Ama (2 page)

The young men's room stood to one side of its own inner compound. Near the entrance there was a large granary, raised off the ground on three legs, full of sorghum. The room seemed bare. The young men who slept there had taken their weapons and drums and dancing head dresses to Sekwadzim's burial. The warriors were less nervous: clearly the compound was deserted.

“What's this?” asked Issaka in a low voice.

It was a large turtle shell. In it lay the head of a crocodile, encased in a matrix of pulped roots, wrapped in fibres and stuck with porcupine quills. He prodded it with his spear.

“Take care,” replied Damba. “That is their medicine.”

“Ei!” exclaimed Issaka, taking a step back. “I fear.”

A third man joined them.

“What are you two up to?” he asked. “Abdulai is impatient. We have much work to do today.”

“Tell him we are searching the place to make sure there is no one hiding here. Did you see the pot cooking on the fire? They can't have gone far.”

He paused.

“There is a wooden chest in the next room,” he continued. “Break it open and see if there is anything of value inside. That will keep Abdulai happy.”

Bato's kitchen was full of pots and firewood. The smoked carcass of a small buck hung on the wall.

They passed into Tabitsha's room. It was much like Bato's.

“There is nothing here,” said Damba, turning to leave.

In her refuge, under the pile of skins, Nandzi lay petrified. She heard the men's voices in the room but did not understand what they were saying. What if Nowu should wake up and cry out, revealing their presence? She placed her hand over the child's mouth. But Nowu's nose was blocked. Unable to breathe, he woke and struggled to free himself.

“Wait,” said Issaka. The skins had moved. He flipped them aside with the point of his spear. Nandzi and Nowu lay revealed. Nandzi screamed and clasped her hands over her head, as if trying to make herself invisible. Nowu, still half asleep, sensed her fear and began to cry.

“Ah, what have we here?” shouted Issaka in excitement.

This was their first catch and he, Issaka, had made it. Abdulai came into the room, fuming with impatience.

“Issaka, Damba,” he bellowed. “If there is no one . . .”

He cut himself short as he saw the figure of the girl cringing on the floor.

Then he repeated Issaka's question.

“What have we here?”

Striding across the room in his long red boots, he grabbed Nandzi by her upper arm, lifting her to her feet. Nowu was holding Nandzi's cloth and as she was pulled away from him, the cloth unwound, leaving her unclothed. She stretched out a hand for the garment, but it was too late.

“What have we here?” Abdulai echoed again, deliberately enunciating each word.

He relaxed his grip on the girl and at once Nandzi tried to run; but the doorway was blocked by Issaka and Damba. Moving swiftly, Abdulai grabbed her two arms from behind.

“Get out of here,” he told his two lieutenants, spitting the words from between his teeth.

They fled their master's anger.

“Now we shall have some fun together, shall we not?” he said to Nandzi.

Leaving her right arm free he grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her buttocks against his penis, which had taken its stand beneath his baggy pantaloons as soon as he had seen her naked body.

Nandzi struggled, striking him repeatedly with the elbow of her free arm.

“You beast. You filthy pig,” she screamed at him.

Abdulai just laughed. He was much too strong for her.

“I don't hear your language, my darling,” he replied, “but I am sure that those are words of love.”

Nowu was screaming uncontrollably.

“Issaka, Damba” he called.

A head appeared in the door.

“Take this child,” he ordered; and then, “Get out, get out.”

He struggled to hold on to Nandzi with one hand, freeing the other to release his pantaloons and lift his heavy leather armour. The pantaloons dropped to his ankles. His penis pressed on Nandzi's bare skin. He was no longer the dignified commander of a company of slave hunters. His instincts had taken control of him. He was a two legged animal bent on copulation.

He forced Nandzi down. With his left arm he pinned her shoulders to the ground. With his right hand he took his penis and guided it into her vagina, sighing as he penetrated into the depths of her body. Nandzi continued to scream abuse at him and struggle. But now he had two hands free to pin her wrists to the ground. Nandzi twisted her head and snapped her teeth over his fat index finger. She felt the bone and the warm spurt of blood in her mouth before she heard his cry.

