Kanaifu- The Lost Heart

This story is not nearly done. This is merely a small portion of the Rough Draft that I'm posting, looking for feedback and constructive criticism. All those willing to give advice are welcome, so by all means, be critical!

Just remember, it is a Rough Draft


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         The Slave Trade was one of the harshest and most devastating events in African history. Approximately 20 million Africans were shipped from their homes to the Americas in brutal conditions, and nearly 2 million were killed. That’s a massive 10% mortality rate. Those 90% that did survive were forced into slavery there entire lives.
         Now Kanaifu was a brave little African boy, who rarely faced troubles on his own; his brother had always been there for him. He lived in a fairly large, though isolated village called Kataisa, separated into four sections, namely North Kataisa, South Kataisa, East Kataisa, and West Kataisa. Kanaifu’s father, Shamakani, was a respected member of the Kataisa Chief Committee. Because of this, Kanaifu always was traveling to different parts of the village and beyond to see his father. He became self-sufficient, and relied on his own skills for survival. To recount one event in particular, he was traveling with his brother, Chionesu. The following script was translated from a journal he kept with him while he was on a slave trip traveling the North Atlantic Ocean.


PART I- The Abduction

         “Come, Kanaifu, we must hurry if we wish to reach father in time,” called my brother, Chionesu as he looked back at me. We had reached the bottom of a dip in the dirt road, which stretched up in both directions. The trees arched over us, forming a sort of tunnel. It was late in the evening, and we needed to be at Father’s in North Kataisa in half an hour.
         “Look, Chionesu, these tracks lead into the woods,” I said.
         “We don’t have time for this. The southern point of Kataisa is still fifteen minutes away,” he answered, walking back to me. We peeked into the woods and saw foot prints trail off through the tall grass.
         “I bet if we follow this trail, it could save ten minutes of walking around this patch of trees,” I said.
         “Hmm… good point. This should take us strait into Kataisa,” he said, “Good find, little brother.” His warm smile filled me with a sense of cordiality. I was 16, and Chionesu was 17. He wasn’t much older, yet he always looked out for me. He would make me laugh when I was sad. Encourage me when I was struggling. He would guide me when I was lost, and pick me up when I had fallen.
I looked up at the setting sun, and said, “It’s getting dark…” The trees blocked out what little light was left. Chionesu, in his infinite preparedness, pulled out a lantern from his backpack. He always seemed to have exactly the right tool at exactly the right time.
         “Not a problem,” he said. I smiled as he lit the lantern.
         We stepped into the thick undergrowth. The warm, encouraging light of the late evening was replaced by an unforgiving darkness, whose clutches were held back only by the dimmer light emanating from the propitious lantern grasped in Chionesu’s hands. The branches cracked under our feet as we waded through untended, wild African underbrush.
         Suddenly, my toe caught on a rock, and pulled my momentum downward. The woods were a blur, and my view of the vast empty darkness was replaced with the rough ground. “Oof!” I landed face-down in the dirt and grass. Chionesu helped me onto my feet.
         “Dang, Kanaifu, you’re bleeding.” I sat on a tree stump, and my brother set down the lantern to pull a first aid kit out of his pack. After I was patched up, I thanked him and we continued ahead.
         “This place is a little creepy,” I said.
         “Not scared, are you?” He joked, though I could hear a slight quiver in his voice.
         “Ha. No…” I looked behind me. The opening we came through was far behind, covered with layers of darkness. I looked ahead. The lantern provided about ten feet of visibility, but beyond that was the unknown. The unknown. With each step we took, we delved deeper into this unfamiliar territory. Nothing could be worse than this. Or so I thought.
         Chionesu stopped. I looked back and saw he was looking at the ground.
         “Hey… where’d the tracks go…?” he asked. My eyes darted to the ground. I had forgotten we were following the tracks!
         “Oh no, oh God, I thought you were following them!” I cried.
         “I thought you were!”
         “Ooh!”
         “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, waving his hands, “we’ll just keep walking strait. We never turned, so that should take us back to the other side of these woods.”
He was wrong. We walked for another five minutes, before I said, “We’re lo-”
         “No,” he interrupted me, “we aren’t lost.” The lamp was growing dim, as it’s once comforting shine faded away. Every crack of a branch, every whisper of ill thoughts sounded as loud as a tiger’s roar throughout my trembling thoughts. Suddenly, something caught my toe and I tripped. I couldn’t help holler as, once again, I felt a whoosh of air, as my view of the woods blurred. I threw my hands out in front of me to cushion the blow as my sandal pried off my right foot and flew over my head.
         “Kanaifu, you okay?” he asked, helping me up again.
         “W-wait,” I stopped him, “This is the same rock. And there’s the tree stump! We’ve gone in a circle!” Chionesu stood there, staring at the tree stump. He was dumbfounded.
         “Chionesu!” I grabbed his shoulders and shook.
         He looked up at me, and for the first time in my life, I saw fear in Chionesu’s eyes. “I’m sorry, brother…” he said. Before I could answer, I heard a whispering in the wind. I looked out into the darkness, and saw just that: the unforgiving, unknown darkness; creeping in as the lantern grew ever dimmer. I heard footsteps now, and I stepped closer to my brother, “Chionesu…?” I muttered, still staring into the dark. He pulled out a dull hunting knife, and got into a deep stance. Two blinding lights ripped out from the darkness without warning, sending me backwards as I shielded my eyes. My head landed on the tree stump. Overcome by dizziness, my eyes slowly adjusted to the unexpected and dramatic change in radiance. I heard a man… no, two men yelling in a language I had never heard. My vision blurred, and I squinted my eyes. I heard a ferocious war cry as my brother leaped up and attacked one of the men standing by his brilliant lamp. I came to the intense realization that the men were white. I had heard stories of strange “European white men” coming to our land, but until now they were only myths… or were they? I thought back to three days ago when I overheard a conversation between Chionesu and our father, Shamakani.

         I was walking back to our hut after fetching some water. I carried the bucket          of water with two hands as I neared home. I could hear Father and Chionesu          talking in a low voice. I leaned my ear against the wall to eavesdrop.
         “…are coming into the villages?” I heard Chionesu ask.
         “Yes. Supposedly they are taking people away to a faraway land to be forced          into slavery.”
         “My God... Should we tell Kanaifu?”
         “No. Our village is isolated, so they more than likely won’t come here.”

         Were they speaking of the white men? I looked up and saw Chionesu stab one man in the leg. The man slammed him in the head with his long metal stick.
         “Chionesu!” I screamed. Tears rushed from my eyes, and I felt time slow down. I could hear my voice ring out. It sounded so far away, as though another man had spoken. It echoed through the darkness and rang back at me, vibrating in my head. I pulled myself off the ground, and overcome by anger, I found myself snarling and lunging at the white man, fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palm, gushing out blood. Then, suddenly, the second white man thrust out his metal weapon. My forehead slammed into the shaft, lurching me backwards. All the colors faded away and I was thrown into unconsciousness.
         I couldn’t remember much after that. I woke a few times. The first, I was being carried on a horse. I was bound and gagged. It was light out, so it must have been the next morning. I watched as the vast landscape rolled past me. The second, we were in a building, still bound. I saw the two white men that attacked us, as well as three others, eating a meal by the fire. I was on the opposite side of the wooden lodge, next to my brother. I tried to find the strength to speak to him, but he was still unconscious, and I still was gagged. There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to thank him, and to apologize, but I was soon out cold again.