Drum (4 page)

During the latter part of their day's journey, the whole aspect of the land had changed. It was no longer hot and sunburned, with dusty trails, parched grass, stunted tamarisk and thorn, but violently green, dark and miasmic. The trail changed from dust which rose like a cloud and settled on their bodies to oozy mud which spurted between their toes. The fierce blaze of the sun was lost, strained through a thick canopy of leaves overhead, and the hanging lianas were arm-thick, like immense snakes hanging straight down from the lofty trees. Only rarely did they see a splotch of sky and then it disappeared as something glimpsed briefly from the bottom of a well whose sides were damply green and unwholesome. The hot steamy stillness was oppressive; the eerie quietness was enhanced rather than disturbed by the chattering of parrots in the branches above and the humming of thousands of insects below. A sooty cloud of gnats and midges like the smoke of a campfire of green wood followed them, settling on their faces and bodies until their skin crawled with a fluttering, devouring life that bit into it, inflamed their eyelids, crawled deep inside their ears and nostrils and even into their mouths, so that when they swallowed, their spit was grained with insects. With their hands bound to the bamboo rings, they were helpless to do anything but walk on, on, on, forever in time to the metronomic

beat of the drum which had now become a part of themselves.

There were a few women in the rear of the caffle—all young, some pregnant and others carrying children in their arms. Whatever their condition, they were forced to keep up with the men, and when one woman, heavy with child, met her time along the road, the column halted only long enough for her to be cut out of the line. For a few moments she groveled in the slime, arching her swollen body with high-pitched moans until the knife of the flat-faced Akeem slashed at her throat and her spasms stopped. Again his knife slashed, this time at her belly and the child was laid bare. He nipped the cord with his teeth and handed the baby to a woman who was toting her own infant, relieving her of it and handing it to an unencumbered female. The mother reached for the newborn baby, examined its sex and when she found it was a boy, put it to her breast. The whole episode had taken only a short time. The caflle was retied, the corpse already thick with insects was abandoned, and they were on their way again.

Ama-jallah had kept to his schedule. Now there were calls in the near distance, and the sound of water. The Arab rode on ahead, soon to return and whip the long line of the caffle into a quicker step. They were almost trotting when they arrived at a clearing by the side of the river where a sand spit ran out into the water. Black against the yellow sand were lined the canoes—the big wooden canoes that required twelve men to paddle each one. Tamboura could not count beyond the fingers of both hands but he could see that there were more canoes than he had fingers.

Akeem and his helpers quickly untied the hands of the slaves from the bamboo hoops, which were then piled high , over a stake to await the return of Ama-jallah. After that the grass ropes were removed and they were free except for the rope which led from neck to neck. More food was awaiting them and this time it was not even put on a leaf. Instead they held out their cupped hands to receive it, and slobbered it into their mouths like animals. But more welcome even than the food was the water, which was plentiful and clean. They were led out on the sand spit and allowed to lie flat on their bellies and drink as much as they wanted. It was warm and tasted of mud but it was clean and refreshing. Then they were made to squat ankle-deep in water and relieve themselves if they could.

The whips stood them on their feet again and the Kru canoe boys, who had been awaiting their arrival, walked down the long straggling line of the caffle, counting on their fingers. When they had counted off both hands three times, they cut the neck-binding rope and marched their thirty men off to a waiting canoe. Although the canoes were large enough to accommodate twelve paddlers, it was a tight squeeze to force thirty men into such a limited space. The end man in the line was whipped into the canoe after it had been shoved off into deep water. He was boosted over the side and held down with his legs spread wide apart. The next man climbed in and was pushed up as closely to the first man as possible, his buttocks grinding against the other's groin, his elbows resting on the other's knees. And so it went, one after another, until the canoe was packed tightly with men, buttock to groin, each immovable from the hips down. Now, for the first time, the metal accouterments of slavery appeared. A light chain was run along the gunwales of the canoe and handcuffs of iron were spaced along the chain, snapped over the wrists of the slaves and locked, thus immobilizing hands and arms as well as legs and feet. From the loaded canoe, a strong rope ran to another canoe which accommodated the Krus and a certain amount of baggage. One by one the canoes were loaded, and they started off down the river.

