Out of Africa
This particular life was remembered spontaneously, but I didn’t have any glimpses or premonitions prior to the memory. The memory just came out one afternoon in the entirety.
This life was absolute perfection, until it was not.
We lived on the shore of the coast in East Africa. Approximate year: 1579.
My initial awareness of this life started as I drifted back into time and became aware of beautiful morning light streaming into a comfortable sleeping area, where I was just waking up. I stretched my arms out and noticed that I was native African, although they called us something else, I grabbed a shawl to wrap around my arms.
I was a young girl, perhaps 9 yrs. old. I left the area and walked down to a sandy shoreline; the golden sun was rising off to my left. I was drawn by the beauty of the surf and the sound of the waves. The colors were vibrant, deep blue and snowy white edges on the curling waves.
The sound of morning birds filled the air as they flew by. Towards my left was a small cove that had jungle growth nearly out to the shoreline. To my right, there was empty shore as far as my squinting eyes could see.
Two great pelicans soared by just above the water, I became aware of the chatter of activity and my attention was drawn behind me, I turned to view the village not far away. Organized activity seemed to be happening everywhere, and the fulfillment of communal tribal life lay before me, so calm and peaceful.
I relaxed and began to experience the memory. Each morning we would arise and begin seeking food, which was our main goal each day. Eggs from sea birds were always limited and a favorite. We generally ate two meals a day, a breakfast, and a mid-afternoon main meal. Usually, fruits and fish. Since I was nine I was old enough to have some level of responsibility within the Tribe.
I generally watched the small children and helped my mother when she needed me. It was my job to keep the young ones out of the waves. The tribe was communal in nature, sharing and experiencing all and each other, we all seemed to be connected by blood or love. The men generally would go out to sea fishing each day in their long canoes or in the shallows of the cove.
They would bring the catch back to certain women who were the typical cooks. Sometimes they would use big leaves to wrap the fish and put it on the open fire or bury it into the ground to cook. The cooks often added little bits of grasses, herbs, fruit, or tubers, for flavor.
These edibles were growing all around different areas near our village and they smelled wonderful when they were cooked. Some were used for cooking and others for medicines. An older woman was our resident medicine healer. She kept us all well. She was from a long line of healers. She knew just what to mix together for whatever ailed us.
The elder men of the tribe had chosen this location very wisely when they selected a new home for the village. It was a plentiful life full of happiness and joy.
I walked through the village marveling at how peaceful and loving the tribal members were. It seemed like there was no war or conflicts, and small groups gathered chattering, and helping one another, children chased each other around. My parents were memorable and wonderful. My Mother fixed my hair nicely and put a pretty flower in the side.
My father was the most magnificent man that I remember in any of my lives, so far. He was a tall, striking, perfect specimen of a man. He had excellent hunting skills, he was handsome and intelligent. He was responsible for the tribe, and he had a deep love of community and family. I fancied myself the apple of his eye, he made me feel like a princess.
I remember sitting on his warm lap with his long arms wrapped around me. I would put my ear to his chest to listen to his heart. I felt so loved. It was the best of times.
As young tribal children, we were all taught to listen to adults, to absolutely obey an adult, it could mean our lives or the life of others. If an adult instructed us to run or climb or some other act, we were to do it immediately without question. We had all seen the result of disobedience when a wild animal, or other predator, had attacked.
We had learned at times of danger; we were to run into the jungle to a specifically chosen tree and climb up it. We were to remain silent and wait until an adult signaled us to come down when everything was safe. This protected the village members and created safety for all. Each adult male member had a job that was based on his desires and abilities. Some were hunters, security, fishermen, builders, cooks. I stood marveling at the beauty of this small close-knit society.
On this beautiful spring morning I was awoke just before dawn to a great deal of noisy chatter and activity in the village. I peeked out of my sleeping area and noticed everybody was running to the shoreline and looking out to sea. They were looking off to the left into the blue and golden sunrise, with clouds drifting past in the distance, it seemed almost angelic.
