We arrive to the front of the ship to realize that this is a place we do not want to be. I look around and see hundreds of Africans chained up and guarded by giant white men, just like me. Some of the Africans looked like they had been beaten up along the way. It was a terrible sight to see. Through all the chaos I could only think about my mother and where she was. I was afraid my mother might have been dead and the thought of this brought me more rage than I knew was possible.

The white men took my group to this massive ship where I saw many people of my kind screaming, crying, and being separated from their families. I saw one man punch the tall white man because he refused to board that devilish ship. At that moment I felt strong enough to take on these evil white men, until I saw these men retaliate. I saw three dogs run toward this tall muscular African man and they jumped onto his dark, sweaty skin, sinking their sharp claws into his body. These aggressive dogs seemed like they were hungrier than I was and they were satisfying their appetite. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t because his screeching cry had control of my attention. All I could see was his skin being torn off his body and his blood being washed over the dogs and the ground. I felt my hear pound rapidly and my stomach turn upside down. I was afraid to move, talk, and even cry, not knowing what would happen to me.


The evil men forced us toward the ship while they degraded us by calling us derogatory names like “You pieces of sh*t!” and “You good for nothing stupid Africans!” I had no respect for these men and wanted them to die in the most painful way. When we got closer to the ship they pushed and kicked us on board, while cracking joke to each other as we walked. I couldn’t understand why someone would doo this and how no one even tried to stop them. I turned around before I boarded and took one last look at my country only to see my tribal leader talking to a group of these white men. I saw them give my tribal leader weapons as they exchanged smiles. I couldn’t believe it! I had never felt o betrayed in my life. I could only think to myself, how a man that we perceived as noble and honorable could give us up for weapons. I walked onto the ship praying to God that nothing worse would happen. I walk on the ship and I see more of these white men. They yell at us, telling us to go down the stairs to the bottom of the ship. Walking down these stairs was very terrifying because it was dark, the stairs were making weird noises, and there was this horrific smell that made me want to vomit. I heard many people down there crying, moaning and even some praying. I knew this was going to be a long journey for me. I was always told that I was mature for my age, but this was one of those times that I wish I could act like my eight-year old self and crawl into my mother’s arms and cry; but she was not there.

I had to watch where I was walking because there was pee, vomit, and even bowel movements all over the floor. The space down there was very limited and I struggled to find somewhere to sleep. I crawled to the top of these so called “beds” that were wooden and cramped so closely that I could feel the breath of the person beside me and hear their heartbeat. I lay on top of the wooden bed that I would have for a very long time close to forever. The person next to me was cuddled up and kept mumbling something while rocking side to side. It was hard to understand what he was saying, but I listened to him closely.
“We’re all going to die. God take me now!” he stated repeatedly.

I turned on my other side, closed my eyes, and hoped that this was a nightmare I would wake up from. I knew that I was giving myself false hope, but I just could not live in this reality. The white men came down yelling things that I was unable to understand. They started grabbing people and taking them upstairs. There was screaming and crying and I could not hear it. People were running up trying to grab them and stop the white men from taking them. These white men started punching and kicking those that ran up, but he couldn’t stop them. One white man that was being ambushed yelled to his friends at the top of the boat and they came running with guns. Everything seemed to suddenly be in slow motion. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! They shot and killed those who tried to stop them.


I covered my mouth, refraining from letting out a forceful scream and squeezed my eyes tightly making myself believe that didn’t happen. I held back my tears that wanted to bleed out. The sounds of the cries struck my heart. I couldn’t take this anymore: the killings, the beatings, the deaths. I believed I was going through all this as a punishment from God. I remembered how I skipped school one day to go out with my friends. I knew karma would get me someday for that sin, but I didn’t expect this. I lay on my side, clasped my hands together, and begged for forgiveness.


The night was approaching, but I was too afraid to go to sleep because I did not know what would happen to me. My eyes began to droop own and my body became relaxed. I started to fall asleep when I feel something wet dripping down on my feet. It was very warm and had a nasty feeling. I instantly pulled my feel toward me and smelled them to know what was on them. I knew exactly what it was and gagged. This was the worst feeling ever. I was now unable to sleep because I didn’t want to be peed on again. At this point, I truly hated my life.
As the sky darkened, it was hard to tell where everybody was unless they moved around. I knew that I couldn’t be the only one that was unable to sleep. I decided to force myself to go to sleep because I was only safe in my dreams. I said my final prayer of the night, just hoping and having faith that tomorrow would not get worse.

