Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

WHYDAH, DAHOMEY, WEST AFRICA

Afia shuffled slowly forward, dragged by the chain connecting her to the woman in front of her as they were pushed and pulled up the boarding ramp onto the slave ship.

After two days in the pens, the women and children had been transferred to a compound where the conditions were a little better. They were still chained and locked up behind bars, but they had blankets for bedding and were given plenty of water and a ration of bread and stew each day. They had buckets to piss and shit in which were emptied daily.

She tried to ask the guards what happened to the men but got no answers until one of the women who spoke Portuguese asked them for her. The men were in a different compound. They, like the women, were being held for transportation on a slave ship due out of port in three weeks. Her heart sank at this news, and as it spread like wildfire among the women, the wailing started up again. Which set the children off crying too.

A man came to look at them, she learned he was the captain of the ship they would be travelling on to the Caribbean, a pale faced Portuguese with an unpronounceable name. He had stared at her where she sat chained to her spot on the wall and a shiver ran down her spine.

She saw him now on the deck of the ship, conversing with another pale faced man. An Hispanic looking woman stood with them. She was generously curved with black hair coiled on top of her head. She wore a scarlet gown, it looked expensive. His wife perhaps?

He broke off his conversation and came over to observe the conga line of female slaves as they inched forward, yoked together by the collars round their necks. His dark eyes caught hers and widened. He grinned and said something to one of the men with crops who were pushing them along. He pointed at her, and the man came over to her and un-yoked her from the woman in front of her and pulled her out of the line.

Her heart skipped and thudded, panic licked up her spine as the Captain, Perez, his name was, came over and grabbed her upper arms, turning her this way and that to look at her. He laughed and said something to the man in Portuguese. She had been listening to the language for over three weeks now and could pick out the occasional word. What is going on? What does he want with me?

He pulled her towards the woman in the red dress and said something to her. She looked round and said something back, sharply. Then she nodded.

He turned back to Afia and startled her by speaking Fon, the dialect was similar enough to her own for her to understand him, despite the heavy foreign accent.

“You will serve my woman. Meese Ana!” He emphasised the name as he waved at the woman in red. “You cause trouble, back in the hold with the rest of the slaves! Comprendo?”

Afia nodded swallowing. Azaka be praised! What a reprieve? She glanced back at the other women shuffling towards the entrance to the lower deck. She felt bad for them, she had made friends with some of them in the past few weeks. But the thought of not having to enter the confines of the deck and be chained to a wall like a dog, brought tears of gratitude to her eyes.

“Thank you!” she said. Then in Portuguese, “Obrigado!”

He nodded, “Intelligente!” He pushed her towards Meese Ana who looked her over and turned towards the lower deck, a different entrance than the one the slaves were using. This one went in under the quarterdeck and led to a large and luxuriously furnished cabin at the rear of the ship.

Meese Ana waved at a jug of water and a bowl and said “wash!” Afia blinked at the strange word and then comprehension dawned. She nodded, “wash!”

While Afia washed the grime off her body, the other woman produced clothing. Nothing like what Afia would wear, this was a gown cut to fit her body, with lacing to cinch in the waist and show off its shape. It was worn over a white undergarment that showed above the neckline and below the hem.

Meese Ana pulled the lacings tight and tied them in a bow and smiled. Afia smiled tentatively back. She then offered Afia a plate piled high with bread, fruit and cheese.

Afia blinked at it, her eyes filling with tears and her mouth salivating. “For me?” she asked, pointing to herself.

Ana nodded.

“Obrigado! Obrigado!” she said reaching tentatively towards the plate. Ana let her take the plate and poured her a cup of something from a carafe. Afia sank into a squat, nursing the plate and taking a slow bite of bread and cheese. The salty flavour of the cheese and the sweetness of the fruit complimented the hard bread and tasted like mana on her tongue. She forced herself not to gobble it all down at once, chewing slowly and interspersing with mouthfuls of the wine in the cup.

When she had eaten all she could, which was disappointingly little, her stomach was so shrunken from the poor rations she had been living on, she burped politely and tried to ask her new mistress what she could do for her.

It took a bit of pantomime to get her meaning across but eventually Meese Ana understood. In the process she increased her vocabulary of Portuguese words as Ana explained painstakingly what her requirements were. Afia was to care for her gowns, help her to dress and fetch and carry for her. She would sleep on a pallet by the door. And Ana would teach her more Portuguese.

The ship was due out of port in a few hours, as soon as the last of the slaves were loaded. The men, she learned, were loaded yesterday. Omari must be somewhere on the ship. Perhaps she could find him? Azaka be praised for this stroke of good fortune.