I thought of what Joseph said. Shouldn’t people who do wrong never be forgiven? That’s how things were in my book. Hurt me, you lose me. It was simple. It worked.
Although I didn’t agree with him, I felt a bit of respect for Joseph. But I didn’t understand his god. The god of Eve. The god of Noah. What were they all talking about…this god? There was something so inexplicably different about these people. What was I missing?
And as Joseph sat back against the rock, face turned up towards the sky, I also couldn’t help but wonder…
What did Joseph have that I didn’t?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“But God sent me ahead of you to preserve
for you a remnant on earth and
to save your lives by a great deliverance.”
Genesis 45:7 NIV
The sound of voices jolted me out of my interrupted sleep.
The day had been hot and menacing without any shelter in the bottom of the open cistern. My lips had cracked and I could feel my skin burning even through the tunic. I slipped in and out of drowsiness, dreaming the cistern filling with water and floating us up to the top to spill out onto the open ground.
It was only when I opened my eyes to the noise from above when I realized it was evening. Silhouettes of several heads against the darkening sky appeared over the edge of the well. I nudged Joseph who was sleeping a few feet away.
“Josephhhhhh.”
“Brother!”
“Please come back up. We were only playing a game.”
“We don’t really want to hurt you!”
Joseph’s brothers.
I flattened myself against the edge of the cistern. It was dark enough that it was possible they wouldn’t see me, but Joseph lay in the middle of the open well. He was sitting up, rubbing his eyes.
A rope swung down from over the edge of the well. It banged against the rock, the tail trailing along the dirt bottom.
“Grab ahold! We will pull you up!”
Joseph stared at the rope for a moment, halfway awake and drained from the sun. He grabbed the end.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. But within seconds, Joseph was already being pulled out of the pit, disappearing over the edge.
Panic rose in my throat as the rope went with him.
Did he just…leave me here?
The voices above grew hurried and anxious. An argument was brewing and I strained to hear what was going on. Should I let them know I was down here? It had to be better than being stuck down in this well.
Suddenly, a face appeared over the edge. I couldn’t tell who it was at first, but as my eyes adjusted to the light, I recognized his eyes glowing in the darkness.
It was Joseph.
His eyes met mine as he dropped the end of the rope. It was the last thing he did before a cloth came down over his mouth and he was dragged away from the edge.
With lightning speed, I grabbed the end of the rope and gave it a few quick tugs. Solid. For now.
Looks like it was all me.
I reached up, grasped the rope, and pulled myself up. I used the wall of the cistern to brace myself. About halfway up, my foot slipped on the plastered wall. I hung there for a few moments, my weight crashing me into the rock face. The rock scratched the same spot on my arm and I bit my tongue to keep myself from screaming.
Just a little more.
I used my momentum to push off even harder. Left hand, right hand. I hauled myself over the edge and rolled onto the ground. I knew I didn’t have much time. I didn’t know where they were taking him, but something told me I didn’t want to go with them.
The landscape was quiet. Where was he?
That was when I spotted them. A half a mile west, a dirt road meandered through the terrain. Along the ditch, a group of merchants gathered around a figure on his knees, his hands tied in front of his body.
Despite the warning signs, I ran towards them. As I drew closer, I could hear their muffled words turn into sentences. I slowed down, searching for coverage. There had to be a way to get Joseph out of there.
I squinted my eyes. No…that couldn’t be it. Was he being…sold? I swallowed down the knot in my throat.
Camels and donkeys kicked and snorted in the evening light. The animals were packed with satchels and bags hanging nearly to their feet. A few other slaves stood next to the animals, their hands tied together with a rope connected to the saddles.
Joseph stood in between the brothers and the merchants. They checked him over, prodding and poking everywhere.
“We’ll take him and pay you with silver,” one of the strangers said.
“It’s a deal.”
I gasped as someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me towards the group. The merchant squinted his eyes and peered at me. “Who’s that?” I struggled in the brother’s tight grasp.
“I do not know. I’ve never seen this girl before.” The brother making the deal turned to the merchant. “But we’ll let you have it for two times as much.”
Oh, now I am an “it.” That’s great.
“Two times! They both are not even worth one piece of silver!”
“I am not going anywhere and neither is he!” I protested, pointing to Joseph. The men ignored me and grabbed my wrists. I cried out as the ropes dug into my skin.
“They will be good servants. Trust me, you are getting a bargain,” the brother objected. He jerked my rope and I flew forward into the dirt. My tied hands took most of my weight, but I still landed face first. The men laughed.
The man with the camels nodded and dropped the coins into one of the brother’s hands. “Tie her up with the rest of them.”
I craned my neck up only to see Joseph’s sad eyes watching me from above.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
I tried to smile. “It’s okay.”
They yanked me up and attached the end of the rope to a separate saddle. The merchant clipped the side of the donkey and pulled his reins. I lurched forward, forced to trail behind the animal.
I was starting to think the hole was a better alternative.
