Treated like animals

"Food! And water!" a man's voice bellowed with his foreign and clipped accent.

All heads turned in the direction of the voice including Moremi. Even in their broken state, their bodies reacted with hope as they wriggled their shoulders, trying to face his direction.

The man stood tall and brutish, carrying a large iron pot and a spoon that looked better suited for stirring laundry. Behind him, another man dragged in a wide basin filled with water and a single cup.

Moremi's eyes followed the movement eagerly. Relief flooded her for a brief moment.

Finally, they were going to be unchained. They would be allowed to sit up and eat properly.

'Perhaps... just perhaps...' she thought.

But that illusion shattered as quickly as it came.

Without a word, the man dug the long spoon into the pot and raised a scoop of what looked like soggy, watery beans-soaked in locust bean paste, pungent and sour-smelling.

Moremi nearly gagged as the stench hit her nose.

"Eat and keep alive," the man barked.

Then he began.

With no care or pause, he stepped to the first chained woman and dumped the beans onto her face.

Some of it made its way into her mouth, most didn't. The woman sputtered and coughed, but he was already moving on.

He sauntered next to a child and did the same thing. No tenderness, no pause, just dumping the beans on them.

The second man followed closely behind, scooping water into the cup and pouring it over their faces with the same indifference.

There was no dignity in it. The slave traders only wanted them alive until they got to their destination.

If Moremi had any voice left, she would have screamed in disbelief.

But she didn't.

What had she not done already?

She had screamed too much. Begged. Fought. Cried.

This time around, she stayed still and watched with heart hammering pain, as her turn drew near.

The man was only a few bodies away from her now.

She forced herself to think. She had to get some of that food into her mouth.

Even if it stank. Even if it was humiliating.

She needed to at least curb this thirst and hunger squeezing her intestines.

If she didn't eat, she was certain she would die. And not just from hunger, but from weakness and despair.

So, she prepared herself.

She closed her eyes, tilted her head as best as she could, craned her neck, and scrunched her nose against the smell.

Then, she opened her mouth wide.

So wide, one would have thought she was forming a bowl in it.

The man barely glanced at her when he got to her turn. He scooped the beans and poured it down, similarly dumping it on her face.

The beans spilt, some of it splattering across her cheeks and nose tips, but some-thank the gods-landed inside her mouth.

Moremi clamped her mouth shut and swallowed fast, making sure she gulped everything.

Her face wrinkled when the blandness of the food hit.

The beans were tasteless, slimy, and nearly made her choke, but they slid down her dry throat like bitter hope.

She did the same with the water when it came. Caught as much as she could with her tongue, then swallowed again.

Finally, for the first time in hours, her throat felt the faintest hint of moisture.

She could breathe a little easier now.

Around her, she heard others gagging, coughing, and some choking softly in the dark.

Moremi's heart clenched hearing these sounds as even the whimpering of a child followed along with it.

What kind of life was this?

What kind of world had she fallen into?

How would she explain to anyone that she was a princess a moment ago but was now struggling for food like a slave?

She shut her eyes tightly.

She had been born in silk, bathed in milk, adorned with coral and gold.

And now, she lay in filth, fed like an animal, with chains around her limbs and shame crushing her chest.

Her pride had left her now. All that remained was survival.

But for how long? Moremi questioned herself.

She wasn't even certain she would live to see where this ship was headed. She had no idea where they were going or where she would likely end up.

Her earlier bright future, filled with promises and hope for a better life, was suddenly bleak.

After the last splash of food and water, the white men walked out and slammed the door shut behind them.

Darkness swallowed the room again.

No words were exchanged among them. Only the occasional groan of some persons filled the silence and it was from pain.

Moremi lay there, too tired to think anymore and too weak to feel anything beyond her aching bones.

Her eyelids dropped slowly, and in seconds, she slipped into sleep.

A deep, exhausted kind of sleep.

Not the type that came with peace, but one of surrender.

She didn't know how long she had dozed off.

But something stirred her awake.

A distant rumble, along with a strange sensation she couldn't explain, jolted her, making her feel like she was floating.

The floor beneath her shifted slightly, like the belly of some great beast turning in its sleep.

Moremi's eyes fluttered open and she blinked, trying to grasp where she was.

The darkness in the space still remained and the air now carried a chill that hadn't been there before.

There was a faint creaking above her. A sound like that of wood under pressure.

Suddenly, they galloped.

Moremi's body rolled slightly, the chains clinking beside her as the ship leaned sideways.

Everyone gasped and panicked. Someone whimpered in the dark, "Storm. There is a storm." He said and murmured filled the now hot room.

Sweat dropped from Moremi's head when the ship started moving differently.

She'd heard stories of how the ocean was a dangerous place. How ships capsided and people drowned easily with no hope to ever be found.

She'd barely even made it through and she was going to die already?

The ground jolted again — this time stronger — and her eyes snap open fully as she began looking her shoulders, shaking the chains in fear.

Then came the loud and violent quake. Distant, but powerful enough to shake the air itself.

