THE TALES OF ADANA- THE CRIES OF SLAVERY
As I lay on my bed, with my knees almost touching my chest, and holding the left side of my pillow, I gave a deep sigh of relief as the cool breeze of silence washed over me...No! They don't understand, in fact no one understands what it feels like to be raised by a single mum, especially in this time!
"your father now dwells in the land of the wise" mum had told me... But aunt had countered with a different tale "your father deserted your mother after presenting him, with a bundle of joy"... " you"
Yes! Mother lied to me... But I understood anyway, mother was a she- male for my sake, "the salt and the pepper".
I began to take solace in my thoughts when the shouting continued once again; the shouting that had made me hold unto my pillow in the first place. I pressed the pillow hard, to cover my ears as tears slowly stole it's way to my eyes and soon held them hostage with a flood, but still I kept quiet, trying to be the strong young woman mum had groomed me to be..
It was uncle Badu again, suggesting to mum for the umpteenth time that I should be married off. Mum had pleaded with him earlier saying... "Even I had left the protection of my mother when I was 18,my Adana shall not leave my protection before that Age!"
Uncle had mistaken Mum's pleas for weakness and had returned tonight, and that was when mum lashed out, like a viper pregnant with venom. But uncle had continued to act like a beast whose cage had been rattled, and like two heavy weights they locked horns. But of course you would know that it is the ground who suffers the fight between two Elephants and in this case, I happened to be "the ground".
The argument soon ended, but surprisingly at sun set, Uncle called Mum out, to give her an "open apology" for the activities of the night before. The evening breeze was quite a charmer, thus, I was soon wooed by its songs of charm.
The sounds of heavy feet approaching sent me seating up, my ears so alert that for a moment I could hear heartbeats other than my own. But that alertness didn't save me. I was pulled out of the house by some hefty men, and I soon realised that uncle had a hand in it... "you can't marry me off forcefully" I had screamed as I pondered on how to make the life of this my supposed "new husband" unbearable. "if she cannot be productive to me, married, then she would definitely be productive this way". And one of the huge men hit me and I blacked out!
Waking up in the arms of a husband I didn't want to marry would have been far better than my present state. For how long I had been unconscious I wasn't aware but what I saw was down to earth frightening, it was like a nightmare, the worst nightmare ever!
The gods! I said in fright, looking all pale and white that you can see their veins, and they had different eye colours ranging from green, to Blue to grey; these are words I learnt later on...
One of them spoke to me, in a language I didn't understand but just before I could explain to him in my own dialect that I didn't understand what he had to say, a hot iron was placed on my back as the skin there seemed to melt and excruciating pain paralysed me, making me scream until I thought I would lose my voice. Yes! My uncle! My blood! Had sold me into slavery!
After some years, I got used to the life and even made new friends from other countries and villages but I hated to learn the language of my captors, so after many years I still refused to speak in their dialect, but I however understood.
We worshipped the God of the "white men" because we believed he answers prayers, so while working on the fields on an empty stomach we would plead with him to come and liberate us singing "O Lord... kumbaya! " kumbaya" the only way we could pronounce the white man's words of "come here".
I soon got transferred to another town where I worked as a household slave and when night drew near, my mistress would chain me to a post in the kitchen, and that was the place I slept each night.
An important visitor soon came to visit, a visitor I soon understood to be my mistress' s son. No! Don't go to the kitchen, there is a beast chained up in there she would say to him. A year ago I could have cried after hearing that comment but now I had a heart as strong as stone, or so I thought.
Men are such adventurers! so one day, my young Lord who happened to be about my age disobeyed his witch of a mother. She had caught him almost immediately, caught him staring at me, with daggers of passion in his eyes. He soon smiled, the first smile I had seen from the "transparent folk" as we learnt to call them. And while I stared on, his smiled broadened as he reached to touch me, "Do not touch that beast!" his mother had screamed...
And I remember his exact words that day... "she isn't a beast mum, she is a goddess, a beautiful goddess"...
To be continued...
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