Tides of a Black Hope

by Nneka Sophie Amalu

from somewhere unknown. It was not Igoni, it was neither his mother nor his sister any more. In this area, a black code was enacted to emphasize their status as properties, they had no legal rights, though white slaves were there, but different punishments were prescribed for both who committed the same offence. The conditions there were so damning and they worked each day in a sugar plantation that was wider than the Atlantic Ocean until the sun kissed the earth but they never had the taste of sugar. After few weeks, he made new friends; this helped him forget all about Africa, and when served with dinner at midday, if for any reason they had to leave the plantation together, they carried loads to avoid wasted labour. Many of the slaves were so sick that a lot of them died from diseases such as Small pox, chickenpox, coco yaws and leprosy. The slaves brought these diseases from Africa and it spread like wildfire due to the extremely poor housing, which was small and thatched. Each slave had a mat to lie on, a pot to boil their rations in, spoons and knives and they ate only yams and potatoes with salty fishes. The sufferings were so dehumanizing, brutal and draconian. Amanabiefori and his new friends encouraged each other with hopes of returning to Africa where all their sufferings would end, where they would recollect all the times in America, probably with their children and grand children all seated around them. Sometimes, he pondered, “will such a hope ever come alive? Will he ever get to see Igoni again, his mother or even his sister?” He pictured his death when he woke up one morning and saw that he had gotten chickenpox, now he knew in his heart, that the return to Africa was a mind-play that no one or even he could see in reality. He escaped death, though he didn’t know how but one thing was certain, the climate and topography of the Caribbean regions was a blessing not only to him but to all the slaves. They had less need for clothes and however, got clothes only on Christmas day. They spent most of their free times planning on how to escape like some of their colleagues who escaped successfully and formed ‘maroon communities’. Despite the mountains that encouraged their meetings, they still had to be very careful of the white soldiers who guarded the entire region. Most of their friends had died while attending meetings or trying to escape.

  As Bonny wept for their sons and daughters, Igoni’s plan had materialized. She started seeing a shipmaster called Townsend, who loved her so much and promised to take her with him. Unknown to him, her plan neared fruition. On the night before she was to leave Bonny, she had developed a cold feet but “courage in danger is half the battle,” she encouraged herself. Only her mother-in law and her best friend, Ibiayemi, whom she had discussed it with, knew about her plan and they promised not to tell anyone, even her family. On board, she prayed fervently and with so much faith that she would see his handsome face even if it was for the last time in her life. It was now that she really had the time to appreciate his manly features. She could see his wide smile and his white set of teeth, his dark big brown eyes she had always made fun of, by calling them owl’s eyes. She smiled as she remembered all the fun they had and it somehow strengthened her.

  Luckily, although oblivious to her, their stop was in the Americas. She settled down with Townsend in the Whiteman’s lodge, which was far away from the thatched huts of the slaves. She had to know her environment very well and to prove to Townsend that he could trust her with anything before she could make moves in finding her ‘Amana’ as she fondly called him. After three months, she had to stop beating around the bush and search for him. Townsend usually checked on the plantation and monitored the slaves on a weekly basis. He took accounts on both the produce and the slaves who may have died. Impatiently, Igoni decided to follow him for this routine, in order to get a chance to search for her lost African love, Amanabiefori. The most compelling thing was that, they all wore the same clothes and looked almost the same. Hardship had disfigured all of them and she had problems identifying him because they all had to be at their best performances when their masters came around.

  Crying bitterly in her heart, one morning, Igoni regretted her actions. She had lost hope. “I have served myself stones and I must eat them!” she told herself in tears. She wiped her tears with her hands as Townsend came into the room with the new clothing meant for the slaves. She was to share the clothing the next morning. “Don’t give any piece to ghost” Townsend warned. By ghost, he meant someone who didn’t come to get his piece. “Have you had your dinner?” she rather diverted.