The next morning we were awaken by Satan’s helpers. They came downstairs, yelling at us and making us get up. One lady was apparently in a deep sleep and continued sleeping. The white man walked over to her and shook her, trying to wake her up. He takes his foot and kicks her onto the floor, stomping on her and beating her. He puts his hand on her neck and found out she was dead. He covered his mouth in order to hide his laughter. I tried to stop staring, but I couldn’t help it. Throughout this struggle all I have seen is many people, yet I am still not used to it. The white man grabs five of us Africans to take the body upstairs. This older, heavier lady begins crying terribly, while trying to stop them. The white man slaps her across the face, laughing and walking away. I could hear the screams of those that just walked up stairs. I squeezed myself tightly every time I heard a whip snap against their flesh. The noise suddenly stops. Footsteps are heard coming down the stairs and we all become silent. It was the white man returning except this time he had a swollen lip and a scar across his right cheek. His clothes were slightly torn and his sweat was shinier than ever.

“Well so ya’ll lil’ bastards like to start a fight with me n’ my men up there?” The white man said calmly. I could tell that everyone was terrified, “I SAID YA’LL LIL’ BASTARDS LIKE TO START A FIGHT WITH ME N’ MA MEN UP THERE!”


Chills began to run through my body as my fear grew. I didn’t know what to do and I tried to close my eyes and pretend it wasn’t happening. The silence was unbearable. I was afraid that he was going to kill us all, even though that would not have been the worst thing that has e began to walk away and then he slowly turned around, “Ya’ll lil’ friends up there swimming wit’ those bulldog sharks and ya’ll are next!”

I look over to see the same lady that tried to slap him drip tears and shake once she heard the news. I began to wonder if that was the same thing that happened to my mother. My mother is the only reason I am standing and I will not give up until I find her: dead or alive. Everyone stood still, not moving due to all the fear caused by this one white man. No one knew who was next to being thrown in the water to be ripped and eaten by the sharks. I just hoped that it wasn’t me.

I return to my terribly uncomfortable “bed” where I hear the weeping sounds and prayers of the men and women surrounding me. This night had to have been the hottest one yet. My clothes were thin and practically ripped up. I could feel the sweat of the two people next to me as it dripped down my tiny body. The heat did not help the horrible smell at the bottom of the ship either. The bottom of the ship was never clean so the smells of pee, vomit, and bowels were overwhelming. No one has had a bath since we were captured, so we all smell terrible. Anytime someone near me moves I can smell the atrocious smell of a wet dog combined with the smell of garbage.


I hate lying in this bed because it always causes me to think. Think about my future, where my mother might be, and what will happen next. I cannot even remember the last time I was happy. I remember a week before my mother and I were taken she promised that we were moving from our small little shack house to Europe. She always said that I deserved more and that she was going to make that happen for me. I could not have been happier to have a better life, where we don’t constantly live in fear of a storm destroying our home or being kicked out from new laws. I was so happy and now everything has changed. My life no longer has meaning. I am peed on every night; no one even knows who I am. I was so close to a greater life and I got the complete opposite! Every day I am afraid of dying or getting sick because I know that if I do I will be torn limb from limb by cold blooded sharks. I just want my life back no matter how terrible it was and how poor we were, I just want my life and my mother back. The worst part is that I am giving myself false hope because deep down I know that my life will never be the same. Once again I cry myself to sleep.

When I wake up my stomach feels completely empty like a hot are balloon. The white men decided not to feed us last night. I guess they were still angry about people fighting back. My face was drenched in sweat and it was hard for me to breathe. Usually, I can get out of my “bed” because the man next to me is awake, but he was still there. I tap him lightly, trying to wake him, but still no answer. After it had felt like hours I tried waking him up once again. I whispered, “Excuse me mister.” and still no answer. I shook him harder, yet no answer. I felt like something was wrong, but I just couldn’t figure it out. He had been sick all night and I really didn’t want to wake him because he needed sleep, but I had to get up. I call one of the ladies over to help me wake him. Her eyes began to open widely as she put her hands on his wrist. I do not understand why she would touch his wrist when I need him to get up. He lady then runs to grab someone else.

