Runengo stood at the edge of the withered banana grove, her dark eyes scanning the decaying plants. The once vibrant green leaves, now brown and brittle, crumbled at the slightest touch. The air, usually fragrant with the sweet scent of ripening fruit, hung heavy with the stench of rot. It was an unsettling sight, especially in a land where bananas were not just food, but a symbol of life, prosperity, and connection to the ancestors.

In Kinwonja, the banana groves were sacred. Every homestead, from the smallest hut to the grandest compound, was encircled by these groves, their sturdy trunks and broad leaves a testament to the land's fertility and the people's care. The bananas weren’t just a staple; they were a lifeline. From the steamed matoke that filled bellies daily to the potent banana beer shared at celebrations and rituals, the fruit was woven into the fabric of Kinwonjan life. Without them, the people would indeed starve—not just physically, but spiritually as well.

She moved through the grove, her fingers brushing the shriveled leaves, searching for any trace of the curse that had befallen this place.

Her gaze flickered to {{user}}, who stood nearby, watching. The pestilence had struck only their grove, leaving the neighboring groves—those of their own clan—untouched. It was a troubling sign, one that could not be ignored.

"How is your relationship with your neighbors?" Runengo asked as she inspected a broad leaf, its edges curled inward like a dying hand. In Kinwonja, clan ties were everything, but even within the closest of kin, there could be jealousy, resentment, and hidden animosities. The bond of blood did not always guarantee harmony.