The Black Girl

Chapter Two: Escape, Failure and The Commander

Chapter Two

Escape, failure and The Commander

Their they stood, un-moving with masks of utter surprise and astonishment plastered on their faces. With every new person that jointed the rapidly growing congregation that stood before Melarnie more gales of disgust and absolute distaste were thrown in her direction. 

 "Kwa nini wao kuangalia saa yangu"? Malarnie asked .Why do you look at me?

They continued to stare, their white faces blanketed with un-moving glares of disgust. A youngman  stepped forward, his chest covered in a tailored white shirt but his skin did not resemble that of the surrounding melee. His skin was as dark as the earth he stood upon. 

"Wala kuwa na wasiwasi, hawawezi kukudhuru". Do not be alarmed, they will not harm you,  he hurriedly reassured Malarnie, reaching his leather coloured hand in comfort in her direction - his accent unmistakable. Melarnie was not so sure of that, her heart told her to run but her brain said they would just catch her again, bring her back here and put her in chains. Better to stay on their safe side untill she figured out which side she was on.

The black man was more like a boy, on older than 17. Hiis hands did not look ruff or worn, like that of boys in Malarnie's village, but as smooth and silky as any white mans hands. His face remained free of wrinkles, but his eyes held concern and deep apology for what these men had done to her. 

"Kukaa mbali, stay away", Melarnie almost shouted, putting her hand up and waving him away. He stopped mid stride and stayed silent as if waiting for Melarnie to make her mind of what she wanted. The crowed of people backed away, scared of the girl who was not that very different from then. Only language and skin seperating them, but even so they treated Malarnie with a hostility that would rival that of any feuding countries. 

Why does he want to deafened them, they probably kidnapped him and took him away from his tribe much the same as they had done to her- she thought. They were heartless and cared for no one more than their own kind, helped no others but light skins and aided no one but their closest allies. As their disapproving glares speared into her skin, Melarnie looked away, wanting this all to be a bad dream, wanting this all to disappear when she awoke, but that would not happened and deep down she knew that. 

"I Si amini wewe, I do not believe you-wao alichukua mimi mbali na familia yangu na akanileta hapa mahali sitaki kuwa"; they took me away from my family and brought me here to a place I do not want to be.

The pleading tone of Melarine's voice caused a handful of the villages to show sympathy on their ivory faces, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. Some turned away not wanting to know of what developed of this interaction, the crowd thinning slightly. The boy still remained silent,  although he began to retreat,  step by step back into the dust sudden melee of people that still looked on as if expecting something to happen. When the settlement fell into eclipse  of silence their hopefull glares became glares of disgust and disappointment. 

Melarnie had now begun to disifer their common and repetitive comments; the majority of then meaning words of hurtfully origin, some being questions of why she was here and others being statements of sympathy. As a young girl there had been kind hearted white people that had come to her village and tought her people their way of life. They had introduced them to concepts such as God, clothing, and their way of thir tongue. But the village elders had disaproved of these people and had sent them away. Although it had been years, in the back of her mind there still lingered memories of those language lessons in the bright afternoon sun, and the small hut that the white people had built to honor their God. That was now all gone, but she remembered some of their way of tongue.