Chapter 27: reunions and warmth

There was something profoundly heartbreaking about watching a crowd of old, thin, worn-down men charging toward a disciplined, lethal army. They gripped farming hoes, broken bone clubs, and walking canes, fully prepared to lay down their lives to protect the village from what they mistook for a warlord's invasion. It was one of the most pathetic yet powerful scenes Amutenya had ever witnessed, especially when he recognized his father leading the charge, followed closely by the village grand elders: Elder Shikongo, the usually quiet Elder Konja, the upright Elder Mwashekele, and the rest of the elderly men. 

Unable to bear the sight, Amutenya quickly jumped off Ash and rushed forward to intercept the crowd. 

"Tatekulu! Tate! It's me! Don't be afraid, it's me, Amutenya!" his voice boomed across the dust as he closed the distance. 

The charge faltered. "Amutenya? Is it really you, my son?" Tate Amupolo asked uncertainly, looking at the strong, imposing youth in front of him who had changed so drastically after six months away from home. 

"Father, it is truly me. I... I have come home." 

"Good, good. It is good that you're back," the man breathed, placing a calloused, trembling hand on his son's shoulder, as if needing to physically feel that this wasn't just a dream conjured to soothe his endless worries.

"Amupolo! Is that really your boy? He has grown taller and stronger! Come here, Amupolo's boy. Let me look at you," Elder Mwashekele called out, interrupting the silent reunion between father and son. 

Amutenya walked forward and took the old man's hands in his own, bowing his head slightly. "Elder, I am sorry for making you worry. The journey was only supposed to take three moons, but we got delayed and it took twice as long as I promised. I have failed you, Elder. Please punish me," he admitted quietly, keeping his head bowed in respect. 

Elder Mwashekele sighed softly. He removed his brittle, aged hands from the boy's grip and placed one lightly on Amutenya’s head. 

"Son of Amupolo."

"I am here, Elder."

"Did anyone get permanently injured or die under your watch?"

"No, Elder. Everyone is back safe and sound."

"Did you fail to catch any prey?"

"No, Elder. We brought back enough prey to feed the village."

"Then why should you be punished?" Mwashekele asked gently. "We all know how unpredictable the wild is. You have managed to not only bring everyone back home safely but also accomplished your goal of securing food. You have done well, my boy." 

"Thank you for your praise, Elder."

"You're so long-winded, old man, move aside," Elder Shikongo cut in, his sharp eyes darting toward the massive force that had not moved a single step without a command. "Amutenya, whose army is that with you? Are those your friends from the capital?" 

Amutenya turned his head to look back at his men. They were still standing in rigid, perfect formation. He chuckled slightly. Seriously, why are they so stiff? Especially the ones who originally came from the village—did they really want an official invitation back into their own homes?

"Stop standing around! Why haven't you come here yet?" Amutenya called out to them. "Mukoya, Haufiku, lead your men and the refugees to my house. Tonight, they will camp in the ekove," he ordered, designating them to the family's large, enclosed hunting grounds for small prey. "Meme Kauna, Nelao, and Ndilimeke, go with Tate Shaningwa and Nangolo to escort the supplies to the omwandi tree. We will start dividing everything after everyone is settled. Kadhila, show Homateni, Shalulile, Mandume, and Weyulu around the village so they can get familiar." 

After dispensing the orders, he turned back to the stunned elders with a sheepish smile. "Elders, those are my men. Don't worry, I won't let them cause the village any trouble. I have been away from home for so long—how are my fields doing? Have they begun harvesting already? Let's go, let's go. Shivute and Ndapandula, come here, let's go check out the fields." 

Amutenya purposefully changed the subject to avoid dealing with the elders' non-stop questions right there in the dirt. 

Tate Amupolo looked at his son, clearly recognizing the diversion tactic, and scoffed inwardly. That little bastard really knows how to make his mother and me worry, he thought. Every night for six straight months, Meme Nangula had stayed up late, sighing over her fears for this brat, doing it so often that Amupolo himself had started losing sleep. But looking at the boy now—where did it look like he needed worrying over? He had even managed to put on healthy weight out in the wild. What a waste of a father's anxiety.

"Okay, elders, you can go help Shaningwa prepare for the division of the haul the kids brought back. I'm taking this boy to see his mother," Tate Amupolo announced, stepping in to bail Amutenya out. "She has been nagging me about his safety for months. If she doesn't see him immediately, who knows if I'll be forced to sleep in the olupale tonight." 

The elders looked between the disciplined army moving out to execute their orders and the youth who was clearly dodging their interrogation. They shook their heads with fond amusement. 

"Fine, fine, who wants to be an eyesore at your reunion? Go on. We oldies will go make ourselves useful elsewhere," Elder Shikongo laughed, pulling his friends away to go inspect the new donkeys. 

"Let's go. Your mother has been sick with worry, and you too, Shivute," Tate Amupolo said as he led the trio back toward the family homestead. "Tell me about your travels. Did your group encounter any trouble? Are you boys injured? What about your mother and father, Shivute, are they alright? I saw your uncle leaning slightly in his steps; has his injury been treated?"

Tate Amupolo fired off questions rapidly as they walked. Shivute and Amutenya answered patiently, while Ndapandula walked silently behind the family. Her eyes vacantly stared at the warm, protective dynamic unfolding in front of her. 'So this is what a family feels like? How warm.' she thought to herself.

As they neared the homestead, two small figures burst out, rushing toward them. 

"It's Amutenya! And Shivute!" Ndapewa shrieked, sprinting ahead. 

"Wait for me! Wait for me! I'm coming too!" The cries of the ever-adorable Fifi echoed behind her as the five-year-old stumbled excitedly after her older cousin. 

Shivute chuckled, rushing forward to scoop up his baby sister, his face breaking into a massive grin. "It's Fifi! Brother missed you so much! Did my little warrior miss me too?" he laughed, tossing Fifi up into the air, eliciting bursts of bright, uncontrollable giggles. 

"Missed! Missed! Fifi missed brother the most!" she cheered through her laughter. 

Meanwhile, Ndapewa had effectively scaled Amutenya like a tree and was now perched securely on his neck, her grubby hands firmly locked into his hair, holding on for dear life. 

"Brother! Where were you? You took so long! I missed you so much, I thought you left me again," the usually pragmatic, serious girl whined like a clingy kitten, her fingers stubbornly refusing to give Amutenya's scalp any mercy. 

"I missed you too, Ndapewa. I just went out to get some good things for you. I'm sorry for making you wait," Amutenya promised the little hair-gremlin who was happily kicking her feet against his chest.

Tate Amupolo noticed Amutenya’s plight and laughed loudly at his son, who was pretending to be strong while clearly wincing in pain. Only when Amupolo noticed his wife rushing out from the house did he swoop in to rescue Amutenya's hair. 

"Come here, my daughter. Let your brother rest. He just came from a long journey, do not tire him out. You can play with him tomorrow," Amupolo chided gently, peeling Ndapewa off his son. 

Amutenya nearly rolled his eyes at the two-faced man. The old man was clearly just terrified of being scolded by his wife for letting the kids mob him, but he acted like he was doing it out of deep concern for Amutenya's well-being.

Meme Nangula finally reached them, immediately pulling her son into a fierce, desperate embrace. 

"You're finally back! You must have suffered so much out there. Look at you, look how thin you have gotten," she fretted, pulling back to give him a frantic up-and-down scan. 

Tate Amupolo frowned, crossing his arms. 'Is my wife going blind? This brat has clearly put on weight. Where does he look thin?'

Amutenya just grinned happily, letting the warmth of his mother's fussing wash over him. Finally. I'm back home.