Hey. This was a History project for school that I did while on the topic of the Slave Trade between England, Africa and America. It is a series of diary entries and I thought I might as well share them with you guys if you are interested. They're not very long but I was quite happy with my grade so I hope you enjoy them! Thank you very much! :)
August 10th, 1703
My mind hasn't rested all day. Perhaps it's just me, protective as I am, and my desire to be by Mikkah's side every minute of every day. I had waited patiently in the shimmering morning sun on the woven straw mat beside the well , the same place I sit every morning, for him to come out so we could head out to the animals. This morning, he hadn't come. It was only after an incredibly long hour of waiting that an elder had decided to mention to me that the older boys of the tribe had been taken away for what they called the 'Trials of Manhood' out across the plains. The nature of these trails I was unsure of, but I did know that the boys came back different - internally and possibly even externally. I'd seen it with my own eyes throughout my life. Suddenly they were respected so much more by all and invited to more and more hunting expeditions with the most experienced men in the tribe. Once, the two of us had ventured out along the trails previous subjects had left in the sand to try and discover what went on out there. But we were almost immediately chased away by angered elders. However, we were close enough to hear the agonized screams...
I had decided that I would keep myself busy to push away the unwanted thoughts - it hadn't really worked. First off, I'd helped my mother mend the roof of our hut with thick mud and strands of dried straw. It baked so quickly in the blazing heat that mistakes weren't easy to erase. So I was very quickly sent away after shouts of "KILA!" in very irritated tones. By that point I was already hot and sweating from the labour so I took up the opportunity to head down to the river to rinse piles of dusty clothes without a doubt. I knew that there were things in the depths that we had been taught to fear as children, along with wild animals that roamed the village perimeters. Age had taught me that these fears were irrational. We could hunt them down, capture them in nets and snares, scare them silly. We, as humans, were far superior to all the animals in the world. And I was immensely proud of that fact.
Washing clothes couldn't last forever though and I soon found myself sat back by the well catching cool spurts of water in my cupped hands and throwing it onto my face. Even for summer, this temperature was ridiculous. I suppose it would make hunting easier for the boys when they returned; all the animals would be crowded around water holes to attempt to stay cool. All the more meat for us I suppose.
Dad only got back from farming the goats when the sun was setting and I pulled myself up from my position on the mat to join them for dinner - legs aching and throbbing from being bent under my body for hours. It was a simple meal, roasted boar and a sweet vegetable that had been mashed into mush. Nothing special. A quick check around the houses confirmed my suspicions that they had not returned and almost certainly wouldn't be back by the time I was asleep. Sprits down, I'd come back to the hut and slipped into my linen tunic for sleeping earlier than normal. My family prayed to Allah with me as usual. Although, instead of wishing for successful crops and useful weather, tonight I prayed for Mikkah. Hoping that he would come back unharmed and almost exactly the same to how he was before he'd been taken. I didn't want him to be different... So now I'm laid here, still thinking eyes drooping, just hoping.