Anyika - slave girl

Anyika – slave girl1

I stood and stared as the traders rode into our village. I could do nothing; only stand and watch as they roughly pulled us into carts, piled onto each other, shoved and hauled about like donkeys. I stood and stared until I was finally thrown into the cart along with the rest of my village, and the air was filled with the horrible wailing of the captured people. I watched as those who resisted were tied together, and onto the back of the cart. At the time I wondered why the traders did not whip those men into obedience, but now I understand. Who would want to buy damaged goods?  We were the cargo, and the faulty were useless. 2

We did not know where we were going on this journey of ours. There wasn’t anything for us to eat, or drink, and nothing to do but reflect on our situation. We were not happy. I am not sure how long our trip took. It could have been hours or days, and I think most of us were too miserable to notice. 3

But by and by, we came to a coastal town, and a port, where a ship waited for its load. To my horror, we were handed up to the crew, and checked to see if we were fit. Then I was tossed into the hold, and packed in beside others already waiting to sail. And what a smell greeted me! Human filth, and the reek of sweat and fear, filled the hold. And what a sound! Weeping, and screaming. The hopeless sound of so many souls trapped in such a dire place. I promptly fainted. 4

Daylight did not come in our prison, and only more African villagers arrived. I soon woke up and craned my neck, seeking my family. I could not see them. 5

The boat sailed that day, and kept sailing for what seemed an eternal limbo in the dark. We were fed some kind of slop (it was kitchen waste, mixed with water or sour milk) once a day, and stale water was passed around with it. There were no lavatories, and we lay in our own muck. We were all ill. 6

A storm blew up once. We were tossed, and piled on each other, rolling from side to side as the ship pitched and tumbled. In the morning the captain found that fifteen of us were dead, crushed and broken by the sheer weight of so many bodies. He was worried - he had lost as much as twelve hundred dollars overnight. I prayed that little Onsongo was not among the dead. 7

Then one day, we arrived. Where, I did not know, but I was glad to see the sun, however foreign. We were scrubbed, and polished up, and then we were sold. I can not explain that day; how I waited to see my family sold off, my mother and father, and little Onsongo. 8

I, a young, fit girl, as I was then, was renamed ‘Rebecca’ and sold to a pale white man in breeches.  And I was taken in midday heat, far away from there. I was whipped when I stumbled into another cart, and spat at. How far I was from home, and how I missed it. 9

At last we got there, though where ‘there’ was, I did not know. I was paraded in front of the master then sent to a small shack, the girl’s house. I was told that I was a field slave, and that I must get up early the next morning to start work. 10

Work was hard. A drudging chore; to pick cotton seeds, and throw them into a basket. By the end of the day, my back and arms ached, and I was dizzy and parched from lack of water. Our baskets were weighed. If we did not have enough, we were flogged. 11

I will not list the details of my life. Only that I had a hard master, and an even harder overseer. And that I did try to escape, but was caught, and tied to a post, and given a hundred lashes of the whip for my efforts. Then, I was but fourteen years of age. 12

But it has not been all bad. I have been lucky. Many have died here, or been used as pleasure for the white workers, or worse. I have not. And often, we slaves make better friends than any other white brats, and I have a few that are as dear as sisters to me. I found little Onsongo, now a strong, tall lad, and my firmest friend of all. And he has told me rumours of a thing called ‘the underground railway’ and of slaves disappearing into freedom. 13

And now I am sixteen. I am married already, with one child, for we are expected to have children at thirteen, and we marry just as early. I fear I will live and die here, a slave still, and my children too. I only pray we may escape, and live to tell this tale. And I have hope.14

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