I crept out and stood behind my father, peeking around to see what was happening. To the left in the distance, amidst the dawn light there were two specs on the horizon. Little tiny black specs. Everyone was speculating what it was. It was all agreed that it had to be big, very big for them to be seen from such a great distance.
As they drew closer my father began to yell for everyone to go into the jungle, the entire village. This had never happened before. The children were ordered into the jungle when needed, but never adults. We had our designated spots. But, adults, no. Fear ran through me. Something bad was happening. Something unknown to me was about to change my world.
On the shoreline, just past the waves were what looked like big canoes with billowing cloth. My father was yelling “run, run for your lives”. “Hide, waste no time” as he helped young and old seek refuge in the jungle. I did not know what a masted ship was in this child’s jungle life, but I did in my own current life and as I saw them arriving.
I knew.
I knew exactly what and who they were . . . slave ships.
Big slave ships.
As they approached, they towered above the shoreline, just past the waves, like a mammoth skyscraper. Instantly I knew they were predators. Portuguese. Death. They had seen the people and the village tribal members frantically run for safety.
Branches snapped as bodies raced through. I ran to my small safe spot in the trees. I performed my vow of silence that I had been taught time after time as a child. I waited with all the children for a signal that it was safe to come down.
I was peeking through the giant leaves as the great ships bobbed just beyond the surf. The big ships stayed out, and a smaller ship came to shore. It was loaded with lots of men, they had big knives. I had never seen such a big knife before. The metal shined in the morning light as they ran onto the shore.
I could smell the sailors on the wind, a horrible stench. It mixed with the purity of the sea breeze. The stench polluted my idyllic village.
I wanted to yell “Go away bad men, leave us in peace!
We have done nothing!
This is our home! Leave us!”
I could see that the village was vacant. Not a living thing moved, anywhere. The silence was deafening. The jungle seemed to stand still.
But the bad men knew that we were somewhere close. They had seen us from a distance while out to sea. When they arrived on the shore they formed a long single file line that wrapped around the village with the shoreline on one side. They began coming through the jungle beating on the trees and sadly they began to find our people, young and old.
Some brave men jumped out of their hiding spots to run to draw attention away from the women and children. But there was nowhere to run, and they were quickly captured by the bad men, all the men and women.
A rope was put around their neck, running down there back and around their waist holding their hands in the back. Then the rope ran to the next person so that they were all tied together. One by one the men were tied up.
Suddenly I saw they had my father, fear shattered through my tiny body. The bad men began finding the hiding women and gathered them up to be tied as well. I knew what I needed to do. I signaled to a dozen or so of the kids to follow me. I would lead them into the jungle until we could figure this out.
Quietly we made our escape into the jungle, not realizing that they had no interest in the children. The money would be made with healthy sellable adults. The parents had become cargo. Black, living cargo. I soon heard them screaming. It echoed in my ears.
Pain. Loss. Fear. All mixed together. We dashed through the jungle shrubs and trees away from the village, not looking back. When we finally stopped, I looked around at our straggly group of frightened youngsters between ages four and 10.
Tears flowed down our cheeks, but we made no sound. We had been trained well. I climbed up a tall tree that held a superior vantage point.
I watched as they began forcing the adults into the small ships and rowing them out to the big ship. The small ship made trips back and forth. The parents on shore had been sorted into different groups, but I did not understand the reasoning behind the choices.
Men and women began breaking their silence and screaming to be set free began to fill the air. They were screaming for their lives to be returned. Screaming for this day to stop and not happen. Screaming for their lost families and lives. It filled the air like a chaotic dream.
One by one they stood on the deck of the big ship and then one by one vanished and were gone into the belly of the ship. They did not come back out.
The small ship would return for more people, more of my family. I considered every village member to be my relative, aunt or uncle. We lived as a giant loving family here on the beautiful shoreline. The blue sky and surf looked so pure, and the big ship so black and evil, it bobbed in the surf as if it owned the entire sea.
