Chapter 25 - Return to Nuri
Khisa had fought many battles, but this was the first time he had returned home feeling more like a failure than a victor.
The gates of Nuri loomed ahead, yet his heart felt heavier with each step. The 290 Kikuyu survivors who followed him had suffered too much. They had left behind their dead, their homes, and their pasts. And even on the journey back, they had lost ten more souls—claimed by exhaustion, sickness, or the wild.
Each loss had chipped away at their hope, until some of them walked like shadows, their eyes dull with grief.
And yet, as they approached, the people of Nuri erupted into cheers.
Drums pounded in celebration, voices called out, and children ran to see the newcomers. The air was filled with ululations and laughter, as if they had all returned from a grand victory.
But Khisa did not feel victorious.
He raised a hand for silence.
"These are our brothers and sisters," he said, his voice carrying over the crowd. "They have suffered more than any of us can imagine. Welcome them, not with curiosity, but with kindness."
Then, turning to the Kikuyu, he continued in Kiswahili, the language he had insisted they learn. "From now on, speak only Kiswahili with our people. It will unite us."
The Kikuyu hesitated. They were strangers here. But as the women of Nuri stepped forward, offering food, clothing, and warm embraces, the stiffness in their shoulders eased. Children reached out to one another, first shy, then playful. The first barriers between them began to fall.
As Khisa watched, a weary woman caught his gaze. She clutched the hand of a boy barely five years old, his eyes empty, his little body thin with hunger.