The chains of the ocean

( This is a story about trans Atlantic slave trade . )
Year – 1757

Abu Bakar was working in the fields when he suddenly heard the screams of men, women, and children. He immediately understood—white men had arrived to capture them. This had been happening regularly, as the white men moved from village to village, often with the help of a village chief or a local informant.
Abu Bakar had neglected his fields for days. He knew it was dangerous to go alone; a single person would fall prey to the white men. Therefore, people traveled in groups and slept together at night to stay safe.
At first, the white men had sent priests who introduced Christianity to some of the Africans. A few had accepted, learning about the new religion and receiving European medicine when they fell ill. But soon there were others who came for business, hoping to exploit the land and its people. The arrival of malaria, however, initially halted their plans—until the discovery of quinine, a medicine to combat the disease. With this breakthrough, there was no longer any escape from the white men’s reach.

Abu Bakar had already lost two brothers to slavery. He knew the village chief disliked him and might turn him in at the first opportunity. For many days, he had hidden in the forest, but today, his son had come to find him and reported that they hadn’t eaten since the previous day. Abu Bakar wanted his son to go back home and stay safe. After watering his farm, he was resting when he heard the deafening screams again. He hid behind a tree, holding his breath, until the cries faded into the distance.

Returning home, Abu Bakar held two yams in his hands. His wife had a fever, and his younger son built a fire to roast them. They ate quickly, devouring the food as fast as they could. It was early the next morning when they woke to the sudden jerk of white men standing over them. Without a word, the men cuffed them and began dragging them toward the door. The others, too, remained silent, knowing the fate that awaited them.

After a long journey, they arrived at a large room where many others, shackled like them, were held. The vacant eyes of the others met theirs—men, women, and children—all bound in chains. A few days later, they were crammed into a corner of a ship, and Abu Bakar’s wife, too weak to endure the journey, succumbed to her illness . The supervisor callously threw her body into the ocean, as if discarding a banana peel. Abu Bakar and his sons remained silent, the pain was unbearable, and tears were not enough .

Soon after, diarrhea spread throughout the ship. People defecated where they lay, dying in the filth. No one complained, for the only result of such complaints was the whip.
For those who survived, conditions worsened. The weather began to change, and they had never known cold like this. With little clothing to protect them, Abu Bakar lost his older son to pneumonia. They were all emaciated, their muscles weak from the lack of movement. Abu Bakar saw the white men smoking, eating, drinking, and dancing to music, and he wondered: Who are these people? They had two hands, two arms, just like him, but their hearts were black. They had ships, guns, warm clothes, and medicines, but where were their feelings?

The group lay huddled on the deck, their naked bodies exposed to the biting winds. Abu Bakar gazed at the sky and spoke softly to his son : “If you ever get the chance to escape these people, return to our land. Our farms are untended, and the elders and children need food.”

The next morning, Abu Bakar was found dead. The supervisor unlocked his son’s shackles and ordered him to toss his father’s body into the ocean.

— Shashi’s Mahajan