!11~~5. TH£ DOOR Of NO R£TURN

(' o ),)' I', K S II N

..1)0 you nncestors can speak to Usin this place?"

hut night. The air was thickwith the stenchof excremen

ONCE A DAY AMARI AND THE OTHER WOMEN

were taken from the cell in small groups. Cold water from large

wooden buckets was tossed upon them. Their clothes, what little

that remained, were torn and barely covered their bodies. The sol-

diers who guarded them liked to rip the tops of the women's

garments so their breasts were exposed. Amari learned to swallow

her shame.The woman who had befriended her was called Afi. She made

sure Amari had food each day and protected her from some of

the other women who had grown fierce and violent from their

captivity. She showed Amari how to walk with a limp and look

with a vacant, stupid stare to make sure the soldiers would pass

her by when they looked for women to come to their rooms. She

also showed Amari how to exercise inside the cell, to stay strong

and ready for whatever may come next. At night she crooned soft

songs similar to the ones Amari's mother had once sang to her as

a child. Afi told Amari that her husband and a daughter about

Amari's age had died two years before. Amari figured that Afi

needed her as much as she needed Afi.

child," she replied, trying to coolAmari by fan-

hand. "I know they see us, however. And theyweep for us. I..., 1't..el it."

"We need "'01\' than weeping, Afi," Amari said quietly. "We

need an army of warriors to come and unfasten the locks, kill our

captors, return us to our homes, and bring our families andfriends back 1(.) WI, alive and smiling."

"You know that is not to be, my child," Afi replied gently. "We

are caught in u place where there is no hope, no escape from the

misery of the present or the memories of the past." They weresilent then, for there was nothing more to say.

One day, without warning, Amari and the rest of the women

were brought into the center of the prison by the white soldiers,

who chained their hands behind them and shackled their feet as

well. Then strange white men, one of them so tall and thin that

he seemed to sway when he walked, looked over each of thewomen as if inspecting goats for slaugbter.

The thin man came up to Amari and lifted her upper 1ip,

pinching the flesh with his long, bony fin~ers. He smelled

unwashed. Amari whipped her head away from him, her eyes

dark with anger. Glaring at her, he slapped her face so hard, she

almost fell to the ground. Then he yanked her back up, grabbed

her chin, and held it tightly while he pulled at her lip again."Open your mouth!" Afi hissed at her.

..~ 29 •

SHARON M. DRAPER

Terrified, Amari did so. The tall man took his time inspecting

the inside of her mouth. He ran his fingers along her teeth and

gums, mumbling to himself as he did so. When he was satisfied

with his inspection of her, he moved on to the next woman.Amari stood close to Afi, shivering with fear and disgust as the

rough hands of each of the white men examined and prodded her

arms, thighs, calves, and breasts.The men yelled and spoke very fast in their strange language.

Amari heard the word "price" many times. Finally, they seemed

to come to a settlement. Cowrie shells were counted and passed

from the trader with the willowy body to the men who had cap-

tured them. Amari saw cloth also being exchanged and jewelry

and gold. They had very little need for gold in her village, but she

knew what it was. She knew it held the value of her life.One by one the women were taken through the door that Af

had spoken of earlier. Some screamed; some fought back and

had to be pushed. The door was narrow and very low to the

ground. No one could stand upright and pass through it; the only

way to go through that passageway was to crawl.A soldier grabbed Amari roughly and pushed her toward that

door. He forced her to the ground and then kicked her in the

direction of the passageway. She had no choice but to proceed. It

was difficult with the chains on, but she managed to crawl,

painfully and slowly. The walls were smooth and worn, as if

many bodies had passed through that narrow, low tunnel.At the end of the passage a pair of hands pulled her up, and

she had to close her eyes to the brightness of the sun. When she

could finally open them, she saw that beautiful white sand lay in

18130 r'.

COPPER SUN

front of her. The salty smell that she had grown accustomed to

was now overwhelming. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Amari

cast her eyes for the first time upon the ocean. Travelers had

occasionally come to her village, so she had heard tales of the

blueness and vastness of the ocean. But nothing could have pre-

pared her for water so blue, so beautiful, so never ending.

After so many days of the darkness of her cell, the glory of that

view was powerful-and very, very frightening. Would she be

thrown into the sea? And what was that strange house in the dis-

tance that seemed to rest on the surface of the water? It could not

be a boat-boats were small and held one or two people. Boats

were used for fishing or visiting family members downriver. This

was huge, with white fabric dancing from it. That could not be a

boat, Amari decided. It must be a place of the dead.

Before she had a chance to absorb it all, a man dragged her to

what looked like a goat pen. A fire burned brightly in the center

of it, even though the day was very warm, and the man was steer-

ing her toward it, Amari realized with fear. Am I going to be

cooked and eaten now? Why couldn't I have died with my family?

she thought wildly. Panicked, she tried to pull away from the

man, but his grip only tightened.

