They stopped at Zara's childhood home first. Her parents were sitting on the porch, shelling peas, and her mother let out a cry of joy when she saw her daughter. They embraced tightly, and Zara introduced Chen and Maya, explaining why they'd come. Her father, his arm still slightly crooked from where it had been broken, listened quietly as Zara spoke, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and worry.
"We've been trying to keep things together," he said, leading them inside. "But it's getting harder. They raised the price of water again last week, and they're telling everyone that if they don't sign new contracts by the end of the month, they'll be evicted from their homes entirely."
Over the next few hours, word spread that Zara had returned, and neighbors began to gather at her family's home—at first just a few, then more, until the small living room was full. They spoke in hushed voices, telling Chen and Maya about the things they'd endured—lost crops, stolen livestock, threats against their children. But there was also a spark of hope in their eyes as Zara told them about the network, about the people who were willing to stand with them.
"We can't do this alone," she said, looking around the room at the faces of her neighbors. "But we don't have to. These people have helped communities just like ours take back control, and they're not here to take over—they're here to help us build something better."
One of the younger farmers, a man in his twenties named Jermaine, spoke up. "We tried before," he said. "And look what happened. What makes this time different?"
"Because this time, we're not just fighting for ourselves," Zara replied. "We're part of something bigger now. And we're not going to let them divide us again."