Crisis ?!

The villages existed in relative isolation, their tenuous connections occasionally woven by the passage of some caravans navigating the odyssey between them. The prevalent motive behind such ventures predominantly rested upon the exchange of vital commodities, encompassing sustenance and other essential goods.

In the era preceding the Geto invasion 32 years ago, the coveted Maqala sparked skirmishes among the villages, each vying for possession. However, the invasion exacted a toll, significantly enfeebling the villages by depleting their elite forces. This necessitated a shift toward diplomatic strategies, prompting the formulation of more universally applicable policies and ownership rights. The intrinsic value of an elite was comparable to that of a star in any sports team; akin to removing five key players from any team, rendering it second-rate, or sometimes even just one player proved sufficient. Such was the plight that befell them after the loss of elites Mbilas in the invasion.

The village chief, abruptly interrupted in the midst of his grandson's game, now found himself ensconced in an office, encircled by officers and intelligence agents.

He remembered how he traversed the labyrinthine corridors of rooms on his way to convene with the officers who stewarded the village's fate.
The gathering was cast against the solemnity of an office, an arena less adorned than that of the Boma Yé ceremony but no less consequential.

The chief reluctantly withdrew from his memories, his mind shifting gears from the fervor of the field where is grandson was destined to emerge triumphant to the sober sanctum of governance facing his men.

"How did it happen!!! How could nobody inform me!!! Do you comprehend the gravity of the situation!!!!!!" he bellowed, the weight of his years manifesting in the thunder of his anger.

The countenances around him stiffened, but a voice, dispassionate and measured, interjected, "At least, Chief, we possess the intel. Were it not for Akima, we might have been caught off guard, potentially precipitating a diplomatic crisis."

The village chief, drawing on the well of experience accrued over his tenure, managed to temper his ire. "Akima, recount the events once more."

"We were returning from an exploration in the forbidden lands, evading 5 Getos. In our path, an encounter with a caravan ensued," he paused, allowing the weight of the atmosphere to settle.

In the aftermath of the invasion 32 years ago, Akima, erstwhile considered below average compared to a Mbila's average martial prowess, found himself at the helm of an exploration team, a clandestine force sculpted by necessity.

The Mbilas, once defined by a singular focus on battle, contended with a different reality which was — that free spaces between villages now transformed into the perilous lands filled with Getos known as the forbidden lands.

The very essence of conflict had mutated, rendering obsolete the brute strength that once sufficed for a Mbila. These lands, now haunted by the ominous presence of the Getos beyond the mist barrier, demanded a subtler approach. Fifteen elite Mbilas, erstwhile paragons of battle, could be summarily vanquished by a single Geto, reshaping the village's strategic calculus.

In a gradual metamorphosis, the village's gaze shifted from battle-hardened Mbilas to nimble scouts, their formations honed not just for confrontation but survival, adopting guerrilla tactics in this volatile landscape.

Surprisingly, the impetus for the establishment of the exploration team did not spring from the village chief but from his arch-rival, Matsouma, the merchant.

Initially dismissing it as Matsouma's covetous pursuit of more Maqala, the village head gradually acknowledged the tangible benefits. With diplomatic policies now safeguarding resources uncovered by the exploration teams, exchanges between villages no longer necessitated violent confrontations. Akima Kala , with a name signifying 'He who ran' 'a long time ago' in Lingala , rose to lead all exploration teams from just being a below average battle Mbila to the elites of the elites Scout.

Matsouma, though averse to political entanglements, assumed the mantle of the project's chief, a private endeavor necessitated by the village's initial reluctance.

This arrangement, while sparing the village's coffers, introduced a risk of collusion, as external investors (from other villages) could now influence the trajectory of this crucial project.

Akima pursued
"It was Ngobi's caravan, heading towards our village."

"Did it bear a military contingent?" the chief inquired.

"From my observations, it seemed too diminutive to pose a threat of an imminent attack on us."

"Do you comprehend the implications?" the Chief declared sternly. "At worst, they are deceased, and if not, they might allege entrapment by us."

"Some among you fail to grasp! You were still at your mothers' bosom when the Geto invasion unfolded dramatically! If, through your oversight, a war is ignited, we shall be ill-equipped to confront the looming perils," he warned, the gravity of his words echoing in the hallowed chamber.

The chief, enmeshed in a web of intrigue, insinuated a sinister possibility — that Ngobi's presence in the intercepted caravan might be immaterial. Merely the interception itself could be a lethal tool wielded by Ngobi to accuse the village's exploration team of orchestrating an attack on him.

