The decision of the war council, once taken, translated into swift, coordinated action. Kaelo, the twenty-first-century strategist inhabiting the mind of the eighteen-year-old Nyamwezi Ntemi, felt a grim satisfaction as Jabari dispatched his orders. This was no longer just about defending Batembo lands; it was a proactive, calculated campaign to bleed a technologically superior foe, to turn their perceived strength into a logistical vulnerability. It was a strategy of a thousand cuts, designed to frustrate, demoralize, and ultimately, expel.
Lبانجى of the Wanyisanza, his eyes blazing with a predatory light that mirrored Jabari's own newfound intensity, eagerly accepted command of the harassment force. With him went Juma, his keen observational skills now amplified by the spyglass, and the fifty warriors of the newly formed Nkonde sya Ntemi, their movements already showing the crisp discipline of their focused training. They were augmented by another hundred seasoned Batembo spearmen and a contingent of Lبانجى's own Wanyisanza trackers, men who could melt into the miombo woodland like morning mist. Their instructions were clear: avoid direct engagement with Kapteni Steiner's main force or his fortified camp. Instead, they were to be a constant, unnerving presence – ghosts in the long grass, striking at the periphery, targeting foraging parties, ambushing scouts, disrupting supply lines, and making every venture outside the fort's walls a perilous gamble for the Germans and their askaris.
Simultaneously, Jabari dispatched his most trusted and silver-tongued envoys, led by the experienced Bakari, not to Steiner, but to the scattered Nyamwezi villages cowering in the shadow of the German fort. Bakari's message was one of solidarity and strength: "Ntemi Jabari of the Batembo, who broke the Banyonga and humbled the Wasumbwa, now extends his shield to all Nyamwezi people suffering under the heel of these sun-haired strangers. Swear allegiance to the Batembo, contribute what you can to the fight – food, shelter for our warriors, information about the enemy – and you will be protected. Your lands will remain yours, your traditions honored. Stand alone, and you will be devoured."
The response was initially hesitant. Fear of Steiner's cannons and rifles was deeply ingrained. But as days turned into weeks, and tales of Lبانجى's daring raids began to filter through the region, a flicker of hope ignited.
Lبانجى and Juma orchestrated their campaign with a cunning that would have done credit to any of Kaelo's historical military heroes. Juma, using the spyglass from hidden vantage points, would identify vulnerable targets: a small group of Steiner's men sent to collect firewood, a foraging party seeking grain in a seemingly abandoned village, a lone messenger attempting to carry word south. Then, Lبانجى's warriors, guided by the Wanyisanza trackers, would strike – a sudden volley of Seke's new, razor-sharp harassing arrows from an unexpected quarter, a lightning-fast spear charge from dense cover, a nighttime raid that would see cattle driven off or stores of cut timber set ablaze. They rarely stayed to fight a pitched battle, inflicting casualties, sowing confusion, and then vanishing back into the wilderness before Steiner's better-armed patrols could effectively respond.
The psychological impact on the Germans and their askaris was significant. Reports reaching Jabari via swift runners described growing unease within the fort. Sentries were doubled, then tripled. Foraging parties refused to venture out without heavy escort, diminishing their effectiveness. Steiner, a man accustomed to colonial expeditions where native resistance was either swiftly crushed or non-existent, was reportedly furious, his drill-sergeant bellows echoing across the plains as he berated his increasingly jumpy men. His patrols, when they did venture out, found only empty bush or, worse, fell into cleverly laid ambushes, losing men to well-aimed spears or the occasional, surprisingly accurate musket shot from Jabari's Nkonde sya Ntemi.
Back in the Batembo ikulu, Kaelo processed these reports with a surgeon's precision, Jabari relaying the distilled intelligence and strategic adjustments to Hamisi and the council. The news from Lبانجى was mostly good, but there were Batembo casualties too – brave warriors lost in daring raids, trackers who ventured too close. Each loss was a pang in Jabari's heart, a grim reminder of the price of this resistance. Kaelo, more detached, logged them as unavoidable costs in a high-stakes campaign, though even he felt a growing, unfamiliar respect for the courage of these men fighting for their land with such primitive tools against such odds.
Seke the smith and his apprentices worked tirelessly. The demand for his improved spearheads and, especially, the small, viciously barbed harassing arrowheads, was immense. Kaelo had described to him the concept of mass production, of simplifying designs for faster output, of specialized tasks within the forge. Seke, a natural innovator, adapted these ideas to his Nyamwezi context, his output slowly but steadily increasing. They were still desperately short of firearms, and Kibwana's search for local saltpeter or sulfur alternatives for gunpowder had, so far, yielded little of practical value. Their reliance on traded powder was a critical vulnerability Kaelo was determined to address.
Boroga, now fully committed to his role as master of resources, organized the collection of food and supplies for Lبانجى's forces in the south, a task he performed with impressive efficiency, perhaps seeing it as his own contribution to the war effort. He also reported that the villages that had accepted Jabari's offer of protection were beginning to send regular tribute – small offerings of grain, dried meat, honey, and, most importantly, information about Steiner's movements and the morale of his men, often gleaned from fearful porters who had deserted the German camp. Jabari's sphere of influence was expanding, not through direct conquest, but through becoming the focal point of resistance.
