The moons turned, each cycle etching deeper lines of authority onto Jabari's young face, lines that spoke less of his eighteen rains and more of the ancient, calculating mind that now resided within him. The defeat of Kapteni Steiner and his German East Africa Company expedition had been a brutal baptism of fire, but from its ashes, the Batembo "kingdom"—as Kaelo increasingly thought of it—was emerging with a resilience and purpose that startled even its closest allies. The long rains, when they finally swept across Unyamwezi in a life-giving deluge, seemed to wash away the last vestiges of fear and uncertainty, nurturing not only the sorghum and millet in the newly expanded fields but also the burgeoning confidence of a people who had faced down a sun-haired invader and prevailed.
Jabari's ikulu, once a typical, if well-ordered, Nyamwezi chief's compound, now pulsed with a new, organized dynamism. The central clearing, where warriors had once drilled with a somewhat haphazard enthusiasm, now saw the Nkonde sya Ntemi—the Fists of the Chief—practicing musket volleys and small unit tactics under Hamisi's watchful eye, their movements showing a discipline that would not have shamed a European drill sergeant, albeit adapted to the realities of bush warfare. The captured German rifles, now supplemented by a steady trickle of new firearms acquired through carefully managed ivory trade, were their prized possessions. Seke the smith, his status in the clan elevated to that of a master craftsman, had established a larger, more efficient forge near the edge of the ikulu. The clang of his hammer, and those of his growing team of apprentices, was a constant, reassuring rhythm, a promise of stronger spearheads, sharper axe blades, and, one day, perhaps even Batembo-made firearms. Kaelo had spent hours with Seke, patiently explaining principles of metallurgy he vaguely recalled from his twenty-first-century education—the importance of consistent heat, the properties of different ores, the basics of tempering. Seke, a man of intuitive genius, absorbed it all, his experiments yielding tangible results that slowly but surely improved the quality of every iron tool and weapon produced.
Juma, the young scout whose keen eyes and quick mind had proven so valuable, now led a small cadre of youths whom Kaelo, through Jabari, was patiently teaching a simplified system of symbols. They sat for hours under the shade of a large acacia tree with Mzee Kachenje, painstakingly scratching inventories of grain, lists of warriors in each age-grade, and even rudimentary maps onto cured hides. It was slow, laborious work, the concept of literacy a profound leap, but Kaelo knew that a kingdom that could not count its own strength or record its own laws was a kingdom built on sand. Kachenje, initially bewildered by the notion of capturing the ever-flowing river of oral tradition in static marks, had come to see the wisdom in it, his own vast memory now being supplemented by these nascent archives.
The administrative sinews of Jabari's growing realm were also strengthening. He formalized his council, assigning specific responsibilities. Hamisi remained his undisputed war leader, his authority absolute over all Batembo and allied warriors. Boroga, his ambition now channeled into constructive paths, was given charge of all granaries, tribute collection, and the regulation of internal markets, a task he performed with a meticulous, if sometimes overbearing, efficiency. Mzee Kachenje became the keeper of laws and traditions, his wisdom sought in all matters of justice and diplomacy. Lبانجى of the Wanyisanza, whose fierce loyalty to Jabari was now unshakeable, acted as a permanent envoy to the allied clans and often sat on Jabari's war council, his knowledge of regional politics and his network of Wanyisanza trackers proving invaluable. Kibwana, the old healer, remained Jabari's quiet spiritual advisor, his presence a calming influence, his knowledge of herbs and the human spirit often providing insights Kaelo's purely rational mind might have missed.
The system of tribute from the subjugated Wasumbwa sub-chiefs and newly allied Nyamwezi villages was regularized. Kaelo insisted it be fair, not crushing. "A well-fed bull gives more milk and stronger calves than a starved one," Jabari had explained to the council, using a Nyamwezi proverb to convey a core Kaelo principle of sustainable exploitation. The tribute – grain, cattle, hides, iron ore, sometimes even skilled labor for communal projects like fortifying key villages or clearing new fields – flowed into Batembo storehouses, funding the expansion of the army and providing a buffer against future lean times.
Jabari himself presided over disputes with a wisdom that continued to astound his elders. Kaelo's twenty-first-century understanding of legal principles, filtered through Jabari's Nyamwezi cultural lens, often resulted in judgments that were both equitable and innovative. When a bitter land dispute arose between two powerful Batembo lineages, a conflict that in Kazimoto's time might have simmered for years or ended in bloodshed, Jabari, after listening to all sides and consulting Kachenje's knowledge of ancestral land use, proposed a solution that involved not just dividing the land, but also a shared investment in digging a new well that would benefit both parties, forcing cooperation. His reputation for justice spread, and even chiefs from outside his direct sphere of influence began to send difficult cases for his adjudication.
The Wanyisanza alliance, born in shared adversity, blossomed. Joint Batembo-Wanyisanza hunting parties, guided by Lبانجى's kinsmen, now ranged deep into the eastern valleys, bringing back a steady stream of high-quality ivory. This wealth was immediately reinvested. More firearms were sought, but Kaelo also directed Jabari to trade for other, less obvious, tools of power: sturdy iron cooking pots that freed up women's time from constantly repairing clay ones, durable coastal cloth that could be tailored into more practical warrior garments than simple hides, and even, on one occasion, a small, precious quantity of saltpeter from a coastal trader, which Seke immediately began to experiment with for gunpowder production, his eyes gleaming with scientific fervor.