“It’s happened again.” The woman says as she wipes her face. I did not think that asking for help would cause so many problems. I only wanted to get up. A man walks over to the lady and puts his hands on her shoulder and begins to pray. I can’t really make out what they’re saying, but I know it has something to do with that man. His body was still and I tried my best to crawl over his body without touching him, but I couldn’t help but feel his sweaty skin slide across my body.


The man that prayed too my hand and asked, “Did you know this poor man?”


“No, no I didn’t why? Is he still sick and tired? Probably from the so-called food.” I stopped myself from rambling on when I noticed his head drop down. “What is wrong?”


“Well this man died and he was only about 30-years old. There is nothing that can be done and once they find out he’ll truly be gone forever.” He said as if he didn’t care.



I just couldn’t believe what happened. I had been next to this man for what felt like years and now he is dead. Is my mother dead too? What did that man mean if they found out he’ll be gone forever? What would happen? I have so many questions that I feel will never be answered. Could I die tomorrow in my sleep like him? I feel so angry at myself for trying to shake and wake this dead body. I just feel so selfish to not have even thought that this man was dead.

The white men run down the stairs ordering us to all stand up straight. There were three of them, all tall and firm with big chests and feet. They gazed over to my dead neighbor and a huge grin crossed over their faces.


“Hey! We’ve got another one! Them sharks ‘bout to love us!” One exclaimed as if that was the best thing that had ever happened to him. The others help drag the body up the stairs. The sound of the man’s head hitting each stair as he was being dragged felt like shocks to my ear. I knew I would never see that man again and once again I wanted to cry.


“No! Please don’t take him! Please!” One lady cried as she grabbed on one of the men’s clothes. It was terrible to see this woman beg with everything she has, which was little to nothing. The man tried to continue walking, but the lady wouldn’t let go. He spat, kicked, and punched her, but her desire keep that body from the sharks kept her strong. The white man took out his whip and slashed her body numerous times. The sounds of her screams pierced my ears as the blood from her wounds dripped down her body. With every slash her screams grew louder and her grip grew tighter. I did not know what to do. None of us did. I did not want to watch, but I couldn’t stop myself. The white man began to get tired because his slashes became slower. Her body became still on the ground. She was still alive because her chest was still moving up and down.


“You’re a strong lil’ b***h!” He yelled as he panted. He began to reach for something in his pocket. He pulled out his gun and kicked her one good time in the stomach. Her body became scrunched up as she was barely able to breathe. He looked up at us and said, “Let this be the last example of what will happen if you f**k with us again!” He put the gun up to her face and said, “But you ain’t strong enough!” POW! POW! POW! He fired his gun and three times into her face. With every gun shot her body shook and was lifeless. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and cover my mouth from screaming. Looking at that women lose her life for fighting over something she wanted made me think of my mother. She reminded me of her so much and I know that if this lady died from fighting for someone them my mother must be dead too.

The white man stood up as if his body was weak and he wiped the sweat off of this face. Everyone stood still. They began to pray and pray. I couldn’t help but breakdown in tears. I knew that anything would be better than this. I truly hated my life and everything that happened. I knew that once I got off this boat my life would get better. Anything would be better than this boat where I am hardly fed; where I am peed on constantly; where my existence is unrecognized; and where I am alone.

We must have been coming close to our destination because they began to give more and more sick bodies to the sharks. I made sure that I did not even cough because people were beginning to tell on the sick just to gain a little more food to eat. Yesterday some of the African men beat another man to death because he continued to tell on people. The white men found him dead and treated him just like they treated the others: like garbage. The bottom of the ship was not as crowded as it used to be, but it was still very crowded. Most of the people had either died or been murdered. I never thought that I would ever be able to say that I am used to people dying. The only motivation I had throughout this trip was hoping that my mother was alive. She is stronger than me and I know deep down she is keeping strong for me as I am keeping strong for her.