“You bitch. You filthy, verminous bitch

He spat out the words as he dragged his hand from her.

“I will teach you to trifle with Abdulai.”

He moved her wrists out of range and put the weight of his elbows on her arms. Then he began to drive into her. In and out he drove, just as he had often driven his spear repeatedly into the body of a prone victim, relishing the fountain of blood, thrusting the spear in again and again long after his adversary was dead.

He moved her hands onto the back of her head and forced her face into the polished dung floor.

“I will teach you. I will teach you. I will teach you. Remember me. My name is Abdulai. Abdulai the famous general of Dagbon.”

Deeper and harder he drove. Nandzi could not control her sobs. Suddenly, as he plumbed her depths, she felt a surge of pain unlike anything she had ever before experienced. It was as if he had mounted the sharp iron head of his assegai onto the end of his penis. Each time he plunged into her, the pain rose to a crescendo. She screamed in agony but he paid no heed. Once, twice, three times. She summoned up all her strength in a superhuman effort to throw him off, but he was too strong and too heavy. Then she lost consciousness.

Abdulai completed his business inside her and rested on her prone body. As his penis shrunk, he became aware of the pain in his finger and placed it in his mouth to stem the flow of blood. Then he rose to his feet and drew up his pantaloons with his free hand. Nandzi's cotton cloth lay where it had fallen on the ground. He picked it up and with his teeth tore off a strip to use as a bandage.

“Damba, Issaka,” he called, dropping the cloth on Nandzi's still body. The two warriors had been watching Abdulai's performance discreetly from a distance hoping perhaps that their commander would reward them for their discovery by allowing them to exercise their own erections, but they were to be disappointed.

“Take this hussy and put her on a horse,” he ordered. “Tie her well. Then collect the cloth and skins and let's get out of here. This place gives me the spooks.”

He hid his bleeding finger from them. The blood had soaked through the bandage.

CHAPTER 2

When Nandzi came to, she was lying face-down on the back of a horse, securely trussed.

Her cloth had been wrapped around her and her arms bound to her body with leather thongs. Her legs hung down on one side and her head on the other. Alongside the tethered horse stood another, piled high with the family's chattels.

Her body ached from head to foot. When she moved, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen.

Damba emerged from the compound, carrying two hoes.

“Ah, the lady has awakened,” he said, threading the shafts of the hoes through the ropes which bound the plundered goods to the pack horse.

There was no sign of the other members of his party.

“Water,” Nandzi whispered, but Damba did not understand.

He untied the horses, put boot to stirrup and hoisted himself onto his saddle. Nandzi felt the animal move beneath her. She had never before been on a horse. For a moment she was overcome by terror so stark that it transcended her pain. Then she heard Nowu's wail.

“Nowu. Nowu,” she cried.

She struggled to free herself but there was no escape.

“The Asante have no use for small children,” Damba said, flicking his whip on the horse's withers, “and, as for you, you will have plenty of time to get down and walk, once we are clear of danger.”

He guessed that Nandzi did not understand his language, but the sound of his own voice allayed his fear of being alone in Bekpokpam territory.

Nandzi moaned. Every step the horse took jarred her body and sent shooting pains through her belly. Her tongue was parched and there was a foul taste of vomit in her mouth. At first she lay limp, but the movement of the horse threw her head from side to side and up and down. She felt her neck would snap. So she raised her head as far as the thongs would allow and tensed her neck muscles. A cloud of red dust enveloped them, irritating her nostrils. She sneezed. Her hands were bound. A mixture of mucus and dust hung from her nose until the motion of the horse shook it free. Tears ran down her cheeks and soon her face was marked with red streaks. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. What had happened? What should she do?

The horse stumbled. Suddenly, as in a nightmare, she felt Abdulai driving into her again She screamed.

“Shut your mouth, woman,” Damba told her.

