The Boy Who Bridged the Divide (1)

For as long as anyone in the Jutimno Valley could remember, the two ethnic groups called the Tajis and the Mumnonis had lived in simmering hostility. Theirs was a relationship defined by mistrust, suspicion, and violence that erupted in deadly clashes, leaving behind grieving families and smoldering ruins. But a small act of kindness quietly planted a seed of change during one fleeting moment of peace.

One day, a hungry schoolboy named Toma wandered through the village outskirts, clutching his rumbling stomach. Toma was Taji but too young to understand the weight of the tribal hatred that surrounded him. His eyes fell on the house of a Mumnoni family, where the aroma of fresh, delicious meals filled the air. Desperation drowned out a caution, and he approached the doorstep timidly, knocking softly.

The Mumnoni woman who opened the door, Maris, looked down at the frail boy. She hesitated briefly, her husband's warnings about Taji children echoed in her mind, but the boy’s sunken cheeks and hopeful eyes melted her reservations. Without a word, she brought him inside and gave him madidi (local food), fried fish, and water.

Toma left the house that day with a full belly and a grateful heart. The next day, he returned, shyly knocking again. Maris welcomed him in, and so began a quiet friendship. Her family not only fed him but also occasionally paid his school fees when his parents could not. Over the years, Toma grew to see Maris and her family as his own.

Eventually, Toma finished school and left for his town, where he became a leader in the Taji militia. His gratitude for the Mumnoni family dimmed in the heat of his people’s anger and the rigid ideologies of war. When the fragile peace shattered and violence roared back, Toma found himself at the forefront of the fight.

One day, his militia raided a Mumnoni village, taking prisoners for what they called "justice" a euphemism for revenge. Among the captives was a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks and trembling hands. Her name was Liya, and Toma recognized her instantly. She was Maris's daughter, the girl who used to giggle and wave at him whenever he came to their home for food.

Toma felt a storm of emotions. He had seen countless captives before, but this was different. This was Liya, his sister in all but blood. His comrades talked of what would happen to the prisoners, their laughter sharp and cruel. Toma could not allow it.

That night, as the captives sat in silence, Toma and a few trusted friends crept into the holding area. He approached Liya and whispered urgently, "You have to leave. Now."

Liya's eyes widened in disbelief. "Toma? Why.....why are you doing this?"

*******(To be continued)******