After nearly a month of this sustained harassment, Kaelo judged the time was right for the diplomatic offensive. Kapteni Steiner, he reasoned, must be feeling the pressure. His expedition was likely behind schedule, its operational costs mounting, its local labor pool drying up as villagers fled or sought Batembo protection, and its primary mission – whatever it truly was beyond land-grabbing – severely hampered.
Jabari selected Bakari, the discreet trader and Mzee Kachenje's kinsman, to lead the delegation. With him went ten of the Nkonde sya Ntemi, not in their rugged campaign attire, but freshly oiled, their leopard skin adornments (for those who had earned them) prominent, their repaired and polished muskets held with a disciplined pride. They carried no tribute, only a carved message-stick from Jabari and a single, perfect ivory tusk as a gift "from one leader to another," a subtle reminder of the wealth Steiner was failing to access.
Their reception at the German fort, as Bakari later recounted, was initially hostile. The askari sentries were nervous and aggressive, their rifles leveled. The fort itself, though imposing with its log palisades and cleared firing lines, showed signs of strain – neglected repairs, a palpable air of tension. Kapteni Steiner, when Bakari was finally brought before him, was a bull of a man with a red, choleric face, a thick mustache, and cold blue eyes that burned with frustration. He was, Bakari noted, significantly thinner and more haggard than descriptions from Finch's porters had suggested.
Bakari, following Kaelo's carefully scripted instructions delivered through Jabari, remained impeccably calm and formal. He offered condolences for any of Steiner's men "lost to the harshness of the African bush or misunderstandings with local hunters." He then delivered Jabari's protest: the unprovoked attacks on Nyamwezi villages, the seizure of land and property, the capture of women and children – all, he stated, had occurred in lands under the sovereign protection of Ntemi Jabari of the Batembo, a great chief whose influence was acknowledged by all peoples from the Wasumbwa border to the Great Ruaha.
Steiner had exploded in a torrent of guttural German and broken Swahili, accusing Jabari of banditry, of attacking his peaceful expedition, and threatening to bring the wrath of his Kaiser down upon the Batembo. He brandished his treaty from the Sultan of Zanzibar, declaring his company's unimpeachable right to be there.
Bakari had simply waited for the storm to pass, then quietly reiterated Jabari's terms: an immediate cessation of hostilities against Nyamwezi villages under Batembo protection; the release of all captives; fair compensation for damages; and a formal negotiation with Ntemi Jabari if Steiner wished to conduct any future trade or travel in the region, for which appropriate tolls and respect would be required. As a final, carefully placed barb, Bakari mentioned that Ntemi Jabari was considering sending a delegation to the Sultan in Zanzibar himself, with gifts and proofs of his regional authority, to discuss these "misunderstandings" over treaties made about lands so far from the coast. Kaelo knew this would touch a nerve; the last thing a European company wanted was the Sultan questioning or revoking their often vaguely worded concessions.
Steiner, though still blustering, had visibly deflated at the mention of Zanzibar. He made no immediate concessions but promised to "consider" Jabari's message. He kept the ivory tusk, a sign, Kaelo interpreted, that he was not entirely ready to escalate to all-out war if a path to profit still existed. Bakari and his escort were dismissed, returning to Jabari with a wealth of observations about the fort's internal state: dwindling supplies, low morale among the porters, and Steiner's clear frustration.
"He is a wounded buffalo, Ntemi," Bakari concluded. "Still dangerous, but confused and bleeding. He does not understand why the land itself seems to fight him."
Jabari nodded, Kaelo's mind already formulating the next phase. The "thousand cuts" were working. Steiner was being isolated, his operational capacity degraded. The key was to maintain the pressure, to offer no respite, but also to avoid provoking a desperate, all-out retaliatory strike from his superior firepower.
He sent word to Lبانجى and Juma: continue the harassment, but with an emphasis now on intercepting any supply attempts to the fort. Capture goods, not just destroy them. And spread word among local porters that any who deserted Steiner and came to the Batembo would find safety and fair treatment. He also initiated, through Mzee Kachenje, quiet feelers to other Nyamwezi chiefs in the region, sharing news of Steiner's predicament and the Batembo's successful resistance, subtly positioning himself as the leader of a wider confederation against this new type of invader.
The forge of war was shaping more than just Jabari; it was shaping the Batembo people. They were learning new ways to fight, new ways to organize, new ways to see themselves not just as a clan, but as the heart of a growing power. Kaelo watched this transformation with a mixture of pride and trepidation. He was igniting a fire, a fire of resistance and ambition. His greatest fear was that it would either be extinguished by the overwhelming force he knew Europe could eventually bring to bear, or that it would burn out of his control, consuming everything in its path, including the very people he sought to protect. The shadow of the coast was long, but the lion's snare, woven with Nyamwezi courage and Kaelo's chilling foresight, was slowly, inexorably tightening.