Before she could even process what was happening, the door was banged open with force. Light poured in like a punishment.

"OUT!" someone yelled.

"Get 'em out, NOW!" another voice followed. Panic and urgency clung to their tones.

Moremi blinked rapidly as the light stung her eyes. She saw a group of white men saunter into the place and began removing their chains, pulling them up.

Although she could tell their reason for unchaining them was much worse, Moremi's eyes show with hope when they began to bring them out. At least, she was going to see some light now, she told herself as the man approached her.

She was hauled to her feet by the time her chains were removed, leaving only the ones wrapped around her neck and connected to her hands together.

Her limbs trembled from hunger and fatigue as she tried to stand straight but the slave trader didn't give her time to stretch.

He pulled on her chains, dragging her up the narrow wooden steps and Moremi followed him without choice. The light grew as she stepped out and the air hit her skin like a slap.

By the time she was brought above deck, Moremi's face paled as blood drained from it.

Water. Endless, furious water.

The others around her grew nervous as well as they shifted uncomfortably, taking in their surrounding. Their eyes had never graced such large body of water before and to make matters worse, this was a storm.

A heavy one.

The sky was grey, bruised and angry, spitting rain like curses. Waves crashed against the ship's side, rising and falling like angry mountains and the ship rocked violently beneath them.

Moremi's breath caught.

She had never seen the ocean before — not like this. Not in its full, terrifying size. It stretched on forever, wild and without mercy. There was no land, no shore, no escape. She was literally standing in the middle of the ocean.

This was a floating prison. And she was caught in its belly.

"Move!" The man tugged on Moremi's chains angrily, making her almost trip.

"C'mon, y'all! Bring them 'ere!" A voice rang ahead of them.

Just like that, they were gathered onto the main deck.

Men, women, children.

They were all shivering and silent as they observed the waters that rose, nearly as if it was going to swallow them whole. There were at least a hundred of them. Some were bleeding, others could barely walk or stand from weakness.

All broken.

Moremi stood in the middle of them, her chest heaving from shock.

And then just when she thought she had seen enough, her eyes widened further.

There were more ships. Three, at least. All sailing beside one another like monsters in a hunting pack. Each carrying more of her people. More chains and pain.

A white man in a long coat came into view, wearing a musket strapped across his shoulder and a pistol in one hand. All of them stared at him.

Captain George.

Moremi could not miss the face of the person that had killed her catch that day and chased her through the forest. She glared at him, her weak body feeling a surge of anger.

He didn't speak at first. He just looked at them like a man inspecting livestock.

Then, one of his men dragged something — someone — across the deck. Everyone's eyes turned in the direction.

It was an old man. Limp. Barely breathing. His head lolled back unnaturally.

Captain George glanced over.

"Is he dead?"

"Not yet but he's too weak. Unnecessary load to us," the sailor replied.

Without hesitation, Captain George kicked the body toward the edge, "Throw him in then." He notioned with no emotion. "He's not gonna make it."

Moremi gasped as the old man was lifted and thrown overboard like trash.

Into the sea.

Her mouth went dry and in less than a second, the body vanish beneath the waves, swallowed whole.

No prayers. No dignity. Just… gone.

Before she could even think to mourn, the captain turned to them and barked,

"Start moving! Quick! March the ship! Use your feet! Keep it alive through the storm!"

Moremi blinked. What?

She looked around, confused as did majority of the other slaves.

Captain George narrowed his eyes but repeated himself again, assuming they didn't understand. This time, he demonstrated with his foot as he stomped them on the deck, "March with your feet and keep the boat alive!"

Horror shown on Moremi's face as some of the slaves began to stomp, lifting their feet and lowering them in rhythm, rocking the deck beneath them.

They were being used to balance the ship. Like...animals.

Moremi tightened her jaw and clenched her fists in annoyance.

She didn't move. She couldn't. Her body refused to obey such madness. She shook her head weakly. This was beneath her. She would not—!

Whip!

A loud sound slashed in the air, making them turn around.

Another sailor held the lash, approaching slowly.

"I said March!" He flung the leather material onto someone, erupting a loud cry.

"March!" He screamed again. "Anyone who refuses will be thrown into the sea!" He yelled out.

Moremi's eyes widened. A vivid memory flashed before her eyes: the first time she saw them use that whip.

The crack in the air, the cry of the victim and the blood that followed immediately as skin tore open.

Her courage shrivelled.

Others had already begun stomping, fast and scared.

The sailor flogged another person meters away from her as the ship rocked again with the wind. Another bolt of lightning split the sky.

Moremi looked at the whip. Then at the sea as if weighing her options.

She heard the sound of the whip once more, this time inches away from her and without being told, she began to march.

Slowly, painfully and humiliatedly.

A crowned princess.

Each step was a betrayal of who she once was. Each stomp, a reminder that the world she knew was gone.

But she did it.

Because anything — even this — was better than the lash.

After what felt like ages, finally, the storm reduced.