Tyto Capensis

The sun was particularly hot as Abayomi stretched widely. His arms went way above his head and he stood on his tip toes to make the absolute most of the movement. The warmth of the sun’s rays on his bare chest felt good and welcome. He had been stuck inside his hut too long working on his spear. It had gotten dull with use. It was his father’s old spear but he was proud of it.

The local griot was sitting by the fire playing a kora softly. Abayomi’s mother was beside him cooking stew.

“Aba…Come here,” she said.

Abayomi grabbed his spear and walked towards his mother, his feet grinding into the dirt and sand underneath, creating a pleasant crunch sound as he went closer.

“If you are going out to fish you need to go now or you will miss dinner,” she said.

Abayomi bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek before heading off toward the water. The sounds of the forest followed him like a shadow, dancing in his ears as he slowly walked toward the creek that was not far from his home. He was hoping to bring home some fish to go with dinner. His father was out hunting and would be gone a few days longer and it would be nice to have some extra meat. He could hear the birds nearby as well as the bugs all around him. The leaves rustled on either side of him as he brushed past.

He walked happily, his spirits high. Today had been a good day. He had food and water and his family was safe.

Suddenly Abayomi heard something that did not fit with the sounds of the forest he was used to. He jumped off the path he used and behind a nearby tree, his spear at the ready in his hand.

Voices came from nearby. He could differentiate at least two men. By the deep tones of their voices, they were large men. He stayed hidden until they passed. After a few moments without hearing them, he stood slowly in a crouch and walked back toward the trail. Moments later, everything went dark.

Abayomi woke with a pounding headache, the throb pulsing behind his ears and making it hard for him to hear the sounds around him. He opened his eyes but everything was fuzzy and it hurt to focus too hard. He could hear moans. People were talking as well but these people were different. They didn’t sound like he did and the words that came from their mouths sounded funny and illegible.

Scared, he forced his eyes open further. The room swayed before him. It was dark but he could still see. He was almost sick from the movement of the room and he thought it was due to his headache until he realized that he was quite literally moving. The floor below him was rocking back and forth slowly. He looked around and saw six other boys his age. Two were knocked out as he had been, blood streams dried to their faces. The other three were awake. Two were scared with their arms around their knees and one was ferociously angry, his teeth baring as if he was a wild cat.

“Where are we?” Abayomi said softly, his ears pounding as he did so. He raised his hands to grab his head but they were stopped short. He heard the metal clink of the shackles that tied him to the ground. The same metal bit into his wrists angrily and harshly.

“We have been taken,” said the angry one, turning to look at him, “Is that not obvious?”

“Yes, but who took us?”

“Slave traders,” piped up one of the younger scared ones, looking up from behind his knees.

Abayomi’s stomach dropped and for a moment he thought he would vomit right there. He bit his own tongue to dull the shock and bring himself back to reality.

“It is only three men,” the angry one said again, “and I think I could take them if I could get out of these damn chains.”

Abayomi looked down at the shackles that bound him to the floor of the ship and studied them harder. Thick metal chains were holding him down with round metal loops that went around his hands and ankles. The chain was looped through a hole in the floor and their was a large rusted lock tying it to itself through the hole. He grabbed onto it and tugged but nothing budged. He had seen chains like these before. White men had introduced them and they were not easy to break. His father had been leery of them and apparently for good reason.

He leaned his head back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. Apparently someone had struck him on the head when he came out of the forest that day. How long he had been here he didn’t know. His eyes hurt and his ears hurt even worse. He took deep breaths, concentrating on making the air go in through his mouth and back out through his nose.

What seemed like several hours passed in relative silence as the group of them sat quietly, listening to the waves hit the side of the boat and the footsteps overhead of their captors. The creaking of the boards beneath him was almost comforting and Abayomi was reminded of a song his mother would hum while making dinner. Night came and went and with its departure came small rays of light shining through the boards above him. His stomach growled angrily and his mouth was so dry that his lips were cracked. He said nothing. He would not be broken by this.

After a few hours of sun had warmed them a pair of worn leather boots descended down the ladder on the other side of the room. The boots were followed by a pair of skinny legs enveloped in overly large pants and and skeletal chest. The head was almost as frightening. The long white and gray beard reached halfway down the mans chest but his head had no hair at all. With him was a sack and a single jug of what Abayomi assumed was water. The man pulled out a metal weapon and pointed it at all of them speaking a few words that he did not understand. He did not need to though. The message was clear. Do not move. Abayomi had heard tales of the white mans weapon and the fire that came from the end of it followed by pain and death for the person it was pointed at. He knew better than to challenge the man most especially when he was already restrained.

The man put the jug of liquid in the middle of them and dropped the sack as well. He walked across the room and picked up a bucket and placed it close. Abayomi could assume what this was for as well, as he sat with his bladder hurting him. The man turned around and walked back to the ladder. With one last glance of malice, he was gone. The scared one that had not spoken the day before looked up at the water and went for it. After a long swig he opened the sack and pulled out something that resembled very old bread. It was hard and had spots on it. Abayomi did not partake.