The whole operation was managed with the utmost economy of motion. The Krus were experts at their trade. They constantly plied the river from its delta to various spots which were used as rendezvous for overland caravans, meeting them and taking the slave caffle down to the various factories on the shore, then returning with the trade goods and meeting another caravan.

Night came quickly with an impenetrable blackness through which neither moon nor stars could be seen. With the night came hordes of mosquitoes, and now Tamboura began to be glad for what little was left of his clay anointing of the night before and for the mud which had hardened on his back after the brief rest when he had stretched out full length on the earth during the childbirth. He was seated between Sabumbo and the young slave who had grinned at him, somewhere in the middle of the canoe. With hands and feet both immobilized there was no way to ward the insects off, but by leaning forward and brushing his head against Sabumbo's back, he could rid his brother of some of

the pests, and he was grateful for the almost metallic scraping of the hair of the man behind him on his own back.

After an hour, every muscle in his body cried out for re- i lief. As the interminable night wore on, Tamboura found i some relief by leaning forward and resting his head on i Sabumbo's shoulders and then, when aching muscles began i to cramp in this position, he leaned back and rested his \ head on the chest of the fellow behind him, whose name he i discovered to be M'dong. He felt closer to Sabumbo, however, ; because of their common background, and each found that i talking helped to pass the long sleepless hours of the ; night. It kept up their spirits and quieted their unknown fears. ■

"As for myself, I do not mind, Tamboura," Sabumbo ad- i mitted. "Life in the village held nothing for me after my father and mother died. I went to live with my uncle and i from that day on I planned to get away even if it meant i taking a woman from another village and being a slave to her family, because I had no goods with which to pay her bride-price. The old man and the old woman didn't want me, although she was never unkind to me when I was a kid. After I became a hunter, she died and then the old man began to get jealous because the girls wanted me and not one of them would go into the bushes with him after the dances."

"You can't blame them," Tamboura said. "He was too ugly and too old."

"Too old and too limp," Sabumbo laughed. "But he got the idea that Kanili could put new strength into him. He had the witch doctor working over him for nights at a time, feeding him pepper broth and dancing around the hut until at last—I don't know if it was the spirits or the pepper broth— he managed to be a man again. Then he started to look around for a new wife but not a girl or woman in the village would have him. So he went over to Bingtu and found a young girl whose father's eyes opened wide when my uncle promised him three bolts of cloth, two trade kettles and a gourdful of bugle beads."

"And where did your uncle think he would get all that wealth?" Tamboura was familiar with his reputation as the poorest and the stingiest man in the whole village.

"The old fellow had the gift of tongues and he soft-talked them into it with promises." Sabumbo's head was on Tamboura's chest and he shook it violently to dislodge the mosquitoes. "The old fellow was not so stupid after all and it

was not all soft-talking because he knew I would fetch that amount when the next slave caffle came along. Not only would he get the goods to buy his new wife but he would get rid of me at the same time."

"Did you know?" Tamboura shifted one leg and managed to stretch a muscle. He sighed with relief.

"No, but what good would it have done me? I had no way to escape except to the camp of the renegades, and believe me, their life is worse than a slave's. They have no women in their camp except some worthless wretches they capture by raiding a village and they wear them out in a week. So I stayed on but it was even worse when he brought this woman back to the hut. You never saw her because you were away from the village in the camp of the boys. She was young with a soft, smooth body. Well! You know what happened."

Tamboura thought for a moment. "No."

Sabumbo laughed. "Every night after my uncle had sweated and groaned and worked over her for a long time without accomplishing anything, he would be so tired out, he'd fall off to sleep, and then she'd crawl over to my mat. Believe me, after what I'd been listening to, I was standing as straight, and strong as my own spirit pole—ready and waiting for her. And after what she'd been through she was ready for all I had to give her. So she got knocked up and the old man went all around the village, crowing like a cock and saying now he could prove that he had regained his youth. Everybody was laughing at him behind his back. They all knew I was the one who had done it. One day somebody told him as much, and then. . . . Well, that's why I'm here."