The next day, we trudged along the dirt road, the sun burning our backs. Dust flew into my eyes and the ropes rubbed against my wrists so fiercely that I could feel blisters appearing underneath. We moved on steadily without many breaks, and I could feel dehydration seeping into my body like the water I needed. The other servants didn’t speak at all, and Joseph was always kept separated from the rest. Maybe even the merchants knew he was special.
We finally stopped later in the night. I had never wanted sleep as badly as I wanted it then. The merchants sat around a fire to eat, even though it seemed like it could be around midnight. They threw us the remains of their food as if we weren’t humans too.
I tucked myself further into my thin tunic. I couldn’t help but wonder what Joseph might be thinking. Betrayal? Panic? Defeat?
Forgiveness?
I shook the word out of my head and told myself to go to sleep. On the other side of consciousness, nightmares followed after me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“When Reuben returned to the cistern and saw that
Joseph was not there, he tore his clothes.
He went back to his brothers and said,
‘The boy isn’t there! Where can I turn now?’”
Genesis 37:29–30 NIV
“Get up, lazy pigs! Your new home awaits.”
I jolted upright, startled. My head slammed into his hard skull.
“Ow,” I muttered quietly, rubbing my forehead. The merchant glared at me and picked me up by the arm with skin-pinching nails. I scrambled to my feet so he wouldn’t pull my arm out of its socket. The sun was barely up, scraping a pinkish-blue hue across the morning clouds.
Over the next few days, we endured the same routine. Walk for miles. Rest. Walk for even more miles. Settle down to camp. Sleep restlessly. Wake up. Repeat.
Six more slaves were added to our group. Our animal caravan grew with slaves in
each passing town. It made me sick. And then, after what felt like years, we arrived.
Egypt.
The buildings along the outskirts of Egypt started out simply. They had the same layout as the last city from Noah’s story, but this city seemed larger. More condensed. As we moved farther into Egypt, the buildings grew more elaborate and majestic. Wooden carts filled with various items from handmade necklaces to woven rugs lined the streets. We passed through several mini markets, each bustling with city energy.
I watched a group of women pass by, dressed in long, plain tunics and their hair covered completely in fabric. Most of the men in the markets looked like farmers or tradesmen. In the doorways, little children sat on the steps, trying to cool themselves from the humid air.
The sun burned my eyes and I could barely breathe. The people paid no attention to us, hurrying passed without even a sideways glance. It took forever to weave through the streets and crowds, but finally, we arrived in the middle of the city.
The palace walls loomed over me, its polished surface reflecting the scorching sun. The front columns were thick and decorated at the base with engraved Egyptian artwork.
The merchants greeted a guard at the entryway who then led us around to the back. They led us to a separate building next to the palace. It had a huge open hallway at ground level and looked a lot like that of a horse stable no longer in use. Straw cots lined the walls, and as I glanced inside, several servants were already there.
One of the merchants untied me and grabbed me fiercely by the arm.
“You’ve been paid in full. Pharaoh will have you sent home with the gold.” The merchant nodded his thanks.
A woman approached me, her face sour and wrinkled. She shoved a sickle into my arms. The blade nearly pierced my skin.
“They’re taking a group to the fields. Go.” I looked down blankly at the tool in my hands, not sure what to do with it.
Okay…this was really happening.
I followed the group already heading towards a cart that they were loading up with servants. The cart lurched forward, nearly sending me off the edge. We sat cramped together, knees and elbows interlocked and in each other’s faces. Several people were practically hanging off the side.
Once we arrived, we split to cover different sections of the field. I watched the other servants and tried to copy them, but hacking the wheat with the sickle was extremely hard. My shoulders burned, and I wondered where Joseph was.
By the time we got back, it was late in the day and I could feel the insides of my dry throat nearly flaking off. Dehydration from the desert sun made the earth spin in front of me by the time I got off the cart.
We lined up together inside the servants’ quarters, single file. I followed after, nearly sick to my stomach.
“What are we doing?” I asked a woman standing beside me.
“You must be new,” she whispered to me. She glanced nervously at the guards. “We line up every week so the master can choose which servant he wants for that week. Those servants are lucky. He rarely picks anyone. They are allowed to work in the palace.”
I nodded and looked for Joseph. I didn’t want to be separated. Something told me it was best to stay as close to him as possible.
I heard noises coming from outside and a man rode inside mounted on a horse. He gazed at all the slaves, a disgusted frown on his lips.
The woman beside me shuddered when he glanced at her momentarily. He moved on, scanning us up and down.
“And that is Potiphar, the pharaoh’s palace guard. Few cross him…he’s been known to have a temper,” the woman whispered under her breath. She cast wary glances at Potiphar who had dismounted his horse and was scanning the room.
He stopped when he got to me. I froze.
Did I want to be chosen?
“Check her,” he said to two of the guards. They approached me, spun me around, and checked me all over, like some security guards did to one man at an airport I went to once. They also checked my hands and my teeth. I was too afraid to speak.