The rest of the day passed in silence again with nothing more than the sounds of the sea and their own breathing to keep them company. Abayomi had been the first to use the bucket followed by the others. Most had eaten but he had not. He was afraid of the food and the water. Afraid it was not safe. He knew that eventually he would have to drink but for how he was okay and he was going to stay that way as long as he could.

As Abayomi sat with his body rocking slowly back and forth he spent the time thinking of his family. His father had told many war stories throughout his life. He had told him of battles and fights that would make Abayomi scared and proud all at the same time. Nothing though had prepared him for this hour. Abayomi could not think of one time that his father had been captured. He could not think of any advise to help him in this situation either. He truly felt trapped and large tears welled up behind his eyes. Despite himself, one of them escaped and made a trail down his face, washing away the dirt and blood of the days before and leaving a clean streak on his dark black skin to shimmer in the little bit of light left by the slowly setting sun.

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost choking him as he did so.

His sleep was uneasy, constantly woken as he was by the cries of his fellow captives or the whoops and jeers of the men above deck. His stomach was hurting him and his mouth was so dry he could barely open it. Finally he fell into a twilight sleep, the images of his home coming back to him as he was rocked into slumber by the ocean.

His father approached him from the edge of the camp, walking toward him slowly with his large spear in one hand and a sack of something in the other. Abayomi grinned widely. His father wasn’t supposed to be home today. He wasn’t due to be home until tomorrow. He looked to his mother by the fire but she was not there. The fire was burning hotly and the pot of stew she had been tending was still bubbling. Abayomi turned again and saw that the griot was also gone. In fact, the entire camp seemed to be empty. Abayomi’s heart rate pulsed as he looked around, confused at the sudden loss of his tribe. He turned back and to his relief his father still stood in front of him, tall and steady.

His father was a large man. The largest in the camp. He was well over six and a half feet tall with huge, broad shoulders and a large head. His hands were so wide that with only one he could pick up an entire antelope skull.

His mother kept telling Abayomi that one day he would be as big as his father.

Abayomi looked up at his father’s broad face and watched as his mouth spread into a wide, toothy grin. His father dropped his spear, letting it clang to the ground beside him and raised his other arm high. The bag was hanging from his right hand. Abayomi reached up and took the bag from him, cradling it in both hands carefully. There was something alive in the bag and it startled him to feel it. His father reached forward and untied the bag, letting it fall around the creature, revealing a huge African grass owl. The creature was truly magnificent with its large cream colored round face surrounded by darker gray fathers. His chest was darker cream and spotted. As Abayomi watched, it spread its wings wide, stretching them far out on either side of Abayomi’s face. A loud and high pitched screech came from the creature, so loud that Abayomi almost dropped him to cover his own ears. With a few flaps of his wings, the owl soared up above their heads and off over the tree tops toward the Savana to their south.

Abayomi looked back down and saw his father’s grin grow even larger.

With a start, Abayomi woke. There was a load crack of thunder outside the ship, followed by a flash of light so bright that he was blinded by it. Shutting his eyes hard and looking down at his feet, Abayomi gripped his hands into fists. The crew above were panicking and running back and forth across the deck.

“What is going on?” The youngest of them asked shyly.

It was the angry one that answered.

“We are on fire.”

It was true, even though Abayomi had not realized it at the time. The lightening had struck the ship and they were on fire. The waves were beating them hard, tossing the ship around like a leaf at the top of the tallest tree. Abayomi wanted to vomit but there was no food in his stomach to come up so instead he tucked his head into his knees and wept. The owl had brought the storm.

Before he knew it, everything had gone from bad to worse as the ship was ripped apart beneath their feet. Abayomi was upside down, hanging from the ceiling that used to be the floor, his chains the only thing holding him in place as the wind whipped at them violently and the waves tore apart the wooden boards of the ship. Suddenly the boat turned right again and Abayomi was thrown to the ground. A large pole, that could only be the mast of the ship, fell through the ceiling, killing the youngest and cutting the ship in half with a crack that felt as if the very earth beneath them had opened up to swallow them whole. Then everything went dark.

Abayomi woke to the sunshine of the morning once again with a pounding in his head and ears that did make him vomit this time. The acidic bile of an empty stomach tore at the soft skin in his mouth as he heaved into the water. His body was bruised and broken but somehow he was alive, floating on a piece of the ship. He looked around to see boards and barrels, boxes and beams, all floating around him haphazardly. The water was tossing him still but the storm had passed. This was simply an angry sea complaining that he was a part of it. The salt burned the cuts on his body but somehow had a cleansing affect as well. He felt refreshed. Most importantly he felt alive. The shackles were still on his ankles but the ones on his wrists were gone, leaving behind angry red welts in their place. He took a deep breath and looked around once more. He could see no one else.

In the distance though, so far that he could almost not see it at all, he could see land.