“Pearl Waters”

Amadi winced as the oozing blisters on the bottom of his soiled feet scraped against the uneven wooden steps on the swaying boat. He leaned his limp, slender body forward to help propel his tired muscles up the path. His dull, brown eyes had become so well-adjusted to the deep darkness below the deck that the warmth and brightness of the sun only scorched his eyes. His cracked lips trembled, and he slumped forward but refused to emit a sound.

He heaved deeply and used every ounce of his remaining strength to progress on as some odd weight bore down heavier than usual on the rusty chains. He could hear several waves and hiccups of long, sorrowful moans coming from behind him. He creaked his head around just a tad, taking care not to cut himself any more on the ill-fitting thick shackle around his neck, and peeked with one eye, but he quickly turned back around and grimaced. The priestess from the neighboring village laid in a fragile, bony pile behind him with flies swirling feverishly around and above her glazed-over yellowish eyes and mouth agape. Her liquefied excrements had splashed along the sides of her peeling, stick-like legs and feet.

“She’s home with us now,” a soothing, gentle voice the texture of honey whispered close to his ear. He looked up at the tall, curvy woman of creamy chestnut hue. She had kinky, black hair adorned with cowrie shells and seaweed that were curated into beautiful, neat Bantu knots. She wore thick, gold bracelets and anklets, and she had large, iridescent pearl earrings that swayed lazily from her pointy ears. She was the epitome of beauty and Amadi knew exactly who she was.

“Mami,” his scratchy voice croaked. His squinty eyes had instantly widened at the sight of her since it was the very first time in his life that he had seen her. He believed in her as he had always listened to the stories about her from his parents and elders. He even remembered hearing her voice once when he almost drowned as a child at a local beach, but he had never been graced with her appearance before.

A few of the others around him uttered gasps when they heard him speak the name. “Mami? She’s here? They’re here? Where are they?”

The crackle from a whip sliced the air with an explosive pop. The foreigners were yelling something in their language that Amadi could not understand. Even if he did speak their language, he was too transfixed on one of the Queen Mother of the Seas to care.

She gazed at him with velvety yet firm attention. In Amadi’s head, he heard the words, “Do not talk to me out loud, my son. You will only draw more attention to yourself.”

Amadi was grateful for this as his throat felt as dry and irritable as heated sandpaper.  “What is happening, Mami?” he thought.

Her dark, haunting eyes then focused a fiery glare on the foreigners, and she sighed deeply. “I’m afraid that this is going to be a terrible time for the homeland. This will be a time that will change history for centuries to come.” She looked back at him and tenderly touched the long, thin scars etched on the side of his face. “They will kidnap many of you and take you to stolen lands.”

Light-headed and dizzy, he swayed as he peered ahead of him. One of the foreigners with dark, brunette hair and a scruffy beard had took off his wide-brimmed hat and rolled up his sleeves. He stirred the usual pot of horse beans and rice and slapped a portion in a small child’s quivering, waiting hands. The child quickly scooped the mush to his mouth and licked feverishly on his bloody fingers as his mother held his shoulders protectively against the shackles on her wrist.

The foreigner with the whip, who was tall and broad shouldered with a head full of curly red hair, eyed the boy’s mother with a lustful gaze. His eyes continuously traveled up and down her naked body, sore-infested but equipped with plump buttocks and full breasts. The mother leaned her son in closer to her and peered straight ahead. Amadi could not hear her, but he could tell by the way her mouth snarled and moved that she was chanting and eliciting for vengeance. The son had noticed the foreigner’s stare and looked up fearfully at his mother.

“Will you help us?” Amadi pleaded. “Please?”

Mami averted her eyes, cocked her head to the side, and looked out into the ocean’s waves. Amadi averted his eyes, too, as he already knew the answer.

“I am always here with you, Amadi. Remember that water has no enemy.”

Amadi looked back towards her as renewed hope slowly invigorated his aching body.

Mami smiled in a such a glorious and divine way that he was briefly blinded to all else that was occurring. “Come home with me. Come home with me and my family because we still have plenty of room.”

Suddenly, a scream from the mother ripped violently through the air as she struggled ferociously with the red-haired foreigner. Her son had jumped on his back and attempted to kick at his sides with his shackles, but the foreigner dueling out the meals had punched him in the back of the head, knocking the wind out of him. Grimacing as he stared down at the child, he then slowly raised his leg, then rammed it down on the child’s head again. And again. The other one with red hair clutched the woman from behind and carried her away while she kicked her legs rapidly in the air and incessantly wailed the rest of the way.

