Short Story: Afia Before European Involvement

by: Dave B., Kenny L., Maci N., Sara N.

A long time ago in Sub-Saharan Africa, in the 1400s, a gang from a small subsistence village near the trans-Saharan trade route had lost all hope. With most of their families and other villagers dead, killed by disease and starvation, they were desperate to survive.

Afia, roughly 15 years old, with Febe,Taavi, Ratan, and Hela, four similar-aged orphans, came together in response to the famine that had wiped out the majority of their village.They had been scavenging scraps and anything they could find to keep them alive.  A time came, amongst their many hunger-filled days, when they heard of a particular caravan, supposedly transporting a king’s image in gold and ivory, was soon to be traveling to the empire of Mali. This kind of opportunity didn’t come often, so Afia and his gang abruptly set out in hopes of finding riches and putting an end to their endless hunger.

For 40 days and 40 nights, they lyed in wait along the trans-Saharan route. Following the long days and short nights, eventually a caravan passed by with a wagon dipping much lower than any other that they had previously seen. To Afia and the rest, this clearly had to be the caravan they were waiting for.

They stalked the transport through the day until it came to a halt around dusk. Waiting until nobody was near, they approached the weighted wagon even closer. Slowly, Taavi peeked into the wagon’s interior. The second his head disappeared, his body collapsed into the ground, exposing the wound of a spear in his throat. As Febe screamed, the remaining four found themselves surrounded by spear and shield bearing fighters. In a failed attempt to escape the encirclement, Hela and Ratan decided to run in opposite directions. They were both met with the sharp ends of several sticks that ended their lives. Accepting their loss, Afia and Febe dropped to their knees and begged forgiveness. The hostile warriors were in no way sympathetic to their malnourished bodies and dirt stained hands. Neither the tears making tracks down their faces, nor their emotional pleadings had the slightest effect on their hardened hearts. However, the tallest warrior, who was dressed in colorful garb with gold adorning his neck, knew the two young thieves would give no more resistance.  He ordered them to be blindfolded and knocked out for the remainder of the journey.

Sometime later, Afia awoke to the sound of loud hammering. He grunted in pain as he sat up and realized that the hammering was only in his head. As he stared at his unfamiliar surroundings, he lifted a hand to feel the large lump on the back of his head. Matted with blood and extremely sore, it seemed as big as a mango. Although his heart was beginning to race with fear Afia knew that he would have to determine what kind of predicament the raid gone wrong had put him in. First, he realized he had been lying on bare ground, thankfully some sort of hut like structure had protected him from the sun’s glare. Next, he stood with his legs shaking and began to walk slowly out of the structure. He looked in wonder at what seemed like miles of crops and hundreds of people. The pounding in his head had distracted him from the overwhelming noise of his surroundings. Dark skinned men, women and children with hoes were chopping away at the soil. To the far left he could see others with scythes harvesting sorghum. Before long, an old woman noticed Afia standing just outside the hut and shoved a hoe into his hand. Confused, he tried to ask what was going on but she quickly went back to her own work. Back home, Afia had helped his family produce grains and he knew how to fight back the weeds. Though he was injured, he was still strong and could easily do the work. As his arms worked tirelessly, his mind worked too. Afia sadly had to accept his fate as a slave but he wondered how long he would have to work like this. He pondered how many years the old woman from earlier had been here. Time seemed to pass slowly, each day was more of the same work. Once, he saw Febe but it seemed as though she was spared from the labor and did tasks for a master instead.  

Over the years, the land flourished under the care of slaves directed by their masters (food producers). The slaves cultivated cereals, pulses, roots and tubers, legumes, oil crops, and stimulants to supply food to the kinship as well as for trade with the neighboring kingdoms and empires. To intensify the production of those crops, they developed diverse systems and used iron tools. At the end of the wet-season harvest, they would use the land to raise livestock; the manure produced would then be used to restore the soil fertility and so prepared the land for the next planting season. They used heavy plows to turn over the soil, so that the growing plants get enough nutrients. Cows were generally used for plowing, which caused milk production to decrease during plowing time. When draft animals were unavailable, the slaves would have to pull the plough.  Hoeing was another way of loosening the soil. Because the handles of the hoes were very short, this was back-breaking work.To plant new seed, Afia and other workers walked back and forth over a still moist field, a bag in one hand and spreading the seed with the other. Sometimes he would have a two handled woven basket tied around his neck, both his hands free for sowing. They also burned secondary growth for ash, plant beans, and leguminous trees on part of the land to increase fertility. This agricultural prosperity was almost always at the hands of slaves, whose lives were arduous and punishing.

Afia had lost count of the many days he had been in the Empire. He didn’t even know how old he was. After a very prosperous season, a devastating drought hit and the crops died. It was impossible to plant new crops and soon the slaves began to fight over water rations. After a while, there were no more rations provided. Afia began to suspect that even the masters were struggling to find enough water. Soon, no more trade caravans entered or left the city and people began to die of extreme dehydration or starvation.  The community was not prepared for this disaster.  The masters no longer came to ensure that slaves were working the fields and violence ensued. With violence there was bloodshed; slaves and masters alike fought with spear and hoe for the last sustenance of the city. Those that survived the famine and chose not to partake in the violence, fled the empire in hopes of finding a new home. Now, being freed from his bondage during the chaos, Afia was terrified of what the future might bring and repeating his past but knew that he could not survive in the ruins. By a stroke of luck, he was able to find Febe and they ran off together. Not knowing what would become of their future, they charged blindly, hand in hand, optimistically searching for blackberry tea. Its lit.

References:

Carney, Judith A. and Richard Nicholas Rosomoff. In the Shadow of Slavery: Africa’s Botanical Legacy in the Atlantic World. Berkeley and Los Angeles, California: University of California Press. Print. 2009.

McCann, J. “The Ox Plow Complex: An Ecological Revolution.” In People of the Plow: An
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Reader, John. Africa: A Biography of the Continent. Vintage Books: New York. 1997.

Voortman, Roelf L. et al. “African Land Ecology: Opportunities and Constraints for Agricultural Development.” A Journal of the Human Environment. Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. 2003. Web. 3 Feb
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