Chapter 8 - The Choice Between War and Survival
Chapter 8 – The Choice Between War and Survival
The main hut was drowning in heavy silence. Chief Lusweti sat rigid, his brow furrowed, lost in thought. The elders watched him, their faces grim, waiting for his decision.
Finally, he exhaled sharply. "Elders, advise me. If we fight, we risk our village being wiped out. If we surrender the mines, we will be forced to leave our ancestral home or be absorbed by the Angwenyi. To save our people, we must meet their demands. But at what cost?" His voice was laced with frustration, his strong presence dimmed by the weight of the moment.
Khisa clenched his fists. Give up? Just like that? His stomach twisted with anger.
"You want us to just hand over our land?" he demanded.
The elders looked at him as if he had lost his mind. He had been allowed into the meeting only because of his persistence, but they still saw him as a boy.
"They came into our home and took four of our people! And you want to surrender?" His voice cracked with emotion. "I know I'm young, I know I don't understand everything, but I do know this—our ancestors bled for this land! We can't just walk away!"
Mumia sighed deeply. Of all the elders, he understood Khisa's frustration the most. He had been a warrior once. He had buried too many friends.
"Khisa, sometimes the best path is not violence," Namwamba said.
Another elder spoke solemnly, "Our people come first. As long as we live, we can always rebuild."
Khisa's heart pounded. "You say we fought them before. And yet we are still here. That means we won before! So why won't we fight now?"