I called her Nandi E Morrison 1-2-3-4-5

Strife

I only saw the glint of the weapon, in reflex my spear went up to block the strike as I move aside to get my body out of danger, the sword cut my spear in two the, top half falling to the ground, I was slow, she turned pushing off one foot, coming at me, the sword held by her right hand pointed left slicing through the air towards my head, I knelt as my body bent backward I felt a foot run over my chest, then again she turned, I lifted my body thrusting myself forward on my stomach the rolled over to see the sword embedded in the ground where my heart would have been just moments ago, the strange warrior on one knee, eyes downcast, still again, if she come at me now, I am certain to die, "there is no honour in serving the degenerates, one more kill and my debt would be paid he said, I kill too many more than was agreed on that is why that over fed hog a slave trader, now he is one of dead, I serve him tea while he talked business with my husband, he just assume my husband was the sword wielder and that he is to some extent, but I am my father's daughter, I ran away with and marry against my parents will for  my husband was a servant in my house, I was to marry a title that matched my father's, so we made deal with the outsider, killing service for secret safe passage, last night I made tea as the swine, this man of many Europe blood he would speak all six or seven of the Europe speech, tongue, all high quality people he would boast, he asked for my service in his bed, ill manners and disregard to me and my husband", her voice trembled with rage"and so I killed him."

The sword fighter stood, "I will make this swift, fulfill my last contract."
I closed my eyes and felt a force went out of me, it was quiet too long and I should have been dead by now, the sword warrior spoke her voice low and full of  reverence "old one, let me finish."
"No!" Opening my eyes I saw standing between me and the sword warrior was the Africa warrior goddess, I stood, amazed that the sword fighter recognized the old one.
"You do not have enough of a bond with this foreign soil, to stop me old one."
"And you young hawk, do not have here access to your ice element." The foreigner's speech, what was babble to me, the old one understood.
"Still I can go through you" the sword warrior rushed forward, the warrior goddess side step the thrust then slam her hand into the armoured chest of the sword warrior who staggered backwards at the impact, "your task young hawk is complete" the sword warrior took a step back, bowed sharply then turned to leave, then over her shoulder she said "the ships that come in the distance are loaded with arms" then she was gone.

"My energy is weakening" the goddess spoke urgently "chant with me" I did not speak I knelt as she did, she raised both hands skywards and begins a chant, I imitated the sound and the beating of drums came upon the whisper of the wind, I heard thunder in the distant direction of the sea, and when I heard the the lightning strike, I look to the warrior goddess and she was fading "my spirit answered the call of the homeland" she was gone, as explosions errupted far out on the sea, only the smoke I could see,"I see she has done some damage" that was the sound of Nandi's voice, I look around but I was alone.

"How many generation, to be sacrificed before a people live?" Nandi spoke to them who want her surrender "you burn we, balls a fire tear we in apieces, we free here, we land, leave we, to our peace."
"We do good to our slave, you are fed, sheltered and clothed, what more could you need, this land could be cleared and put to proper use" said the white man," I heard Nandi "then we no stop fight, I rather go with no clothe, than forced and beaten to wrap cloth, band our belly and blood and plow, scrub and plant, to take you white idea, we will make of our shelter, plant our food, reap all when able, tell the crown."

In the waiting hours, I sometimes watched the Spanish-Moor and my brother argue and quietly insult each other, "I want to be mighty rich than you Moor, own more slaves than you" said my brother, the Moor answered "there is nothing more distressing than lazy wrapped up in bed smelling of brew or sitting in offices counting human heads as cattle while a woman kneel at his feet scrubbing the floor" my brother riled "dat what black woman made to do" the Spanish- Moor, irritated, "all women bleed, gets tired and have beauty, if you ask me the black tone is a beauty advantage not a mishap as you seem to think" and it would break my heart when my brother say "a black woman is not pretty as the white, the white women hair are long soft and silky like them skin, black women hair and skin, coarse" the Moor temper heighten "and what do you suppose, you addle brained prick,a white woman would look and feel like if they slaved away all day under scorching sun, and yes there are some poor white women in their own country the greater percentage, in fact, who do not own people and are not spoiled, they are not smooth at all," he shook his head, a signaling his impatience "however glamour can mask the ugliness of sin for only a time. What manner of men torture others into submission, monsters that I've seen within my own family" his voice cracked with pain."And to submit to what, degradation, you should be denouncing this evil, instead you talk to enforce what was done to you, on others, onto your own people?"

My brother angrily, "I want what you have." The Spanish-Moor look into the distance,"I do not own slaves, my father does, my property is small, a property brought with a half of a small sum left to me by my mother's father, the men I brought I set free with a small area of land so they may feed themselves, I trade goods with this new village for food.
As one of the children of the land greedy power mad lords and wigs and power hungry, grasping ladies in frills. Not all of us live debauched lives, whoring, circling the clubs, gambling and the usage, of opium in the private rooms,instigated, inveigled(?) by a pusher who coerce young gentlemen mature by number in years of age but mentally weak, child-like and susceptible to suggestion, pups out to prove their coming into majority, who then brutalize slaves to produce more to get one's self out of the dun and dissipation, it is inhumanity to impose harmful things and habits on another. Even inside the gentry one can find himself banish to the fringes for disagreeing and have a different percept of those of the wealthy and powerful, one is expected to fall in line even with glorified royal rubbish." And I had to smile when my brother's laugh echoed from his powerful chest.