“Your parents are already there,” she ventured further. “Many of your friends and the elders are all with us as well.”

Amadi could feel the last of his energy fading from his body. He was not hungry or thirsty as his body had not been accepting any of the mush for what seemed like days now. There were many open wounds on his body that just did not seem to heal anymore. He regarded her silently, contemplating, and Mami continued to hold his gaze with her ancient own as she slowly faded away completely.

Amadi’s legs began to feel very heavy and burdensome, and he dropped down on the floor of the boat. The man in front of him, a tall, dark-skinned and muscular blacksmith that he had seen around the village, looked back at him and peered at him empathically. “Get up, “ he whispered, “don’t give up yet”. Amadi fluttered his eyes and attempted to steady himself with one head, but the strength was not enough. The blacksmith attempted to stoop down to give him a hand, but the brunette foreigner was already advancing toward him and yelling in his incomprehensible language. The foreigner stood over him and regarded him for a moment with disdain, then he turned away. Amadi’s vision was marked with large, round colorful dots that was difficult to see out of, but he could see enough to watch the foreigner as he went and picked up the body of the priestess from a neighboring village. Then, he returned for the child, who’s innocence and beauty was still in full display despite his misshapen and bloody head. He watched as he walked with a steady and determined pace to edge of the boat, his heavy boots clinking against the wood with each step, and tossed them over the edge. And he stood and watched over the edge for a moment each time, tilting his head down with his arms resting along the side while grinning with eyes widened and delighted, as if he had just heard the most hilarious joke. Then, he turned around and walked toward him.

As he advanced toward him, the red-haired foreigner, who was returning from the bottom of his ship without the mother, but while zipping up his pants, looked around and honed in on the brunette foreigner. The red-haired man looked confused, and he said something to the other as the man began to loosen his shackles. He wanted to muster his energy to fight back. To punch him in the face and wrap the shackles around his neck until his body began to turn cold. He wanted to free the blacksmith and protect the grieving mother. He wanted to lead the overthrow of the foreigners and take over the boat, but he began to lose consciousness. And he then found himself floating. Floating in a pitch-black sea with a cacophony of incomprehensible voices in the background. They seemed to be at odds with each other, as they seemed to interrupt each other with growls and sharp, high-pitched yelps, and banter.

Amadi felt himself falling, weightless and freely. Then, a quick, but brutally painful, watery surface knocked the last of his breath out of him. Sharks had been menacingly circling the ship, as they had grown accustomed to the incessant supply of blood that seeped from injured bodies that fell from it on a daily basis. Badly cut and bruised, they torpedoed through the waters for a chance to taste his essence. The sharks tore hungrily into Amadi’s stomach and legs and ripped the flesh from his bones as easily as paper. Amadi’s was enveloped in a pain so torturous and unbearable that he was unable to scream. His mouth hung open and his eyes glazed over as the sharks feasted on his body. And everything faded to black.

Then, a feast of ethereal colors and sounds filled Amadi’s senses. Amadi could see Mami and a plethora of others with long, iridescent serpentine and fish-scale tails, adorned in beautiful jewelry and regalia, swirling around him in all of their otherworldly and magnificent glory, celebrating his arrival with their trumpets and horns. They twirled rapidly around him and embraced him lovingly, gesturing toward their underwater city with roads paved in dazzling gold, silver, and pearls. He looked down and saw where his arms and part of his stomach, which had been torn off, were beginning to magically regenerate. The nubs of his legs that also remained were gluing themselves against each other while a scaly, white substance began to form all over them. There was no pain, and the blisters and open sores were also dissipating.

The child and the priestess from the neighboring village were present as well. They were looking around with huge grins on their faces, bewildered yet excited about their new environment. They were still in the midst of their transformations as well, and their bloody, torn bodies were regenerating into full, healthy brown upper bodies with beautiful white, serpentine tails. Amadi then peered beyond them, and he saw his parents waving enthusiastically from in front of their beautiful seashell-woven home. As he grinned from ear from ear and waved back, he heard Mami and the others in his head advise that more were soon on their way to the celebration from other ships. He twirled in the waters with his beautiful, newly formed-tail, and he glided toward them without a care in the world.