The slaves of Freetown

CHAPTER TWO

On the way back to Brownsville, it is no longer raining, but I feel tingling on the right side of my face like invisible, burning drops of water. My eyelids wrinkled, I can no longer see much from my right eye and try with the left one to guess the outline of my Mistress' round silhouette. She walks quickly in front of me, pinching her nose, her purse and umbrella swaying by her side.

Each time one of her packages escapes from me, she turns to gratify me with a scornful smile. Mistress Salvi never puts her hand on me, but I can feel the satisfaction, like every time it occurs, which she got from that Master. He asked her permission to keep beating me.

From the Avenue of the Americas, we take the subway towards Brooklyn, and I meet some of my fellows. Arrived with the third and most recent vague of North Korean slaves — a gift from Kim Jong-un to Trump's government, to honor the nuclear deal sealed after their first meeting —, the very young Chul seems upset and unable to understand what her Master is trying to tell her. She and her brother Min-Ho look exhausted, lifting boxes for his Weekmistress.

It is no better for old Priyanka, who, because of her back pain, has a hard time standing behind her little Mistress' German shepherd. But Priyanka often appears depressed; everything in her physiognomy always gives the impression of a sudden and violent threat of covidic crisis. As if her body gave up on appearances and stigmatization. But it is not bravery, just resignation. Her face contorts, her eyes roll back, her fits tighten, waiting for the unpleasant, too familiar feeling to disperse. I hold my breath and then exhale along with her. It becomes tough to fight a covidic crisis by the end of the week. My focus moves towards the direction from where a coughing fit, followed by injurious remarks and disgusted looks from the Masters' compartment, makes Melisizwe fold in half.

Melisizwe, our utterly affectionate, South African slave, who pretends to be directly related to Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela Freeman, is now being scolded by his Weekmaster for this shameful and public confession of infirmity. He also came to the United States of America through bilateral agreements between two supporter-of-slavery countries. Apart from the celebration of the numerous bilateral treaties that were sealed between the United States of America and other slave-owning nations, it was above all to congratulate the Americans for their recent performance during the slaves Olympic Games. Vladimir Putin's Russia, Xi Jinping's China, Emmanuel Macron's France, among others, had contributed to the arrival of thousand International slaves to America as gifts to the nation.

In just a few hours, it will be Sunday, and for a day, we will not be Objects anymore. We will be able to go about our business in a restricted class of interests before a Mistress or Master is assigned to us for the week to come. Our life as slaves is punctuated by the rotation to which the government subjects us. Being state properties and common goods of the nation, we are the responsibility of all citizens who share the duty of our maintenance. Therefore, each week, a certain number of Masters are asked to welcome us into their home for a few days. Sunday is our resting day, but until "00:01" appears on her watch, Mistress Salvi takes pleasure in watching me being heckled, at the bottom of the subway, in the slaves' compartment. Since what happened to Rosa Parks, no slave dares to sit in the citizens' compartment in any of the segregationist nations of this planet. That was the scope of her punishment, shown as an example.

There are also two other slaves who I do not recognize and who are standing next to me, also carrying heavy bags. They both look at me, insistent and compelling me to get out of my timidity wall. Reflecting on Mohamed's words, my hands forming our community's acronym, I greet them according to our beliefs and culture. The older man answers by tilting his head, and the girl smiles at me, clumsily imitating my gesture. The little finger, the index, and the thumb of her right hand are placed on her left one, whose same fingers are raised, thus forming the letters "E" and "S" for "Elected Slave."