My name doesn’t matter. My existence is not unique. I do not live for myself. Those I live for don’t even think of me as an individual. They actually don’t ever think of me. I’m not even considered a person to these people. I am the object that’s existence is for their cruel torment. I no longer have an identity.

            &nb sp;   Before this current existence I had been an individual. I had a life, full of hardships and joys. My home was part of a small village in Ghana. We had been a family. We constantly worked to keep our lives substantial and to provide for our village family.  I had a husband and children in that life. My husband and I had been together through childhood in the same village. He had been my friend. It was a blessed day when the ceremony of our marriage brought us closer together. We labored through times of sorrow and war. He fought with the brethren of the village to protect us from our enemies. There were many times many of the men left to keep battles away from our home. When there was peace we got to be all together working as a family. We spent happy times together. When our first child came we were never filled with more joy and a sense of completeness.

As our family grew so did my heart. We were so close. We relied on each other for everything. If we didn’t we couldn’t survive. Love would get us through everything.  There were times our village would have to relocate for protection. We tried our best to prevent other tribes from conquering us. The idea of losing one’s family and becoming separated strengthened us to fight and work to stay together by any means possible. It was always devastating when friends had not been able to do enough to keep together and they would be taken. I was determined to do all in my power to never let that happen to my family. We had been successful in keeping our family together until the day we heard the load thunders and screams. I had never heard this type of thundering. There were no clouds in the sky. The sun was shining bright and hot. The screams became loader and suddenly chaos was consuming all my senses. I smelt burning fire, tasted black smoke, then saw the men with these long unusual rods. Smoke was issuing out from them.  People were running and falling dead when an explosion came from the rods in the direction of the person.  I didn’t know how I was going to find my children, my husband. I didn’t know if we were going to make it alive.

Immediately the whole village was surrounded by the men with the rods. They enclosed all of my people. I found several of my children and husband in the group. I was so relieved but still terrified for the rest of my family and what was to become of us.  The terror within me was so great I could hardly focus on  being taken by the men to a far place. I was separated from the rest of my family.  I was numb from the fear of not knowing what would happen to them, if I was ever to see them again. We  had been taken to a large building filled with so many others.  I learned from these people that we were to be put on a ship and sent across the sea. The dread for the safety of my family grew beyond what I thought I could bare. We were chained and treated brutally. I felt I was no longer the same person. The day we boarded the ship was the transition from having a life to scarce existence. I never would have imagined people could be in such horrible circumstances. How certain people could treat others so cruel.

I am still on the ship. My ankles and hands are chained together.  I cannot move. I can hardly breathe the smell of death is so thick in the air. The days have stretched longer than I can remember.  I know I will never see my family again. I do not know what lies ahead if I ever will get of this atrocious vessel or if I will die aboard. This cruelty is beyond anything I’ve heard.  I no longer want to live. The fear hovering in the air is squeezing life out of my soul. I want to be rid of this pain, this misery, this sorrow.  I ache for my children.  I pray they are not suffering as I am.  The memories of a life I once had is all that keeps me from being completely empty inside. I know that if I ever lose that then I will truly be nothing more than an object they believe me to be.

Tags: Slavery Sorrow Fear Terror Family Love

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