The Real Jargon of Pain

I still remember that journey. That tiresome journey from my village to a place I knew not. It has been embedded into my heart. It is still an ember in my dying heart.

“Wake up criminal.Did you think you will lie here forever?,” a gruff voice said as someone shook me roughly. I looked through the tiny hole in our congested cell and saw a streak of light pass through it. Yes it was already morning . A morning full of woes for I was to be sold away. I struggled to stand up but remembered that both my hands and legs were chained to the wall. This is how we had to live like dogs that had no masters. Stray dogs that could transmit diseases. Do you know why? It is because we were (I still am) black. The chain binding me was unhooked from the wall. I was suddenly jerked towards the door.  I had not eaten or drank anything for three days. I was as weak as a blade of grass in the breeze. Only that the temperatures of the small stone walled cells were beyond boiling point.

I was not the only one. We were about twelve girls, seventeen women and twenty one men. Our chief was there looking at us gleefully. Yes, this greedy hyena had no cattle to sell and his best alternative was to sell us. Do you know who we were? Criminals. I was a criminal for refusing to lie with him. How could I be  the seventeenth wife of a seventy year old chief? I wanted someone as young as me, whom I could cherish and love.  Anyway, those dreams were shattered.

As he passed near me, he wagged his finger at me and I spat on his feet. I realised that he was as barefoot as all of us. The only thing that distinguished him was the old loincloth he wore. “Even after…” my thoughts were not complete before a hot slap landed on my cheeks. Tears blinded me but I did not let them fall. I was so proud, the peacock would have faltered. No way was I going to cry. However, this was not to be. I saw my mother as one of the onlookers. She had come with my three brothers to bid me farewell. Through their puffy eyes I could tell they had been crying. Where was my father? Nowhere. He was one of those who had plotted for my arrest. All for a jar of beer, a plate of spices and four heads of cattle. This made my tears spill. All that betrayal from my own father I felt myself arise him although it was too late.

My youngest brother tried to come to me but one of the British officers hit him hard with the gun. I was very angry and tried to struggle from the chains but this only made him incite me. Again, he hit my brother with the end of his gun on that delicate head. I saw my brother fall, he did not even get a chance to scream. Around him was a red liquid that even someone as primitive as I was then, knew it was blood. My mother rushed towards him screaming, followed by my two brothers. I could do nothing but watch. Suddenly, three more shots were heard. My mother and brothers all lay in a pool of blood-dead. They had killed my family. To them it was an enjoyable sport. To me, a bitter soul and a broken heart.

Denial clouded my heart. I still did not believe they were dead. I was to be at their funeral. However, I was whisked away but not before I saw them throw my family’s bodies in a vehicle. I really wished at that time that my father would burn wherever sinners burned. That frightfully long journey, with the death of my entire family in my mind ( I no longer considered my father as family) was full of dread. All women walked at the front, followed by old men then by young men. Yes, at these times, women were considered weaker compared to old men.

We found a ship waiting, only I didn’t know it was a ship for I was only used to fishing boats and canoes carved from trees. I was surprised to find so many of my kind there, yet they spoke in different languages. Before reaching our destination, we were roughly treated. Some of us were beaten while women were raped. Men watched all this but could do nothing. The brave ones were killed and thrown to sea. Some of us were malnourished for lack of food. This earned me painful strikes all over my body.  Some people would be able to escape the British man’s watchful eye and throw themselves into the water. Their attempts to swim were futile and some ended sinking. Such thoughts had crossed my mind but funny enough, there still was this hope that someday all that would change…”

The old woman would not continue talking. She had revealed something that she had not let anyone else know. The murder of her beloved family before her eyes, the treachery of the chief, the betrayal of a father, the brutality of those who sold  them into slavery. She could have shared so much with us but we gave her a break. We do not ask whether she was married nor did she have any children. That also would have been a painful past.

Yes, that is why we fought for independence. For the lives of our loved ones . Let’s not lose our grip on freedom. Move on and keep fighting. No one is a slave to a man. We are all masters to ourselves. Never forget that.

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