Camino Ghosts

The boss finally appeared, an African, but he wore Western clothes and army boots. He barked at the women and told them to stand up. Then he immediately began examining each one. He fondled their breasts, probed their pubic areas, pinched their backsides, and in doing so tried to seem bored with it all. He took his time, and when he was finished he told the two guards that they had brought him a nice selection. Twenty women, all young and somewhat healthy and likely to be good breeders, and three hungry children who weren’t worth much. The boss and the guards began talking money and the conversation grew animated; a lot of headshaking, some arguing back and forth. It was obvious the men knew each other and had bargained before. When they finally came to terms, the boss pulled out a small bag of coins and paid for the captives.

Nalla and the others were sold for the second time.

They were led through a gate and into a dirt yard where the coggle boards, chains, and cuffs were removed, and they were allowed to move around. They met other women of their tribe and swapped stories, all of them dreadful. Some of the women had open sores across their backs where they had been whipped. Almost all were young mothers who cried for their lost children.

On the other side of the fort was a larger pen where several dozen men were loitering and trying to see the women. Nalla and the others walked as close as possible but saw no familiar faces.

Bread and water were served and the women retreated to the shade behind one of the huts. A ship had left three days earlier with almost two hundred on board, but the fort was filling up again. The slave trade was booming. No one was certain when the next slave ship would arrive to take them away. The only certainty was that they were not going home. Everyone had lost either a husband or a child or both. Nalla admitted she had been raped and some of the others did too, reluctantly. All of the women were gaunt, underfed, and naked.

The terror began each evening after dark when the soldiers came around. For a few cents, the boss allowed them into the fort to assault the women, all of whom were fair game.

Conditions in the fort were deplorable. Most of the captives had no shelter and slept on the ground. The few huts were given to those suffering from dysentery and scurvy. A brief rainstorm turned the red dirt to mud. Food was sporadic and consisted of hardened loaves of old bread and whatever fruit the boss could find. The only effort at sanitation was a large hole filled with raw sewage in one corner. Using it was treacherous. Its walls were slick with waste and at least once a day someone fell in. The entire fort was a breeding ground for rats and mosquitoes, some as large as hornets. At night, no one protected the women. The guards were as likely to assault them as the soldiers who were always lurking.

And so they waited, day after day. The fort slowly filled up, with more people meaning less food for everyone. In desperation, the women began looking at the harbor and wishing a slave ship would appear to take them away.

6

One morning, two weeks or so after they arrived, though they had no idea what day of the week it was, Nalla awoke in the dirt and got up. Two women were pointing to the harbor. There, finally, was a ship. Hours passed and nothing happened, then a strange sight appeared. It was the first white man they had ever seen. He and the boss met on the porch of a hut and negotiated.

After the white man left, the atmosphere throughout the fort changed considerably. The guards opened a hut and removed piles of chains and iron cuffs for necks and ankles. They ordered the women to stand in a line and began shackling them again. When one resisted she was whipped as the others were forced to watch. Nalla was in the first group of about thirty who were led from the fort as everyone, men and women, watched. Their turn would come soon enough.

They were led down a path toward the bay. The villagers stopped what they were doing and watched with pity as the captives were taken away. At the dock, Nalla and the others were marched down a narrow pier to a boat where some harsh white men growled at them in a foreign tongue.

It was English and they were Americans.

The women were shoved onto the deck, then down a flimsy ladder to a sweltering hold with closed portholes. The boat, a cargo canoe, could carry fifty slaves at a time, and it took two hours to load it with the cargo. Meanwhile, Nalla and the women waited in the dark below, in the stifling, disgusting air. At times they could hardly breathe. They gasped and struggled and cried out in fear. A guard opened a porthole and allowed in some air. Finally, they shoved off and the cargo canoe rocked slightly. The air flowed through the hold. With no experience on the ocean, the rocking of the boat made them nauseous.