Another voice, measured and rational, interjected, "It's highly improbable for an ordinary person to remain in a caravan with meager manpower, especially amid the pervasive threat of Getos. My belief is that Ngobi dispatched the caravan and remained in Mbuji-Mayi, his village."

The chief, an enigmatic laugh escaping his lips, left his officers bewildered, save for a select few, Akima among them.

"You underestimate him," the chief chuckled, his laughter echoing eerily. "This man fears no Geto. There are facets of him shrouded in mystery. If I revealed his exploits during the invasion, despair would overshadow your will to face him. Believe me, there's a significant chance he was in that caravan. The question remains: Did he survive?"

To maintain the combative spirit within their ranks, the village had withheld information about certain Mbilas and their exploits during the Geto invasion.

"I've dispatched a message to the team I arrived with. Scouts are already diverting the Getos away from the caravan and seeking survivors," Akima reported.

"Good. How long until we receive the report?" the chief inquired.

"The team was expected an hour ago after I came to deliver the news."

As Akima spoke these words, a sudden intrusion disrupted the meeting, the chief's countenance sharpening like daggers.

"Chief! Chief! Chief!" the breathless messenger exclaimed, his words cloaked in panic. The officers, perturbed, urged him to regain composure, but the messenger, in a state of distress, stammered, "A catastrophe..."

Laughter and cheers reverberated through the stadium, a blissful cacophony of mirth and competition. Spectators were cheering each having his team.

A teammate of Dombi addressed him with reverence, calling him "Petit Mokonzi" (Little chief) and urging him to elevate the victory's significance by venturing into the inner rim or 1st circle.

"Petit Mokonzi, you've already won, but the victory would become more sweet if you finish it by entering the inner rim"

The "little chief," pondered the mysterious overprotectiveness of the old man. Doubts had lingered in his mind when he discerned that some of his own team members and class mates were not genuine Mbilas but Azimbas in disguise, cunningly infiltrating the academy to protect him.

"Why is the old man so overprotective? Even some members of my team are Azimbas disguised as Mbilas," Dombi ruminated.


"I have one thing to finish first " Dombi declared, dismissing the concerns of his Azimba guard that was disguised as his team member.



Lipato was a game that was played on a field divided in 3 circles or rim inscribed in each other.
The goal was to have most of one's team players inside the first rim which was also the smaller one compared to the other 2 rims. The max number of players allowed in the 1st rim was 15. Each team had 16 players in total.

Before the beginning of each game they had to allocate a fixed number of players on defence and attack. The defenders could not enter the 1st rim nor leave the 2nd rim. They had to stay in the second rim preventing their opponent to enter in the 1st rim.

The catch was that the attackers had to avoid any attacks because if they were touched by 3 times by any attacks they were penalised to standstill for 5 minutes and doing nothing. These attacks could be a simple tap, to a kick it didn't matter as any touch was counted as a strike.
Defenders on the other hands had no penalties for being touched, you could attack them a thousand times.

The genesis of the Lipato game traced back to the ingenuity of the exploratory team led by Akima, a strategic endeavor designed to acclimate the Mbilas to the treacherous fields of the forbidden lands. In this clandestine realm, the defenders assumed the role of the Getos, their presence juxtaposed against the roles of the scouts and Mbilas, who now functioned as the assailants or attackers. The rim was supposed to be equivalent of some oasis made of mists in the forbidden lands (Geto can't cross dense mists).

The paradigm shift occurred in the aftermath of the invasion, a transformative era that ushered in a protocol veering toward subtlety and collaborative efforts.

In the days before the invasion, Mbilas engaged Getos in direct confrontations, head-to-head. However, the perils of the forbidden lands after a large amount of Getos swarmed on the mountain necessitated a strategical revolution. A mere brush with a Geto proved lethality, rendering every encounter a precarious dance. Even in the traditional clashes between Mbilas, a solitary blow held the potential for fatality, although it paled in comparison to the deadly lethality of the Getos. The rules of engagement had metamorphosed, demanding a finesse and unity that transcended the former brute force employed in direct combat.

The game was built in that approach. The defenders learnt to sacrifice themselves for the Team Stars as in a real "contact" some sacrifices had to be done. And the team Stars learnt to play collectively to avoid casualties at a maximum.

Now after an Attacker was touched 3 times a window of opportunity of 30 secs was opened that allowed for 3 other strikes and if these other strikes were landed, he was out of the game.
On one hand the standstill could push the players to correct their mistakes but on the other hand they were punished for playing bad if they did just like they wanted by the other 3 strikes or *Touch*.


Dombi was now rushing in Malamu's direction.