Heart of a slave

Sneaking Out

Siwhetta had heard Dimitri's footsteps coming down the hallway and had feigned sleep. She did not want him to know she was awake. She heard him enter and eventually depart. She knew he would not stay. While he was away all day, she had received terrible news from Edgar that a young boy was punished today and was in dire need of her help. 

She was also told that the master would be at an important dinner this evening and that she could go and see the boy. Siwhetta was afraid to leave the bedchamber but she knew that when duty calls, she had to answer. She hurriedly put on her clothing and tiptoed down the stairs. The guests were already in the dining area waiting to be served. 

She went to the back of the kitchen and exited through a narrow gate that led to the backyard. She knew the place very well. Outside was the boy's father who was waiting impatiently for her. He was worried for his son's life. Siwhetta following this warrior of a man, walking for about half an hour until they reached.

She knew briefly about his tribe. They were the Igbo tribe and were originally from the opposite side of Siwhetta's homeland. Her father always told her that they were warlike people and to avoid any association with them. Apprehensively, she followed him into the shelter which housed approximately two hundred male slaves. He took her into their quarters, a room which normally accommodated ten to twenty persons.

 Currently, however, the father and son were the only occupants. Siwhetta sighed in relief. She preferred less people while she performed her work. She looked at the boy's injuries. He was in pain. "What happened?" she asked his father in his native language.

Surprised that she knew his language, Kee smiled lopsidedly. Siwhetta pretended not to notice. All she was anxious about was helping the boy. The father answered in English. "He was rude to the commander-in-chief and the commander was not happy, so he took his hand and placed it in a pot of boiling water."

Siwhetta's heart sank; the child looked only eight summers old. She took her medicine bag and proceeded to treat the wounds but the boy would not allow her to touch him. He was screaming in pain. She called upon his father, "Hold him down so I can attend to his wounds." The father looked at her, scowling. "Hold your son down!" Siwhetta said again.

"I don't take orders from women!" he replied, and spat on the ground.

She was suddenly infuriated by his demeanor. "You asked for help and I came to assist you; do you not want my help?" She stood with her hands fisted at her side. Siwhetta lifted her chin to him, "Your son needs assistance right now and all you can think of is your pride. Well, I am not an Igbo woman and I will not be treated like one." She knelt down and took the smelling salts from her bag and urged the boy to smell. Within a few minutes, the child was fast asleep. She quickly disinfected the wounds and then wrapped his arm with some clean cloth. "Here," she said, placing the disinfectant next to the boy where he was lying, "this is to help clean the wounds and here is some ointment that should be applied. It must be placed after the wound is cleaned thoroughly. Use a clean strip of cloth to re-bandage the wound every day. I will return to see the boy in three days. If there are any concerns, please send me a message. I will return to him." She turned to leave.

Kee grabbed her by the forearm and responded bitterly to what she had said earlier. "You cannot be an Igbo woman; an Igbo woman would never bed a white man."

Siwhetta felt like a dagger ran through her heart. "Don't touch me!" She jerked her arm free from his grasp as if she had been burnt. "How dare you? Is this how you pay your debt?"

He looked at her even more furious. "Those people took us away from our homeland, treated us like animals on a ship, brought us to this hell-hole, beat us and force us to work without pay. They kill us for sport and you think I want them to take our women too?"

Siwhetta cringed, "I was there, I was taken away too, and I was raped and I have fought, and you don't know what I have been through. So, don't you come and judge me."

He looked at her with soul-searching eyes, brows still furrowed. Kee scoffed, "An Igbo woman would die before she is raped," then he softened his tone and added, "and I am sure your father would have felt the same way."

Siwhetta, on her way out, froze and turned to face him, "What do you know about my father? And how do you know who I am?"

He sat on the straw bed and looked at her, lost in thought. She was indeed beautiful like they said. Dark-brown almond-shaped eyes stared furiously at him. Her jaws were set, her chin lifted, her demeanor was truly becoming of the daughter of a tribal chief, an African empress. "My people spoke about a healer's daughter. When I was a boy, my father sent a message to your father and asked him to join hands with his tribe to make the two of our tribes stronger. Your father accepted."

Stunned, Siwhetta looked at him anxiously waiting. When he said nothing, she chuckled, "My father hates Igbo people. He always told me you were a warlike tribe. He would never marry me into such a ..." she stopped then through clenched teeth concluded, "we were two different kingdoms with two different cultures."

Kee was surprised at her accusation. "We? Warlike? Your father was the one who started the war by stealing our livestock and then refused to give you to me. My father was livid with his change of heart and then they never spoke again."

Siwhetta had never heard such a ridiculous notion. "Where did you get such a foolish idea from?" She yelled at him, "My father would never give his word and break it, neither has he ever stolen anyone's livestock."

Kee was upset again. He stood, "Yes, he did, your father could not be trusted. This is why my father found me a wife from my people."

Annoyed at his accusation of her father, she tensed and yelled back, "My father is not a liar! Now, excuse me, I have to leave." Then she spat bitterly, "I would never marry an Igbo man even if my father and the entire tribe approved it!"

Kee stood up and walked towards her within two strides shaking with fury. He towered over Siwhetta. She did not move. She kept her chin up even though she was no match for him and knew that he could crush her if he wanted.

He hissed, an eyebrow lifted arrogantly, "Yes, you would have accepted my ways and you would have obeyed me as my wife!" His voice was so soft yet so sure.

Stunned, Siwhetta shivered then looked down at her feet, in disbelief. He turned away from her. She left the room, shaken from their encounter. Her heart pounded as she hastily returned to the manor.

***