In the verdant realm of Luango, where the cassava grows tall and the ocean brims with fish, there lived a peasant named Tchicaya. Known far and wide for his hard work and great fishing skills, Tchicaya tended a magnificent field of saka and boasted a splendid new canoe.
One rare, bright morning, as the saka reached its prime, it seemed the sea itself offered its bounty in thanks to Tchicaya's prayers to Mwe Tchikabissi, the guardian spirit of the harvest and sea. Ever vigilant, Tchicaya spent his days between his canoe and his saka fields, his hands as much in prayer as in labor.
But Tchicaya was not alone in his admiration of the lush saka. A clan of parentless children, known as the Black Orphans, roamed nearby. These were children left destitute by cruel fate — some bereft by death, others by the abduction of their parents for railway labor. Hungry and desperate, they turned to stealth and cunning to survive, becoming the cleverest pillagers of the land.
Each day, Tchicaya found his beloved field pillaged and his fish stores plundered. Tears of frustration turned to resolve; something had to be done. On a fateful morning, armed with his sharpest, heaviest knife, Tchicaya feigned death in a makeshift hut in the heart of his saka field, leaving the door wide open as an invitation to the unsuspecting thieves.
As dusk fell, the orphans, led by the cunning Muana Tie Tie, approached. Sensing something amiss with the still figure in the hut, they whispered apologies to the man they presumed dead from exhaustion, even as they prepared to take their fill. All gathered around, eager to see the still man, their voices echoing a melody bestowed by Mwe Tchikabissi, reminding them of their joyful resilience despite their sorrowful lives.