A black man who spoke the language of the white men pushed

her roughly down into the sand and held her firmly so she could

not move. Amari could see only the feet of the second man, but

he moved toward the fire, leaned down to pick something up,

then walked purposefully toward ber.

Intense, fiery pain pierced the sweaty softness of the skin

above her left shoulder. Amari could hear her flesh sizzle, and

lSi 31 ~

SHARON M. DRAPER

she nearly fainted as she realized she was being branded. Like a

wounded animal, Amari screamed and screamed. Why? was the

only thought in her head. Someone then pulled her away from the

fire, smeared a horrible-smelling salve on her wound, and yanked

her over to another holding pen full of prisoners like her, all

dazed [rom the pain of the hot branding iron. Many of them sat

hunched over, trying to nurse their wounds. A few stared at the

pale blue sky, the deep blue of the unbelievable expanse of water,

and the death house that tossed on the waves in the distance. 'The salve must have been effective, for the intense pain grad-

ually subsided and was replaced by a duller throbbing that

would not go away. Amari saw then that Afi had emerged from

the prison as well. When she was branded, she did not cry out.

Amari could see the pain on her face and the tears roll down her

cheeks, but Afi did not utter a sound.A:fi was thrown into the holding pen soon after that, and they

hugged each other gently, avoiding the fiery sores on their shoul-

ders. "What happens now?" Amari whispered."Child, I've heard stori.es, but I've never seen the ocean before.

I have heard that the water spills over the edge of the world and

that only death is found there.""There has to be something on the other side of the great

water," Amari reasoned. "The white soldiers had to come from

whatever that place is.""It must be a place of death, for sure," Afi replied, agreeing

with Amari. "For only such a horrible place could create such

creatures who could burn a person with a flaming hot iron."

Amari started to remind her that they had been held down by

1m 32 lilt

COPPER SUN

people of their own land-people who looked just like them. But

at that moment several men were shoved into the holding cell.

Three of them were some of the very same Ashanti warriors who

had helped to capture the people from her village. They looked

stunned at their sudden change in status. Another new captive,

who looked positively irate, was the black man who had just held

Amari down on the sand while she was branded. He held his

freshly branded shoulder and called out in the language of the

whites, but they ignored him. The last man to be tossed into the

pen was Besa.

The men had been kept from the women, housed in a separate

section of the prison. Amari had not seen Besa since they had

arrived. He was thin and filthy and looked absolutely beautiful to

her. She wanted to call out his name, run to him, and hug him,

but she found she could say nothing as he was taken to the far

corner of the holding pen and chained there.

Besa looked up and gazed directly at Amari for just a moment.

His face, once so proud and happy, showed only defeat. She

understood.

The pen offered no shelter from the intense heat of the day. No

water was offered to them. Men in uniform and men with

obvious power and authority strode across the sand all afternoon,

clearly preparing for something. But what? Amari wondered.

Then several of them climbed into a small boat that rocked and

tossed in the waves of the large water, and they rowed out to the

floating house in the distance. The boat returned with more men in

uniform and a load of heavy chains. Amari knew they were for them.

The sunset that evening was unlike any Amari had ever seen.

lSI 33 lS!

SHARON M, DRAPER

"I 35

COPPER SUN

The spirit of the copper sun seemed to bleed for them as it

glowed bright red against the deepening blue of the great water.

It sank slowly, as if saying farewell. The shadows deepened and

darkness covered the beach.As night fell, the leader of the captors ordered small fires to be

made on the beach, and Amari soon smelled the welcome odor of

food cooking. It had been a long time since they had been given

anything to eat, and she was amazed when the holding pen was

opened and generous portions of water and food-fresh fruit,

boiled cassava, and some kind of fish stew-were distributed to

them. Nobody questioned the offering, and the food was con-

sumed greediJy and quickly.Licking her fingers, she asked Afi, "Why do they feed us so

well tonight?""To prepare us for the journey, I believe."

"What journey?"

Afi hesitated."Tell me," Amari urged."We will be taken to the boat of death on the horizon, and we

will never see this place again." Her voice chilled Amari even

more than the brisk wind that blew off the ocean.

"I do not understand."

"We are slaves, Amari. Slaves.""I know this." Amari knew, of course, what slaves were-

some of the wealthier elders in her own village had a few slaves.

They had been won in battle or traded in negotiations between

villages and tribes. They were usually respected and sometimes

even adopted as extended members of a family.

"But this is not like anything we've ever known, is it?" Amari

asked her. She braced herself for Afi's answer.

"No, child. Horrors unimagined, J feel, will assault us."

Amari thought back to the night she was captured and the

journey to this place. Her mind could not imagine worse. She

shivered in the night air, the brand on her shoulder throbbing.

She thought of Kwasi, the little bird who would never fly again,

but, in a way, she was glad he would not have to endure any of

these horrors. Finally, leaning against the pole she was tied to,she managed to fall asleep.

34