Nandzi shook her head vigorously and breathed out hard through her nose, trying to dislodge a thread of mucus.
Nowu, all alone by himself in the compound,
she thought; and she despaired.
Sick as he is, he might just wander off and be eaten by a some wild beast. Tabitsha will blame me for not looking after him properly. And Tigen, my father, who speaks to me so rarely these days, surely he will not be able to contain his wrath?
Then it struck her that she might never see them again.
Where is this man taking me? What will they do with me?
She shuddered again at the thought of Abdulai.
What if he were to take me as his wife? Better to die
. With every fibre in her body, she hated him.
I will kill him in his sleep and then try to escape. If I have to, I will risk the rage of the ancestors and kill myself afterwards.

She saw the ground through the cloud of dust and flies which kept them company. Her eyes itched and she squeezed them shut, moving through a dark void, rising and falling with the motion of the horse. The image of Abdulai returned to her again and again. He was a giant black fly, mounting her from behind. She opened her eyes to drive the spectre away.

They reached the summit of a ridge. Damba led the two horses through a farm. Their hooves kicked up the small mounds of earth, breaking the fresh yam shoots. Nandzi studied the head of the pack horse, its flaring nostrils, the shock of hair which fell forward between its ears, its mild eyes.
What does a horse know?
she wondered. She looked at the load on its back. With a shock she recognised the pattern of one of Tabitsha's favourite cloths.
They must have stolen everything they found in the compound.
She gnashed her teeth.
It is lucky
, she thought,
that they put on their best for the funeral
.

“You, our ancestors,” she whispered, using words she had heard spoken by the elders, “who send us rain, and shelter our homes and our farms from winds and lightning, it is I, Nandzi, daughter of Tigen, speaking. I have no drink to give you, but you will surely know the reason.”

Tears came to her eyes. She concentrated on her task.

“The Bedagbam came on their horses and stole our goods. Their leader assaulted me. They abducted me from those who nurtured me and cherish me. My small brother, Nowu, is all alone, sick with fever and exposed to the wild beasts. Father of my father Tigen, father of Tigen's father and your forefathers before you, whose names are lost in time, strike down our oppressors. Especially, I beg you to kill the cruel one who raped me, who does not deserve to live amongst human beings. Hear my call. I will give you food and drink when I am able.”

Then a thought came to her.
Perhaps it is the ancestors themselves who have sent this trouble to me. It was just as I was tasting the meat soup that the raiders came. The ancestors are punishing me because I ate meat.

So she spoke to them again.

“Father of Tigen, it is me again, Nandzi. It is true that I tasted the antelope soup, but I only took a small sip. I had no evil intent. If I have angered you by my conduct, I implore you to forgive me. I will never repeat the offence. I promise.”

“Stop that mumbling,” said Damba, and then, “Oh, oh. Trouble ahead.”

He secured the leads of the pack horse to his saddle.

Nandzi noticed the concern in his voice and raised her head. In the distance, ahead and across to the left, a figure approached them on foot along one of the raised pathways. She recognised Itsho's familiar form.

“Itsho,” she called, but the light breeze carried her voice away.

Damba said, “Shut your mouth.”

He brought his bow from his back and pulled an arrow from his quiver. At the pace they were moving, their path would cross Itsho's. Nandzi raised her head again. Itsho had seen them and halted in his tracks. He, too, had his bow at the ready.

“Itsho, Itsho!” she screamed again.

This time he heard his name called.

“It is me, Nandzi,” she called. “Run, run for help. The Bedagbam kidnapped me. They are many. On horses. Run, run or this one will shoot you.”

Itsho hesitated. Then, slowly, uncertainly, he moved back the way he had come, watching them, keeping just out of range.

“Nandzi,” he called back. “Is that you?”

Nandzi repeated her warning.

Damba shortened her horse's lead, bringing her closer so that he could pummel her on the back with his free fist, crying “Shut up, shut up!”

Knowing that Damba did not understand their language, she called again to Itsho, who had had second thoughts about fleeing and was again approaching them.

“Itsho, keep clear. It is too dangerous. Run. Get help. Follow our trail. Catch us in the night.”

Damba reached down fiercely and placed his hand over her mouth. Then she remembered Nowu. She sank her teeth into a finger. With a curse he snatched his hand away.