Kaelo, through Jabari, also initiated feelers to other, more distant Nyamwezi chiefdoms. The defeat of Steiner had sent shockwaves through the region. Some chiefs were fearful, suspecting Jabari of harboring vast, disruptive ambitions. Others were intrigued, seeing in him a potential rallying point against the growing external pressures – not just from Europeans, but also from larger, more aggressive African kingdoms like the Hehe to the south or the remaining powerful Arab trade syndicates. Jabari's envoys, carrying gifts of Seke's improved ironware and tales of Batembo strength and fairness, were generally received with respect, if sometimes with caution. Kaelo was patiently weaving a web of alliances, playing a long game of diplomacy, aiming to build a confederation that could, one day, form the core of a truly unified Nyamwezi nation, and perhaps, something even greater.
He was acutely aware of the moral compromises this path entailed. The caravan trade, the engine of his current prosperity, was still inextricably linked to the slave trade. While he had forbidden Batembo warriors from engaging in slave raiding for export and had offered sanctuary to those fleeing Steiner's abuses, he still collected tolls from caravans that carried human cargo. He had even, as a pragmatic measure, "acquired" a few dozen former captives from Salim and Steiner to labor on communal projects, justifying it to himself as a step towards their eventual integration and freedom within a Batembo system that, he vowed, would ultimately offer more dignity than their previous servitude. But the justification felt thin, a constant, grating reminder of the brutal realities he had to navigate. One cannot build a fortress against wolves by adhering to the ethics of sheep, Kaelo would tell himself in the deep hours of the night, the words a cold comfort. Power first. Then, perhaps, a more scrupulous morality.
The greatest challenge, Kaelo knew, was the ever-present shadow of Europe. Finch had been an observer. Steiner had been an ill-fated pioneer. But others would follow. He studied Steiner's captured journals and maps relentlessly, trying to understand the European mindset, their organizational capacity, their long-term colonial ambitions which were far more systematic than the often chaotic, individualistic ventures of Arab traders. He learned of joint-stock companies, of royal charters, of the intricate dance of diplomacy and military power that characterized European expansion. He saw that defeating one Kapteni Steiner was like cutting off one tentacle of a vast, unseen kraken; more would inevitably grow in its place.
His only hope, Kaelo believed, was to build something so strong, so unified, so internally resilient that it could either deter future incursions or meet them on more equal terms. It was a race against time, a desperate gamble against overwhelming historical odds.
One humid afternoon, as the air grew heavy with the promise of the main rainy season, a major caravan was sighted by Juma's ever-vigilant scouts. It was not Salim bin Rashid, but a new player: a wealthy Omani Arab trader named Nasser Al-Harithi, renowned for his vast network stretching from Zanzibar to the Congo, his ruthlessness masked by a veneer of urbane charm. His caravan was even larger than Salim's last, bristling with Baluchi mercenaries and well-armed Swahili guards.
Jabari met him at the customary baobab tree, but this time, the dynamics were palpably different. Jabari's escort was larger, sixty warriors including twenty of the Nkonde sya Ntemi whose firearm discipline was now crisp and impressive. Lبانجى stood at his side with a score of his own formidable Wanyisanza archers. Seke's spearheads gleamed with a superior light. And Jabari himself, though still youthful, carried the undeniable aura of a victorious war leader, a Ntemi whose authority was unquestioned in these lands.
The negotiations were protracted, a complex dance of power and diplomacy. Nasser Al-Harithi was a more subtle, more sophisticated negotiator than Salim. He had clearly heard of Steiner's fate and probed Jabari's strength and intentions with carefully worded questions. Jabari, Kaelo's mind supplying the counter-moves, was equally shrewd. He showcased his ivory, but also his military strength. He spoke of the peace and order he had brought to the trade routes through his territory, implying that such security came at a price.
In the end, a deal was struck, more favorable to the Batembo than any before. A large cache of modern percussion muskets, several kegs of fine English gunpowder, bars of lead, bolts of durable cloth, and even a small chest of silver thalers were exchanged for Jabari's prime ivory. Nasser Al-Harithi, Kaelo sensed, left with a newfound respect for the young Nyamwezi Ntemi who was rapidly becoming a force to be reckoned with in the interior.
As the last of Al-Harithi's caravan snaked its way eastwards, laden with Batembo ivory, Jabari felt a surge of grim triumph. This was the fuel for his growing kingdom. More guns, more resources, more power to consolidate, to build, to prepare.
But even as the dust settled, another runner arrived, this one from a newly allied village far to the south, near the lands of the Hehe. His message was terse, delivered with wide, fearful eyes.
"Ntemi! More sun-haired men! A different tribe from Steiner's, their flag shows a different beast! They are many, more than Steiner ever had, and they march with soldiers in red coats, like angry soldier ants. They build no fort, but they move with purpose towards the north, asking many questions about the chief who defeated the Germans, about the Ntemi Jabari of the Batembo."
Kaelo felt a familiar coldness touch Jabari's heart. Redcoats. That could only mean one thing: the British. Far more powerful, far more organized, far more relentless than any German trading company. The brief respite was over. The shadow from the coast was not just lengthening; it was taking on new, more formidable shapes. The forging of his realm had to accelerate, for the echoes from Europe were no longer whispers; they were the tramp of approaching armies.