Slavery

Youmna MAKSOUD, Première

• Mama, do you still remember?
• What do you mean Lila?
• Do you still remember?

Notice how Lila didn’t have to explain herself? I understood. And, I remember… Of course, I remember. How can I forget? The scars are still there … on my body, in my heart, and in the deep abyss of my soul. But I love her so much that I will never be able to tell her. She does not have to live the horrors that led us here. My mother tried to protect me but the evil man was mightier. It is my turn today to shield my daughter from this horrible memory that is entirely strained with sweat, blood, and devastating heartache.

When the white man landed, we were fascinated. Little did we know that his arrival was the beginning of our end. As a family. As a village. As human beings. They had the power. They had the guns. They had the chains. We tried to defend ourselves and our land but our spears and arches were ridicule. We succumbed. Those who resisted heavily were slaughtered on the spot. As for the rest of us who were deemed “useful” to them, we were abducted, uprooted and dragged in chains to the shore. The big boat was eagerly waiting for us as if we had important missions to accomplish behind the blue seas. Before embarking us, our guardians undressed us totally and segregated us by gender. My uncle went with the men and I followed in the footsteps of my mother. When we reached the top of the ramp leading to the dock, I turned to take a last look at my home. My heart sank at the sight of my trees and my rocks, of my birds and my cats, of my people standing there and staring at this cattle climbing the stairs of the dark doom that was awaiting. And then it struck me: the guards did not only take our clothes, it was our dignity that they stripped off. I saw it. It was laying there in the muddy soil just next to the pile of wraps. This glimpse was the last of my homeland and the first of my agony. It costed me the burden of a whip that lashed on my bare back, tearing my young skin and bursting my blood. My mother came to my rescue and had to endure the same treatment. For the sake of myself and the ones I love, I complied. My soul crushed, and my heart sinking in sorrow, I bowed my head and accepted my fate. I became a slave…

I followed my mom and the other women to the lower decks. They removed our chains and packed us in a minuscule confined space with no windows, no light and no air. Accustomed to the open air of our African village, many of us suffered in the dreadful conditions of this tight dungeon. Some were vomiting, others were relieving themselves where they sat and slept, and many got sick. Yellow skin. Rashes all over the body. Fever. Coughing. Those who were not strong enough perished, and their bodies thrown at the sea. The survivors were acting at the ruthless orders of their warden. We were rowing, cleaning and wiping. Ironically, they had to keep us healthy so we can be sold at a good price. So, they made us dance and they made the men jump in pairs in their shackles and they were amused by it. Women were constantly abused and raped at the pleasure of the captain and his aides. Many of them did not survive the horrendous brutality. One evening, my uncle’s wife was dragged to the upper deck and when she returned few hours later, she was mortified and bruised. She bled to her death and no one was able to assist her. My mom held back her tears. But for the millionth time, she wore her strong face and told me that everything will be fine. I wanted to believe her, I really did, but the crack in her voice betrayed her. She was broken. We were all broken.

We were on the upper deck when my mom conveyed to her brother the horrific demise of his beloved wife. He stared at the ocean with empty and cold eyes. He told my mom that his soul was born free and he will not die in bondage. He climbed on the rails, looked at me and gave me a glorious and hopeful smile before jumping in the waves.

So yes, Lila, I do remember. I recall every single moment of my voyage. But, I will not disclose them to you. Our fate is sealed and our lives are dictated by the masters. Why tell you the horrors that brought us here? What hopes can I give you? I have none. My baby, you ask me if I remember. I do. I wish from the deepest bottom of my heart that I didn’t. But, I do. I wish I can erase these memories so I can stop the suffering.

What good will it do to you if you knew?

What is worse than being a slave?

To remember. To remember the day when you were free.