For the Want of Tears
Narrative - An African Slave Being Shipped Across the Atlantic
It reeks. It smells of blood and urine and sweat and the decay of human bodies. The unmoving air hangs heavy on my face. It pushes against my skin and I try not to think about not being able to move. How long I have laid in this position I do not know. Has it been days? Weeks? A season? How long will we be here?!? I stop that thought. It only makes the hurt worse.
I try to focus my eyes on the boards above me. Through the dark, my eyes follow the grain of the wood, making shapes. There is the shape of a body, tiny little legs, and wings. I have decided this is like the little birds that used to hide in the tall grasses around my village. My mind wanders and I remember chasing those little birds with the other girls in my village. We would creep through the grass until we saw a bird and then jump out and try to catch it. We never succeeded, but what a wonderful game that was! This little wooden bird is my friend.
My mind is quickly brought back to the present as another woman beside me stirs in her sleep and groans at the pain it causes. I do not know if her poor, skinny body will last much longer. I cannot offer her any help, not any physical comfort at all. Even if they did bring water for our parched throats, it is foul and would likely do no good. The woman is not conscious enough to drink anyway. I start to sing, to soothe her with my voice. My chant calms her groans, but my voice quickly grows weak and raspy. I can’t soothe her long, but she sleeps again.
What kind of monsters hold us captive? They walk like men, but their skin is pale like the sand. They talk in strange tongues and hold sticks that throw fire and kill a man in one blink. I tremble thinking about this. I try to change my thoughts, but it is too late. The scene comes to my mind of my father falling backward, murdered by this weapon in the hands of an enemy tribe. What kind of cruel beings are these?
I shudder, but it hurts. Moving hurts. I am sore and stiff. I hurt. My stomach cramps and pains for food. My mouth and lips call for water. My muscles cramp, but I cannot stretch. My head hurts. My heart hurts. My nose recoils at the awful smell - the smell of suffering and death.
I hear a monster’s voice coming down from above. His voice is slurred. I do not know how the monsters cause their minds and voices to blur, but I know what happens when they do. This monster wants a woman. My whole body and mind is frozen in fear. I pray to whatever Gods may hear that I may be hidden in shadow and darkness. The voice moves the other direction. I hear metal move, and rasping screams. The screams pierce me. I know she does not have the strength to fight. I hear something strike flesh. The screams turn to moans and finally silence and I hear footsteps, with the sound of dragging behind.
I want to weep, but do not have the energy. My eyes burn for the want of tears. I can feel my body start to shake, but this only hurts. I force myself to be still. I want this suffering to end. I would rather be thrown off this wretched boat than suffer any longer. I want my life to end. I force myself to think of nothing. See nothing. Hear nothing. Smell nothing. Feel nothing. I want to be no longer. I want to exist no more.