Potiphar paused, then he nodded. The guards grabbed my arms and led me to the middle of the hallway. My heart was pounding. They tied my wrists again with rope while Potiphar chose several other slaves. Joseph was one of them.
“That will be all,” Potiphar ordered and he turned swiftly to mount his horse, the train of his robe billowing out like a fan. And I thought only superheroes did that.
This man was, apparently, no superhero.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“‘In my dream I saw a vine in front of me,
and on the vine were three branches.’”
Genesis 40:9 NIV
I’d lost myself in the work that had been piled on me. I’d forgotten why I was even here in the first place. I was waiting to go home, for the story to end, and I didn’t know how long it was going to be. Months, years, decades.
An eternity.
I was beginning to think I was stuck in this story. The fears turned in my head, the incessant what if I never got out?
What if.
It has been a few days since then.
Now, here I was, picking dirt from my fingernails and listening to my stomach grumble in a dungeon in the basement of the castle, recapping how exactly I got into this mess.
It pretty much started one day when I was taking silk blankets to Potiphar’s wife’s chamber. Her chamber was separated from the hallway with thick beads hanging from the doorframe, so although it wasn’t completely closed off, the beads made it impossible to see completely.
Which was sort of why I didn’t see the clay pot smashing through with Joseph running after. We smashed into each other, the bedsheets flying up in the air.
“I apologize,” he said, breathless, but when he tried to get up, he slipped on a silk blanket lying on the floor and came crashing down again.
Yeah, that’s definitely when it started.
“Joseph!” I untangled him from the sheets. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What’s going on?”
He tried to get the sheets out from under his legs. His eyes grew wide and we both ducked at the perfect time. Another pot sailed through the doorway.
“I need to get away from here.” He took off down the hallway.
Not a moment later, Potiphar’s wife barged through the bead door, her hair mangled and Joseph’s cloak clutched in her hands. She screamed at the top of her lungs.
I scrambled up. “Stop! I am the only one here. All of the other servants are on break. No one’s going to hear you but me.” I’d had it with this lady ordering us around constantly. I was fed up.
Her face was bright red and she spat at my feet before spinning around and parting the beaded curtain back to her bedroom.
As soon as she was gone, I followed after Joseph. I found him behind one of the horse stables, short of breath and leaning against the wall with one hand.
“Joseph! What happened?”
“I-I don’t know—” he started, then trailed off in a long ramble.
“Speak up! Just tell me.”
“She grabbed me!” he blurted. He ran his hands through his hair and paced. “She demanded that I sleep with her and I said no. I could not do that; she is my master’s wife. He trusts me. I am his attendant and I am supposed to be in charge of everything he owns.”
“Why haven’t you told Potiphar?” I said.
“He would not believe me! I fear she may lie to him and tell him it was my idea to sleep with her. She has been asking me for days even though I keep refusing her.” Joseph turned to me and stopped. “She may have reached her mark.” He let out a strangled breath.
I stood dumbfounded. “I never knew he moved you up in the ranks so quickly. What are you going to do?”
He stared at the ground, thoughts turning in his mind, then looked up suddenly.
“Nothing,” he finalized. “I put my trust in God. There is nothing else for me to do.”
We both knew he was right about the first part. That Potiphar’s wi
fe would lie to her husband about Joseph. That no one would believe him.
A few days later, Joseph was thrown into prison, and just like when his brothers threw him into the well, he did not resist. Potiphar’s wife must like to keep grudges. Accused of being on Joseph’s side, they threw me in the dungeon along with him.
But…the part that I wasn’t sure about echoed in my head for days, leaving my nights restless and confusing.
Was his god going to get us out of this mess or not?
So, this was where we were now. Back to square one. In the dark, in a pit, rejected, starving, alone.
Almost alone…
Aside from us, there were three other men in the cells next to us. I didn’t know why they were thrown in prison and I didn’t care to ask. Who was I to judge anyway? We didn’t exactly do anything to deserve to be here either.
Our cell was dank and musty. Bits of light shown through the bars and created sun spots on the floor at certain times of the day. But those times never lasted long, so most of the time, we sat in darkness.
And then there were the dreams. Half-awake dreams. The kind you get before you wake up. Deep dreams that seemed to last an eternity. Daydreams. Nightmares. Other people’s dreams.
Our cellmates’ dreams haunted them in their sleep and preyed on them while they were awake. They would cry out at random times in the night or day, awakened from a dark world no one understood but them.
After a couple nights, Joseph had had enough. He extended his hand and nudged the man gently. The man jumped.
“What do you want?” he shifted so that his back was towards us and he wiped his face.
Joseph’s eyes shone in the little bit of light that was entering the prison. “Your dreams are bothering you, aren’t they?”
The man glanced over his shoulder and glared at us.
Joseph brought his face closer to the man. “I can interpret dreams. If you want, I can help you with yours.” He spoke sheepishly, as if he didn’t want to offend him.
The man didn’t answer for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder again. “Can you really interpret dreams?”
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