We finally made it to our destination, where I knew I would be forced to stay forever. I knew that I would never step foot on African soil again. I prayed that I would no longer hear the screams of those being murdered and thrown in the water for the sharks. This journey seemed like years, but it had only been a few a months. The white men began hauling us off the boat with our chains. They complained about our odor and called us pigs and animals, but I had become immune to the scent. They dragged my line of chained innocent people off the boat and I could see the dead people being dragged across the wooden floor board. I learned that I couldn’t cry anymore because if I did then I would die. For the first time since I was back in Africa, before this devastating trip, I was able to see my skin in the light. I used to believe that my skin was beautiful because it resembled my mother’s, but when I look at it now, it is trash. I am trash. I am constantly being punished by God. I have been spat on, beat, stabbed and defecated and urinated on. I really do not want to cry, but my fear of dying without seeing my mother pulls back my tears.



Hey! B***h!” a white man yelled. “Get your dirty, ugly, a** over here now!”


I was unable to move because I was too frightened. His voice was deep and loud with an angry tone that would scare the most dangerous animals. He was about 6’6 ft with enormous muscles and a full beard like a lumberjack. His hands were the size of my head and his eyes showed no mercy.



“So I see you can’t speak English you dumb lil’ African.” He said as he walked closer to me. I felt a wide knot in my stomach ant almost fell to the ground. I could now smell the alcohol and smoke from his breath and could taste his sweat as it dripped down my forehead onto my lips. I was terrified to look up because I knew that I would feel inferior.


Boom! He slapped me across my face with a force so hard that I nearly fell backwards. I could feel the welts form on my cheek as I tried to regain my balance. He pulled out his rifle and pointed it in between my eyebrows.



“The next time I address you, you lil b***h, you answer me you understand?!” He demanded.



“Ye, ye, yes sir. I understand.” I stuttered, doing my best not to pee on myself. My head hung low and I truly wanted to die. I could barely see out of my right eye because it had been swollen so badly. The people next to me did not say one word to me; they acted as if nothing had happened and that hurt me even more. I knew now that I was truly alone, alone in this world that continues to chew me up and spit me out like scum. The only person that ever understood me was my mother, but she was missing and may never come back.

The white Satan’s order us to continue walking for miles and miles. My feet are tearing just like the last time, but I try to hold on. The stop us randomly and tell us we’re going to play a game. I was so confused and didn’t understand why they wanted us to play a game. The other chained people began to look excited, but I felt something was wrong. The white men begin to smile, but they weren’t happy smiles only devious ones.

“Now, I’m gone pick a number between 0 and 1000 and you better hope you get it right!” one of the white men yelled as the other men reached for their rifles. He walked up to a woman that looked like all her hope was gone. He pointed to her face as she glanced up; not knowing what was going to happen to her. He called her many horrifying names while intentionally spitting on her with every word. He began to walk away and then turned around and shot her. My body shook in fear. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the darkness behind my eyelids portrayed the picture of what just happened.

That man repeated that action over and over again. He noticed me and began to approach me. I felt like I was going to vomit as my stomach started to cave in. it was the same man that hit me earlier and I knew that he didn’t like me already. He came closer and closer to me and lowered himself to my height, with his nose barely touching mine.


“Hey, you dumb fool! Remember me? Cuz’ I sholl remember ya!” He yelled making me almost stumble. Before I could answer this tall muscular, dark skinned man answered for me.


“She is not dumb like all of your idiotic friends.” he stated calmly without showing any fear. “Just leave her alone and pick on someone you know can fight back!”


“You done lost yo’ mind talkin’ to meh like dat!” The white man said coming closer to him trying to show his authority with his guns.


“I am not afraid to die for my people. So shoot me! At least I die standing up for something. When you die you still die an idiot that’s power is in a steel tool.”


The white man was speechless and started kicking and stomping on the man. I turn around to see his mouth full of blood and blood dripping from his face. I knew that this was my fault and wished that I would have been shot first. That man did not deserve to die and I know that he regretted sticking up for me. I lean back to take one more glance and saw the white man take his rifle and blow one huge hole in his head. I was so close to letting out a screeching cry. I couldn’t bear to see parts of his brain and blood splatter over the ground. He died as a hero to me. The white man had more anger and rage than I have ever seen in my life. He slowly turned around and began to charge towards me. I closed my eyes and pictured all the good times my mother and I had and smiled one last time.