The djemaas, the palaver for conflict transformation, was a way to build sustainable peace between parties. Xola loved them, partly because he simply loved drama, but mostly because they represented opportunities for people to be real and raw with one another. The way Xola conceived it, conflict was a springboard to further develop people and character. “People development work takes time and effort,” he often said, and it became the heart of building the Muungano alliance. Without it, there was no real community. The sessions could drag on. He let people put their sides out there, all the things bothering them, any which way they wanted to tell it. Then came the probing questions designed to elicit the true heart of the issues. Then any affected parties were encouraged to speak their piece, to share stories of each party, and to reflect back to them how they were seen by the community that loved them. Only then did the dialogues begin, identifying hurts, determining acceptable goals, adding new perspectives. Disembedding the conflict from where it was and—by shaping a series of tasks—embed it elsewhere. He brought the parties to the table with the goal of withdrawing from the conflict, so they could work out their own self-sustaining process to move forward. Xola used humor to make everyone relaxed and remind them that we all wanted the same thing.

“I don’t have time for your shit,” Maulana began. “Muungano doesn’t have time for your shit.”

“Camara.” Bayard lowered his voice. Since the Camara himself was a part of the conflict, at least one other Ijo elder needed to be present. We could only guess at the strange combination of emotions he might be experiencing in this role.

“No. Time. We gird ourselves for war, and no one can afford to be distracted by our nonsense. Bayard, ask the questions.”

“How do you feel about Wachiru?” Bayard asked him.

“I love him like a son.” Maulana faced us. Though his face remained hidden, he paused. His voice betrayed him with the hint of a crack he quickly recovered from. “I respect the work he’s done. I’m proud of the man he’s grown into and look forward to see what he’ll do in the future. I need him to keep challenging me at every turn to check my course.”

“Wachiru?” Bayard asked.

Caught off guard by the candor of his admission, we falter before following suit. “Maulana is an example of the man we want to be. Honorable. True. Honest about his flaws, yet always striving to be better. Never afraid to fail in the name of trying to love the people in his life the best way he knows how.”

“What don’t you like about each other?” Bayard asked.