Before Abdul Died
He was born in the East of Africa, enslaved to the north. Finally lived as a free man in the west.
Abdul woke up from his slumber when it was nearly evening. He struggled to get up. His head was not feeling good. He stood for a while, looked around, and saw his bundle. The leather bag filled with water was there. He picked it up and sat down and drank some water. He felt better. He searched and found some dates. He ate a few, waited, and had a drink of water again. He kept sitting until his body felt strong. He got up and started to walk back towards his hut.
When he reached it, the sky was getting dark. He lit the fire and sat there. He had cooked some food before going in the morning. It lay in front of him. He did not have any desire to eat. He gazed at the fire; his mind was blank for some time. Slowly, it all came back to him.
He felt the pain of losing Musa. It was the second time in his life he had become fond of someone. He had brought up Musa from a small child. He never said it, but he liked the boy like his own son. He was a Coromatee, who were in themselves very brave and strong and true to their groups. He thought of Bushra, his mother and father, and finally Musa. Before this, he had not named anything, Musa was the only one he had brought up. He thought if he had not picked up the fainted child when returning from the forest, he would not have had to care for him, and finally, he would not have developed love because of the little boy’s innocence. Only after a few months he had felt the boy to be something that was his own. He had cared for and protected the boy from anything that could bring harm. He realized that he had always had the feeling of being with his son whenever Musa was there. After some time, he remembered his father and master teaching him important things of life. He had taught the child everything that was needed to survive. In the process of teaching, he had been harsh also. Musa had become another part of himself. He regretted not teaching Musa to be alert to his own protection even if his companion or fellow soldier was being injured or hurt. Ali, the sultan’s general, had taught him that. One could only protect another by first protecting oneself. He understood that learning and teaching was a long process; perhaps he had not had Musa long enough to teach him.
He kept feeling bad for many days. He knew Musa would go away across the sea if he remained alive. His master had told him to pray for anyone whom he wanted to be well or to do well in life, as there was little more he can do. When one did not have the means to fight, one should not fight; it would be like willingly killing oneself. Abdul did not go away from the hut for many days.
He finally started in trips to the jungle. One day in the evening, he sat by the fire, as it had started to become cold. Two men from the nearby village arrived and asked him to come with them, as the village chief had been injured. He asked the details of how he was injured and considered what he would need. He carried a few medicines wrapped in a cloth, took his stick, and went with them.
The village was large; it had about three hundred people. He did what he had to and told them he was leaving. The chief urged him to stay the night, eat with him and rest, and go in the morning. Abdul said he needed to go, as he had work early in the morning. The chief gave him some money and told two of his people to go with him and accompany him through the jungle.
They started with one of them leading the way with a torch in hand, as it was nearing the new moon and was dark. There was wind blowing; it blew out the torch. Not finding something to light it again, they walked slowly. The one who was leading suggested they go back, as the jungle was full of snakes and scorpions. Abdul listened to him and said yes. They started to return. They had only walked a little ways when Abdul felt he had stepped on something alive. He pulled back his foot very quickly and lifted it high. A snake turned and bit him on his foot before he could withdraw it in time.
He clearly understood that he had not remained as agile as he had once been. He was still alert in his mind, though; he remembered what he must do. He sat down and pulled out the small knife he had been given by Ali. He cut the exact place of the snakebite, even in the dark. He was in pain but knew that the poison could only be taken out with the blood when he bled. He also took out a rope from his waist and tied it around his ankle as tightly as possible. Then he asked the men to carry him to the village and made them understand that any movement of his leg would spread the poison rapidly.
They carried him to the front of the chief’s hut. There were torches burning. Abdul asked them to lay him on the ground near a torch. He looked at the wound. Taking his knife, he asked one of them to heat it on the torch and give it back to him. When the man handed it back, Abdul wiped the soot off on his waist cloth. Then he cut the wound properly and asked the men to get a fine but strong rope.
The chief got word and came out limping. The men brought the rope. Abdul tied it below his knee to stop any poison that might have escaped and tied one on his thigh. He asked the men to help with the rope on the thigh. He asked for water. After drinking, he talked with the chief. After some time, realizing that the poison had escaped the ropes, he said to the chief, “If I die, bury me and send someone to my hut. There is a wooden box there. Please get it. Also buried under the box are a sword and a few gold pieces that I received for his services. You could keep them. The box has some small weapons which also you can keep. The other things — if someone wants to use them, give them to him, or bury them with me.”
Abdul remembered all parts of his life in that one moment. He remembered his mother, his father, his captors, his master, Zargam, Bushra, the sultan, and all the others. All their faces raced in his memory, and he saw them all clearly in the same moment. He also remembered that his mother and father had given him the name “Sironka” he remembered it meant the pure one. Last he remembered being born a Masai, traveling to the maghreb, and raising a coromantee boy. Abdul slowly closed his eyes.
It was fortunate that the chief was also a Muslim, and he gave Abdul a burial he deserved.
Thank you for reading. Please leave your thought in the comments for me to understand what more I need to do, to make it a better experience. I must thank Dr. Mehemet Yildiz, Carol Price, Terry L. Cooper and the other editors for kindly publishing my work on The ILLUMINATION group of publications
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