I broke my silence and wailed. Fear finally overcame my young heart. I knew they were not coming back. My mind raced. My heart ached, I loved everyone so openly, so dearly. I realized I was vomiting onto the jungle floor.
I knew that life, as I knew it, was over. The sound of my own screams frightened me and echoed through the jungle.
When the final load of mommies was stowed below deck, the big ship began to move and prepare to depart. I descended the jungle roof and went back to our little tribe of tearful kids.
I reported what I had seen. We all cried together; arms entwined. The littlest kids shook with fear and I could do nothing for them, other than hold them close. We quietly sat on the jungle floor on the edge of the path. I grabbed some local fruit for the youngest kids, we would need our strength for what would happen next.
The jungle was silent, as if all life had left. In the distance a big banging sound started.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
We crept to the shoreline just in time to see an enormous anchor being pulled up the side of the big ship, then gradually the ship began to move forward in the blue sea. It was so big and ominously black. We could hear weeping from the distance from inside the belly of the ship, it sat low in the water, heavy with human cargo.
We crawled to the edge of the jungle line near the sand to watch the ships departure. We followed just out of site. If I had a chance, I would save them all. I needed to be ready and I needed a plan.
The ship lumbered around until it was facing the same direction that it came, and briefly I thought it would leave and vanish forever, but suddenly it turned direction again and headed into the small cove. We scampered along the shoreline, following just out of sight.
It sailed into the middle of the small cove. The ship was so big it visually filled up the entire cove, even though it didn’t really, and then the massive anchor dropped, creating a great splash, hitting the water loudly.
Men began to climb out of the bottom of the ship, and activities could be seen around the deck of the big ships. We had a perfect view here on a small rise near the jungle line. Music began to drift on the wind. The smell of cooking food began to reach our senses.
I desperately tried to see any black person at all, any parent, but there were only brown men and a few white, the mommies and daddies must have been below deck. Men were relaxing around the ship, as if the workday had ended, and a party atmosphere gathered speed. The other big ship sailed onward down the coastline and vanished.
After some time, women began to be brought up onto the deck, apparently, they needed to survey their goods. I could see one man who seemed to be in charge and another who sat near writing things down.
Little did I know that it was a manifest of human cargo. I was confident of my father, I knew his abilities and I just knew that he would escape, if he could. I had chosen a place on a small rise just inside the jungle line where we could see everything in the cove and to the right down the coastline.
A great number of mommies were brought on deck, including many that I did not recognize. The man who was writing, seemed to be keeping track of everything regarding the women. They removed the ropes and all their clothing, one by one, and he inspected all sides of their bodies, their teeth and hair, feet, hands, fingers. He wrote it all down.
There were many women, they streamed out of the cargo hold in a long line, all tied together with a rope around their waist. The men didn’t seem to want to damage the goods. After the inventory inspection the ropes that had been around their bodies were only replaced around their hands, and then they were all lined up to go back inside.
I saw my mommy. She looked haggard. Her hair was a mess, and her head hung low. Then I saw my auntie, and another woman and another that I knew. They all looked so frail, they all seemed to have completely given up and looked broken.
The mommies did not like their clothes to be removed, but a man with a big knife warned them to obey and warned other men to stay away. Their heads hung down, I feared something might happen, but another man, much larger and with a bigger knife stood guarding the cargo.
It seemed that the cargo had more value in good condition. One by one they disappeared again and the deck was empty.
Once they were all back inside, I looked around and realized it had grown nearly dark. I looked around at the other kids and realized we were all sitting on the ground perched like little birds, waiting.
We all wished for our mommies and daddies. I quickly tried to gather any type of food before the sunset and darkness set in completely. We had no weapons, but the first night was uneventful, and we all got some measure of sleep.
The next day, we watched the big ship all day long, but there was no movement on the ship. The small ship had gone away and had not returned.