Tamboura felt the flame of hot anger searing him again at the thought of Sabumbo's betrayal and his by their own people.

"This isn't too good but it won't be too bad either," Sabumbo said, as if he had read Tamboura's thoughts. "We go down the river and then we get on a big canoe, so big that there are no paddles but it has white wings like a bird. I've heard tell about it. Then that big canoe takes us to another world where all a man has to do is to raise children from more women than there are leaves on a tree. He can eat and sleep all day and take on a stready stream of women all night. That's the life I want. It's better than staying in our little village and having nothing but my uncle's wife and a girl once a full moon after the dances. I'd never have goods to buy a wife of my own."

There was a long silence while Tamboura turned the prospects over in his mind. What had he back in the village? It was his home, yes. But what kind of a home would it be in his brother's hut with the three of them always against him? True, some day he would be king but that might be a long time away. Mandouma was still young and he was not brave like the other brothers. He never took chances in hunting or on slaving exjjeditions to faraway villages. Maybe I am better off, Tamboura thought. The picture Sabumbo painted of an endless stream of women every night was certainly appealing. But ... his heart sank. No matter how many women there were, he would not be able to do anything with them. He was still uncut and . . . unclean.

He sighed deeply. "It will be all right for you, Sabumbo, my brother, and it would have been all right for me if they had but waited another day and I could have become a man. Now, as long as I live, no woman will ever have me."

"You speak stupid words, my brother. Stupid words! In our little village, you could not have had a woman had you stayed there as you are now, but our custom does not extend to all the villages in Africa or even to all the Hausas. Tis said that our custom came from the filthy Arabs, like the one that has us now. No, my brother, believe me, in some villages you would not be able to have a woman if you were cut."

"He speaks the truth, boy." M'dong had been listening to the conversation and joined in. "In my village, which is many days' walk from yours, we do not have the custom. Once a man who was cut like that was captured by our hunters and brought to the village. Our women saw him and tore him to pieces. They said he was not only unclean but incomplete. Do not let it bother you. I have had plenty of women, sometimes ten in a night. So too will you."

"Is that true, Sabumbo?" Tamboura felt a great joy that wiped out all his weariness and pain. "Is it true what M'dong says?"

"It is, Tamboura, it is."

"I swear it by my spirit," M'dong answered. " 'Tis said that women prefer a man who is uncut and also that a man gets more pleasure."

"Then I shall go with you willingly, Sabumbo. We shall see that other land you speak of and together we shall sire thousands of children. I have no regrets about leaving the "illage." He hesitated. "Well, just one."

f "And what is that, my brother?"

"I was thinking of Iba, the daughter of Layoumba. Do you remember her?"

"The little bitch with the pointed tits?" Sabumbo laughed.

"The same."

"Then have no regret." Sabumbo laughed again and this time Tamboura could feel the contractions in Sabumbo's body against his chest. "Of all the girls in the village, she was the poorest and the most worthless."

"You have had her?"

"Once I tried and I never chose her again. You have missed nothing there. She lets a man do nothing at all and if he tries, she squeals and whines and fights back until he loses all desire. All she wants to do is play with her fingers."

"I know the kind," M'dong confirmed Sabumbo's words. "Once in a while you'll find one like that."

"Then if what you say is true, Sabumbo, I go with not even one regret." Tamboura sat up straight. "Perhaps tomorrow we shall reach the big water and see the canoe with the white wings. It will take us out of this world to another where we shall sleep all day and lie with women all night. Now I am happy, Sabumbo."

"Then sleep, little brother." Sabumbo shifted his legs as much as possible, rolled his head into a more comfortable position on Tamboura's chest and became quiet. Tamboura did the same, turning his cheek against the warm, damp flesh of M'dong. They slept in spite of leg-ache and arm-ache and back-ache.