  As sundown approached the next day, she had about twenty slaves to settle when she noticed she was thinking about those who were at the sick room and couldn’t make it. “Could he be a ghost? Could he be sick?” “Should she follow the voice of her heart or Townsends orders?” “Moreover, this is almost one year that I have searched for him, is there hope of finding him again?”She asked herself. She stood up suddenly, and asked one of the slaves to take her to the slaves’ sickroom. Having disobeyed her man, her “Whiteman”, she had to clear the last ray of hope in her heart that Amanabiefori wasn’t in the sickbay. She had promised to eat her heart if she didn’t find him there; there and then would she know that she had made the worst mistake of her life, a great mistake. These thoughts flowed in her mind as she walked into the sickroom. Seeing the sick slaves, she felt sorry for them. She knew she would be sorrier if Amanabiefori was here.

  Amanabiefori on his own part had not forgotten his love, his mother or sister, but never felt sorry for leaving them because he had hoped someday he would escape back to Africa. He fantasized how he would go and ask for her hand in marriage as the news of his ordeal, which would have proven his manly ability and capability, should have spread throughout the village. He had pictured what she would wear on their marriage day. “She would be the most beautiful woman in the world that day,” he let out a smile as he imagined. Nevertheless, would his dreams come to reality, when he often fell prone to almost all the illnesses in the slavecamp? He had even imagined her being pregnant probably with their fifth child, he would not mind if they had ten, twelve or even fifteen children. Besides he is the thirteenth and last child of his father, he had decided to make his fifteen as he smiled and forgot about his ailment. The ulcer pangs brought him back to reality, ‘America’ and didn’t even realize that their masters’ mistress was in the room.

  Igoni saw the first half of the sick slaves and wondered whether to return as the whisperings from the slaves became increasingly loud. “Was returning going to put her off from her misery or would it only complicate issues”? She questioned herself. The odour emanating from the sick slaves were however unbearable though her thoughts masked it a little. Without much strength, she continued while ordering her aide to share the remaining pieces to the slaves and threatening to sack them if a word leaked to their master, Townsend. She stopped abruptly while looking at a man few steps away; she was full of smiles while thanking the gods of Bonny that her plan wasn’t a mistake after all. The smile and praises to the gods died out when she called out to him, aloud ‘Amana’! ‘Amana’! Amanabiefori Odikibiebuma! There wasn’t any response. Coming close only to find out that the man had breathed his last that moment. She felt her heart failing, the room became more tensed as she cried out,

  “Oh! Have I found and lost my Amana at once!? Shouldn’t it be lost and found?” “Oh! gods of Bonny what have you done to your children?” “Is this how you suffer your peoples?” she cried out in anguish “My death is near!” she exclaimed.

  The slaves were stunned that their so-called madam who had smiled a minute ago was now crying, for a dead slave. Moreover, why she called him Amana when that was not even his name was more astonishing. Some thought probably he had another name by which she knew him with; others knew it was a case of mistaken identity because the deceased known as Adepoju was from Old Oyo in Yorubaland. A slave now told her, “Ma, he is not your Amana…ahh...Odi…k...Buma”, “He was called Adepoju and was from yorubaland not Bonny.” Another added. Those words went into her as if she had taken water after a hot-peppered soup. She rose up and confusingly said “you mean his name is
not Amana…. and he is not from Bonny…Ah?” “Yes Ma” they chorused.

  Amanabiefori felt that he heard his name but wasn’t sure, so he asked a slave who was just returning from the scene, what was going on. Amanabiefori jumped out of his bed surprised; only his friends had known the cause of this sudden action because he had told them all about himself. The slave narrating the event was amazed by his sudden change and couldn’t understand a thing. He shouted, not minding the ulcer pangs, “don’t you know I’m Odikibiebuma Amanabiefori Dokubo eh! I’m from Bonny!” “Where is the mistress? I must see her at once, I may know her”. There was this sudden flow of strength into body as he approached their madam. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw Igoni’s figure from behind. ‘Am I dreaming or has this ulcer altered my vision’ he pondered humorously. “Igoni! Tamuno-Igoni! Is this you? Is this you?” he repeated ‘Who calls me by my full name? “Amana! Amanabiefori! Is this you”? She reversed the question as she turned. “In flesh and blood” he