Writing from the Perspective of a Slave

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My name is Mukua-kulua (warrior or brave one). My father gave me this name, because I fight everything; I am never scared of nothing. My home is in the kingdom of N’dongo. I was not yet born when some white man, came to my kingdom and start changing, the way that my tribe dressed, eat, talk and teaching how to worship their God. All members of my tribe had to learn these new things, and work for these white men. We were being colonized, as we had to learn and assimilate their habits. After that the white men who lived in my kingdom and my tribe lived all together. They learned some of our rituals, and expertise to hunt and survive in the African savannahs; it was a fusion of the white men habits and my tribe habits. Even though, this was our land there had being secession. The white men dominated our lands with their religion, language, and habits. Soon enough, most of the tribes around us were talking and living like them. We had no idea that our life’s were about to change again; our families were about to be apart, and many of our people were going to be killed, has they were expulse from their home.

Everything started a few years ago. It was a warm and beautiful night in Africa; the dark blue sky was full of stars… and those were the last things I remember before I woke up in a cold and wet floor. I do not know where I was, or why I my hands were tight behind my back.

However, now I was scared, as I was listening to women and babies crying, as I could see my friends bleeding and hurt. What happened? Where was I? At that point, I knew that I was far from home. The white men took us away from our land. We had being expulse from our kingdom, to some other place that we did not know.

A few days had past, and we were still in that dark, wet, and cold place. They gave us food and water, but we are very scared of these white men. Later I found that we had being sold to work for other white men. The dark, wet, and cold place was a boat.

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