As the sun began to set the small ship, along with the other big ship, arrived back with a big group of new human cargo. They were led up on the deck for the inspection and inventory, and then down inside the body of the big ships. They didn’t cook on the deck this time and it was quiet all night long. I stayed awake as long as I could before sleep overtook me.
The next morning, as the sun rose, there was a loud noise in the cove. Suddenly, the anchor of the big ship that my parents were in, began to rise out of the water, the chain made a horrible loud banging noise. What was happening? I jumped up to see better. The big ship was beginning to move and turn in the water, it was beginning a journey without us.
We all quickly ran down to the shore waving our arms and shooting as loudly as our young lungs would allow! If our parents could not escape, surely, we could not be left behind. Whatever lay ahead, we needed to be included, whatever that decision meant.
A man standing on the rail of the ship pointed to us. A fat man laughed, but they kept going. Children would be too frail for such a journey, we had no value and would surely die. The big ships were leaving and going in the same direction they had arrived.
They raised the big sails and began to pick up speed departing. Smaller and smaller and smaller on the horizon, until the tiny black dots disappeared into the sunrise.
We sat on the shore in absolute silence staring at the horizon and listening to the waves. Each of us began crying in our own way. After what seemed like an eternity, I became aware that we were all in such agony that we had not eaten and the day was gone.
The sun had set and the moon had risen, a full moon, shining and bright. I needed to shake this off, there were children to take care of. I turned to look at the jungle. It was a wall of blackness. This was not good. I looked around for a big stick.
My eyes darted back and forth; darkness had overtaken us as we sat in our tears. A rustle in the bushes and then a wall of eyes shined in the moonlight. To my right a low growl was coming from a short distance away.
“RUN!” escaped my screaming mind!
All the children ran in different directions, frantic to escape and survive for an unknown life without parents, the community, our village, our way of life. A flash of predators came out of the darkness, and I realized we were simply defenseless fresh meals for the taking of all sizes.
One set of eyes turned towards me and our eyes met for a flash of a moment, because in an instant, the chase was on. I selected a path and began running into the darkness, but I was quickly overtaken.
I was no match for the darkness, the evil, the predator, the teeth. I remember the pressure around my neck and feeling crumpled, then no pain.
I became aware that I was floating above the predator. I reached down to touch what was left of my body, and became aware that I was a spirit child, like my mother had always talked about when I was young.
As a spirit child I was free and I was becoming more and more aware that I was no longer a child, but an ethereal spirit. As I was floating away from the horrible scene below me, I began to think about my mother and incredibly, the more I wanted to be with her, the more I realized that I was moving through space.
In the blink of an eye, I became aware that I was in the slave ship where my mother was. My wish had taken me to her. I was up in the very top corner of the cargo hold, near the rafters, sitting like a small bird on a limb in the air.
The cargo hold was immense, row after row of people, lay before me. I heard crying from both mommies and daddies. I found myself in a certain kind of hell, powerless, defenseless and a witness to such tragedy and emotions.
Being dead itself was not so bad, it did not hurt. I was not hungry. I was just there. I just needed to figure out a way to either save them or to go to heaven, because I could not stay where I was at.
I began to say a little prayer that my mother had taught me as a child asking for help from spirit, and I squinted my eyes closed. Suddenly, I became aware of what smelled like lavender and I opened my eyes to see a lovely angel holding out her arms for me.
I willingly drifted into her open loving arms and she lifted me, holding me closely as she whispered softly in my ear that everything would be OK. We were drifting out of this evil place and upwards into a wonderful new place, up and up. I could see relatives coming to greet me. I knew that I was in my spirit life, home and safe.
The nightmare would continue without me, I was at peace. With a snap the memory was over, and I was back in my own body, I felt the warm tears on my cheeks from remembering this life. I was aware that I was saying “Daddy, Mommy” and I felt exhausted, but very thankful to be safe at home back in my body and current life.
However, for weeks after this memory I found myself in a depressed state of mourning. I missed this life and I missed my Daddy.
