The streets looked pristine early in the morning and there was a peaceful atmosphere covering the village. As far as his eyes could see, there were homesteads with smoking chimneys marking the start of the day. The people of Jua village lived in simple huts, most of which were white or orange in color with purple, grey or red thatched roofs. A few people added murals, artwork and carvings into the walls of their huts making the design rich and beautiful. Mwana felt a deep sense of peace looking at this village where he was born, especially from a high ground as he leapt over the walls and houses. Along the way, he would greet the people he met on the streets or apologize to those who saw him jump over their houses, and run away before he got scolded.

The irritable old man, Ugumu, who once held the title of ‘King of Forgers’; the middle-aged woman who was once the village’s top beauty some twenty or so years ago, Urembo; the amiable aunt who always gave Mwana her first fresh bean shoots, Kanze; the woman who owned a fish stall selling fish from all over Toro, Mwenzi; all these people were up and about going about their business early in the morning. Mwana greeted them as he went on his way towards a unique homestead.

This homestead was curved out of a rock hill in the village and the houses looked like caves. There was already a woman waiting for him at one of the doorways. She was Jua Toboa, the mother of Jua Mwanga and Jua Nyaga.

The name ‘Nyaga’ was another way of saying ‘Mwanga’ and the meaning of both names was ‘brightness’. Mwana greeted her and opened his bag to reveal a blue sweater which his mother Sana had knit for the woman’s child. The sweater had beautiful red and gold designs all around it. When Toboa saw it, she was amazed. It wasn’t just the threadwork that was amazing but the designs themselves were on another level.

She knew full well how much Mwanga would like this sweater. It would probably be the first thing to truly cheer him up and bring brightness to his life after his father’s death. The Mwanga siblings were in a very similar situation to Mwana and Pendo as they had also experienced the loss of their father.

Mwana was very happy to see her surprise and elation as this was a sweater he had designed. In fact, while his mother basically made the ‘base’ of the sweater, the designs were all sewn in by Mwana himself. This was his talent! His artistic mind made it so that he could conceive beautiful designs like this on a whim. In fact, he had been the one to design his family’s clothes as well as the ceremonial clothes he was wearing on this day. For a blacksmith village where everyone was ‘hard’, it was indeed rare to find a talent like his. After Mwana passed on the sweater, Jua Toboa who Mwana usually referred to as Aunt Toboa, told him that her sons had already left for school. Hearing that, Mwana said his goodbyes and left for his next appointments.

‘I hope that old guy doesn’t complain about the painting after I spent so long on it.’

‘I’ll deliver the carved tiles first.’

After delivering some tiles he had been tasked to decorate to a construction workshop, he finally arrived at a homestead in a forested part of the village. This homestead was surrounded by a variety of fruit trees and every child in the village would always pass by here on the way to school for these fruits.

The man he was meeting here was Jua Fisi, an old expert blacksmith in the village. The man was old to Mwana but in reality he was only in his late fifties to early sixties. Mwana had received an art painting job for the new village-famous warrior’s mural. This was the work Mwana usually did to earn some extra money.

He couldn’t just let his mother make clothes since her body was getting weaker as time went on. There was even a time she kept going till her hands were shaking violently and Mwana had to step in to stop her. Although he understood that his mother was pushing herself because of how powerless she felt, he couldn’t let her continue harming her health. In their family, only his uncle Wapili and his aunts had steady incomes yet most of this went to treat his older uncle and mother. Some of his older cousins would send in support here and there but they were not living at the homestead anymore or were even away from the village for long periods of time. As for food and other necessities, the family mostly got their share from the village.

An old man could be seen walking out of the big compound’s gates. The fence to this compound was so low that Mwana could easily step over it without jumping much but he preferred to stand outside during his dealings with this old man.

“Old man, you have too much money to waste on that good for nothing.” Mwana didn’t even greet the old man politely; he opened his bag and unrolled a large painting. This piece was an image of a young dashing man who looked extremely majestic and domineering like the legends of old.

The old man happily took it from Mwana’s hands before looking at it appreciatively, “Brat, you have talent.”

“How about you come and work at my shop?” he added while stroking his nonexistent beard.

Mwana didn’t even bother to respond to that question and stretched out his hand waiting for his payment.

“Straight to business, huh, and did you just call my son a good-for-nothing? He is a village hero you know.”Indeed his son, Jua Waya Wanyama, was a village hero and a Senior Warrior who was close to the Apex before the age of 20!

He had received the title of hero for his ingenuity in saving the village from massive losses and property damage when the Amanani River flooded its banks. Jua Waya, at just eighteen years old, had used his wit and knowledge about the water attribute to redirect the river waters. When Amanani rose from the waters to attack the village, he alone killed four of them with a single throw of his Goleyo. Each of his throwing knife’s four blades beheaded an Amanani.

The Amanani were humanoid creatures with red skin, long black hair and a lengthy tail with a flaming tip. These creatures of myth lived in the mountains, forests and rivers like the Eastern Befuddling River, also termed as the Demonic or Amanani River. Amanani usually had multiple sets of eyes and two mouths, one normal and one monstrous which they naturally used to consume humans. Their stomachs were like a bottomless pit or separate space as they could swallow entire villages without as much as bloating in the same manner as traditional ogres.

Worst of all, they could shape-shift into humans, usually taking the appearance of handsome princes. Their monstrous mouth was usually hidden behind the neck with their long hair covering it. They would take this handsome human form to sneak into villages and trick young women before taking them away as their brides. Naturally the victims’ fates after leaving the villages would be horrific.

Among all the young warriors who fought for the village against the Amanani on that fateful day, Waya stood out the most. For his ingenuity in redirecting the river waters and his combat prowess, he gained everyone’s respect. While Mwana always called him ‘Big bro Waya’, this young man had messed with Mwana too many times that he would always get annoyed whenever he heard his name. Waya was indeed a village hero, but his demeanor was far from one.