With backs almost crippled by the weight of our loads, it was
generally agreed that the expedition so far was a great success. We were ready
for market day in the Jokou, the local coastal town that in the past had given
our people a great reception, offering reasonable prices for our wares despite
awareness that we were quite dependent on their market, and really had few
other options. Not many Jokou residents would risk their lives for the
Fulmar egg delicacy. We also had our treasured ropes to sell, plus smoked fish and
our red cloth. In return we were after knives, axes and choppers.
These were implements that improved the quality of our lives. We
were also encouraged by our elders to be creative, to look out for anything
that took our interest, particularly pieces of art, clothing or any metal work
we could afford that looked interesting. Jokou was a town with a far
reach. We had met people who had travelled out from Jokou on long boats
and discovered lands far away were the sun's temperature was unbearable, and
the beaches stretched as far as the eye could see.
The tradition of the town was for foreign visitors to first
request an audience with the town headman. He was to be found in the central
market area in a high roofed stilted barn. This building acted as the
meeting place for the town, a seat of judgement, and the place where foreign
visitors usually spent the night. We knew that like all visitors to the
town, we would be extremely vulnerable. The central area was well
guarded, and visitors were essentially powerless to the whims of the headman.
Stories from the past had alerted us to this risk. The town often
became rowdy at night, with excessive drinking. Tilda spoke to us
earnestly, planning our mission carefully, with attention to ever detail.
As our leader she would meet with the headman. She also knew the
local language reasonably well. As we marched through the wooden gates,
past sentries who seemed almost reluctant to receive the usual bribes routinely
offered, as if they made no idea where they would put all this stuff, the local
population stopped what they were doing and stared. With faces firmly
fixed ahead we marched on to the central area and up to the great central barn.
Tilda stepped forward in the accustomed way, dropping on one knee before
the seated headman, and requesting permission to sell our produce in the market
that day. A payment of tax was made. I noted that Tilda bargained
with the officials, and they ended up laughing heartily. The headman was
clearly impressed with our leader. He invited her into the barn, two of our
company attempted to join her, but he held back at the door. I could see
the looks of concern on their faces. Tilda, we knew, had a fine, young
feisty character. She was beloved by all in our valley, and no doubt her
value was of far greater worth that all of the strange items we had hauled into
town that day. Anxiety spreading round our toupee, with strained looks we
marked the passing of time. As we stood waiting for Tilda's reappearance, curious
locals and shoppers began flocking into the central market area, fills up
the space like rising tidal waters. Just then two of our musicians hit
on a plan. Together they created an impressive drum roll, rising
and falling, and electrifying the crowd. Cheers went out, and our
bagpipes joined the din. The two members of our group who had tried to
follow Tilda now dived past the distracted guards into the dark void within.
They grabbed Tilda and before anything could be done, had her outside in
the melee, straight into our traditional foot stamping mesmeric dancing.
We started up our percussive hand clapping which soon ignited the
hundreds about us, and with bouncing, exhilarating steps driving round and
round. lifting our arms upwards and raising our voices until even the bagpipe
was a faint echo we joined together in our call to the sustainer. I knew
each one of us was feeling the terror of almost loosing Tilda. I knew
that I for one, was singing prayers of anguish, not knowing what would happen
next. But as the music came to its natural conclusion, interest in our
wares took over, which lead to successful and swift selling. The order of
the day appear to return, and I felt quieter in my heart. As the central
area, safe through the bustle of good natured and happy traders, at last began
to empty. Our toupee, and other foreign visitors huddled together. We
knew that the town's gates would be closed and locked for the night. We
were pleased with what we had been able to purchase. But we knew that in terms
of our power, we were just a few children, with axes, and choppers, feeble
muscles with only our courage and sense of adventure as our defence. I sort out
my sister. I could see she was not settled. I had heard that our worst
fears had been realised. The headman and his cronies were only interested
in one thing now, they wanted Tilda as a 'wife’, or rather slave. Even as
we pressed tightly around Tilda, we wondered how on earth we were going to get
out of this town peacefully. We all agreed that we would happily leave
without any of newly acquired treasures. There was only one treasure we
valued, and we would never leave her.
The evening was cool was pleasant. Soft noises of the local
populous felt comforting. They had seemed to have such fun with us. We heard
cockerels' calling, and donkeys braying. Then the sound of a child
calling out for a family member. There, to the side of the area, the dark
black cave of the barn like building, ugly and menacing. It spoke to me
of our tiny, insignificant weakness. These people could do what they
willed with us. We were in their lair. I pulled Tilda's arm and
asked "did they hurt you?" Tilda instinctively shuddered, then
whispered, "remember that Mosako says, we do nothing alone. They can take
your body but not your soul. We have done nothing wrong, and we will stay
faithful." She squeezed me tight, and then told me how sorry she was to
have lead us into such a place of vulnerability. I said that I would not
have missed it for the world. It had been so exciting, and we had
survived that day, and we will survive again."
h us t In the morning, after a fitful night, a few of us arose to
visit the town well and get some food together. Before we could get our water
bags ready, a group of about twenty armed men arrived. They were rough
and threatening. We were instructed to leave everything and come with them into
the great barn. As with the clinging freezing damp fog of winter,
the horror of our situation became apparent. These people, our neighbours, with
whom many years of peace and calm had prevailed, were now taking advantage of
us. In the darkness of the barn we met again with the bitter face of the
headman who looked imperiously about him. I thought of who we were, but a
flock of chicken, nothing much to gloat over. Tilda was roughly pulled
forward and her face pushed to the floor by the headman's feet. He lifted a
foot and placed it on her head. I could see her courage, like and
invisible force around her. The headman then pronounced some words.
I did not need a Translator, they were so predictable. I Understood
them as "you have displeased me and my people, you have made a mockery of
yourselves. The penalty for this vial disgrace is to become our slaves.
Tilda will be my wife. I interpreted this last bit as I saw Tilda
spit out as he spoke, and saw his boot covered foot grinding her beautiful face
onto the hard clay floor.
We then were stripped of our attire, and tied together with
chains. I had a strange thought that we would find uses for these chains back
home. What are slaves? Not commonly seen in Jokou and its environs, but
we had heard of slavery, and indeed a number of escaped slaves made their way
to our community.
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