then turned sheepishly and ran back to the right side, earning a round of chuckles from the crowd.

As the blue team advanced, Naliaka darted forward, weaving through the red team players. She was fast and small, using her agility to her advantage. At one point, she found herself face-to-face with Mumia, who had bent down to pick up a stick that had fallen from the sidelines.

Without hesitation, Naliaka took a leap, her feet lifting off the ground in a graceful arc as she jumped clean over Mumia, landing lightly on the other side. The crowd gasped and then erupted into laughter, impressed by her quick thinking and skill.

Mumia, caught off guard, stood up, wiping his hands on his tunic and shaking his head with a smile. "Not bad for a little one!" he chuckled, clearly amused by the unexpected move.

Naliaka didn't miss a beat. She continued her run toward the goal, leaving Mumia shaking his head in disbelief.

In the final moments of the first half, Naliaka performed a daring run toward the goal, dodging three players in a row. She was about to score when one of the red team members, seeing the danger, made a desperate dive and managed to knock her off course. The ball skittered out of bounds, and the crowd gasped.

The game was nearing its final moments, and the score was tight—Red Team leading by one point.

Khisa gripped the timer pot. A few drops left.

One last chance.

The horn blared twice—the last minute.

A red team player held the ball, keeping it tight against his chest, trying to run the clock down.

Not today.

Ndengu charged in, faking left, then lunging right. His shoulder slammed into the opponent's ribs, sending them both tumbling.

The ball flew loose.

Naliaka sprinted forward, snatching it from midair. She twisted sharply, dodging a desperate tackle.

Clear path.

Only one defender stood between her and victory.

Shikanga.

The biggest, strongest boy in the village.

Naliaka didn't slow down.

Shikanga braced himself, arms wide.

She planted her foot hard, then—

She jumped.

Gasps echoed as she soared over Wafula's outstretched arms, ball clutched tight.

She landed, stumbled—dived the last few feet—

Slam!

The ball crossed the goal line just as the final horn blared.

Silence.

Then—the village erupted.

The game had barely ended, but the celebration had already begun.

Fires were lit, meat roasted, and the air filled with the rich aroma of stewed vegetables, roasted yams, and honeyed drinks.

Khisa sat near the fire, exhausted but grinning from ear to ear. The weight of what he was trying to build was heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to bring progress and joy to the village, but what if the elders were right? What if this was all just a distraction?

Yet, looking at the smiles of the children and the pride in his parents' eyes, Khisa felt something stir within him—a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something bigger.

His mother, Nanjala, approached with a cup of honeyed milk, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"That was such a wonderful game, Khisa. The village hasn't been this lively in years!"

His father, Lusweti, sat beside him, smacking his shoulder.

"Even the elders enjoyed it. Mumia tried to pretend he wasn't impressed, but I saw him cheering at the final play."

Khisa laughed, but his father's tone turned serious.

"You've given the village something special today, son. But I can see it in your eyes. You're already thinking of what's next, aren't you?"

Khisa nodded. "I want to make training weapons for the kids. The world is dangerous, and they should be ready."

His father smiled. "Then we will help you."

As the village danced and feasted, Khisa sat back, watching his people laugh, eat, and celebrate together.

For the first time since he had arrived in this new life…

He truly felt at home.

Namwamba, the village leader, leaned back against the tree, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched the children celebrating. "I must admit," he said, his voice thoughtful, "this boy has done something remarkable. Look at them—laughing, playing, united. There's joy in their hearts. This may be the change we need."

Mumia, sitting beside him, furrowed his brow. "Joy, yes. But what of our traditions? What of the training that has shaped our warriors for generations? Will this... game... take the place of the strength and discipline we have built?"

Wafula, who had been quiet until now, spoke up with a calm yet firm voice. "Tradition does not have to mean stagnation. Khisa is showing us that there is room for both. The game brings them together, gives them focus, and yet they still learn to be strong, fast, strategic. It's not the same as the training our warriors receive, but it might teach them something equally valuable."

Mumia shook his head, unwilling to let go of his skepticism. "I see the children running wild, playing in the dirt, and I wonder if we are letting our guard down. The old ways were tried and true, but this new thinking... it could make us weak."

Namwamba turned to face Mumia, his voice gaining strength. "You are too focused on what is unfamiliar. Yes, this game is new, but it's not about abandoning our ways. It's about expanding what we already know, reaching beyond the old boundaries. What Khisa has done is show the children that their strength isn't just in their arms but in their minds as well."

Mumia's gaze lingered on the field, where the children were still running and laughing, their spirits high. "And you think this will prepare them for the challenges ahead?"

Wafula spoke again, his voice quiet but resolute. "I think it is one step. Khisa has started a spark in them. If we are wise, we will let it grow, and guide them to see the value in both our past and the future."

Namwamba nodded in agreement, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Let us give it time. If Khisa's ideas do not work, we will know soon enough. But we cannot dismiss them without seeing what they bring."

Mumia didn't respond right away. Instead, he watched the children for a long moment before sighing, his face softening slightly. "Perhaps... perhaps I have been too quick to judge. There is much to be said for the way they've come together today."

The sound of laughter filled the air, and Namwamba stood, his heart lighter than it had been in days.

"Yes. We will see what the future holds. But for now, we can all share in the joy of the present." He turned back to Mumia with a smile.

"Let them be children for now. The time will come when we will teach them how to fight."

Mumia gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose, for today, that is enough."

As the sun began to set, the village elders remained seated, still watching the children, but now their gaze was less critical, more contemplative. Perhaps the winds of change were not something to fear, after all.