Day 1
The worst possible has happened I have had my home stricken from me by a white skinned demon and am now delimited to a water bound hell. Each lapping wave from the tempestuous sea that carries us to our unknown destination takes a small part of my resolve in its wake. I am fettered to a long pole and my movements are restricted by a chain which runs through the various binds of my neighbours.
Once the white men took one of our number out of this place, although I think that it is not out of any form of kindness as he came back pained the smell of burning flesh following close behind. I sit here next to members of the mugimbi tribe and as such there is not much for conversation; the chafing of my binds burns me just as many a question burns my mind. What is this place? Why are we here? Is this hell? Am I dead? I hope that the answers will come to me before long because I sense that I will not be leaving this place soon.
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Day 12
I am still locked in this place. It has become difficult to distinguish night from day, to distinguish the smell of decay emitting from the first of our number to pass away, mostly children, and the smell of our own excrement. But it is not the smell that bothers me it is the cacophony of children's screams and women's cries, this is inhuman! These white men must come from hell. It has become unbearable. If I do not leave this place soon then I shall truly lose what little sanity I have been able to rescue from the abominable power of the waves. I have yet to be taken out and burned by the hand of the white demon, it is happening more frequently now, as if they do this to us in order to pass the time. Monsters. Recently I have found a form of salvation. It was so obvious I cannot believe it took me up to this point to realise it. We could call upon the Gods through tribe song. Prayers must not have been heard but when we sing I can feel the power of the Gods flow through me once more.
Day 34
I do not believe we will ever leave this place. The white demons must be waiting until we are all dead. Just under a quarter of us have surrendered to eternal sleep ceasing their cries and escaping this nightmare. It must only be a matter of time before I too contribute the putrid atmosphere. It has improved a little though, I truly believe there is an angel amongst the demons, although he too speaks in tongues he seems to have the capacity for mercy, he washed us out and removed the liquid remains of those who had passed on, he even gave me some more food. Perhaps these men are not demonic but simply misguided?
Fear has left me now, as if it was flowing through my veins for so long that I no longer had the power to hold it so that it seeped out the pores. Also we have created a worship dance that is possible considering our current restricted movement, the limbo. We sing and clap and try to lower ourselves below the bar that binds us, it is almost symbolic. The white men do not like it when we do this they seem to wish to stop any sort of bonding between us. Perhaps this is to prevent us from overpowering them, however if we are so bound I cannot think of how we could do so unless of course we are one day to be relased!
Day 42
I was taken above today. It was the first time I had seen the sky in far too long, my limbs were sore and weakened from the restriction of movement and lack of exercise. I did not realise what they wanted me to do but I think that they were just doing it for their own enjoyment. How one could be so inhuman I do not know, they brought the fury of their tarred leather whip upon me. Slashing at my flesh, removing the skin from my back until I convulsed with pain. They laughed. I did not mind so much that they turn their fury upon me but I cannot accept that they do this to women and children. I was thrown back down into the darkness, bound again onto the pole sitting in a pool of my own blood.
Day 43
I feel myself slipping away now, my surroundings fading into insignificance, I accept death. I welcome it. Invite it. Darkness is consuming me, this will me my last entry, thank you for allowing me to collate my thoughts. adieu.
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African Slave’s Desperate Journal Entries on a Slave Ship. (2017, Oct 05). Retrieved from https://phdessay.com/a-slaves-diary/
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