The People of the Niger River

In the Efik kingdom, on the southern bank of the Niger River, life flowed in the rhythm of the waters. It was a place where the sun painted the mornings in shades of molten gold, and the evenings faded into a deep, purple sky. Here lived Kwame, a young man of 20 with a sharp gaze and skillful hands. He was a gifted artisan, who worked teak and ebony wood into intricate statuettes, representing the spirits of the forest and the venerated ancestors. His community, a small settlement called Uyo, was united by blood ties, by centuries-old traditions, and by a deep respect for nature.

Kwame's mornings began with the rhythmic sound of grain mills, with the laughter of children playing in the warm dust, and with the shrill call of roosters. His mother, Ada, was a woman of quiet wisdom who made sure no one went hungry. His father, Femi, an old warrior, taught Kwame not only the art of sculpture but also the history and legends of their people. One evening, under the gentle moonlight, Femi showed him the constellation that guided navigators and spoke of the vast sea, full of dangers, but also of promises.

Life in Uyo was not without challenges. Sometimes, rivalries with neighboring tribes led to minor conflicts. But, in general, peace reigned. The people cultivated yams and cassava, fished in the river, and celebrated the harvest festivals with dances that made the ground vibrate. It was during such a celebration that Kwame met Nala, a girl with a smile that lit up her face and an energy that captivated him. Nala wove rugs with complex patterns, and her hands, just like his, created beauty out of nothing. They began to meet in secret, exchanging small gifts and whispered vows. They planned to marry after the next harvest. They dreamed of a small house of their own, of children running through the yard, and of a simple but happy life under the gentle sun of Uyo.

Part II: A Shadow Falls

Then, the white men appeared. They were not the first the community had seen, but these were different. They came from the coast on huge ships with sails, and they brought with them foreign goods—mirrors, colorful fabrics, but most importantly, firearms. Local merchants, from the port cities, traded with them, buying valuable goods in exchange for captives. Until then, slavery in the Efik kingdom was a different concept. Slaves were usually prisoners of war or people who owed their freedom, and they were often assimilated into society, even having the possibility of regaining their freedom.

But the newcomers, these "guests" from the sea, wanted something else. They wanted a large number of people. Fragile alliances were formed, filled with suspicion. Kings and tribal chiefs, tempted by the power of the weapons, began to sell not only their prisoners but also members of rival communities. Some even sold people from their own tribes. Kwame and his family did not feel directly threatened. Uyo was too far from the coast, protected by dense forests. They believed the misfortune would not reach them.But one night, the silence was broken by a brutal uproar. Hundreds of soldiers from another kingdom, armed with rifles bought from the merchants, stormed the village. It was a raid, a lightning-fast attack, designed to take as many prisoners as possible. The men resisted, but their traditional weapons—spears and bows—could not compare with the deafening noise and lethal power of the rifles. It was a massacre. Kwame watched in horror as fire consumed the huts. He looked for Nala, for Ada, for Femi, but in that chaos, everyone was an island of fear.A strong blow threw him to the ground. He woke up with his hands tied and a rope around his neck, along with dozens of other survivors, pulled from their homes in the middle of the night. People from his village, along with prisoners from other tribes, stood with empty stares, chained to one another. He desperately searched for Nala, but her face was nowhere. He did see Ada, his mother, with a wound on her arm, with tears running down her dry cheeks, but with a dignified look, full of incredible strength. The same strength he had seen in his father's eyes, who had been killed in the fight.

Part III: The Road to Nowhere

The road to the coast was a nightmare. They were forced to walk for days and nights in a row, through the dense jungle, tied in a single file. They did not receive enough water or food. Those who collapsed from exhaustion were left behind or, sometimes, killed. Kwame saw how the spirit of many was breaking, and hope was fading. But he kept going, kept alive by a single thought: to find Nala again. And by the image of his mother, who, though weakened, whispered words of encouragement to him from time to time.

When they reached the coast, an unusual smell hit Kwame's senses: a mixture of salt, fish, and a heavy stench he had never smelled before. They were led into a stone fortress, a somber, soulless place. Here, they were branded with a red-hot iron, an act of unimaginable cruelty, which left Kwame with a deep wound, not only on his skin but also in his soul. They were locked in dark, dirty, windowless cells, where the only sound was that of despair and of diseases that spread quickly.After days that seemed like an eternity, they were taken out and led to the shore. There, on the vast waters, stood some huge monsters, full of masts and white sails. They were the slave ships. Each person was given a last look at their native land before being crammed into the dark and suffocating hold of the ship.Kwame felt a cold shiver in his heart. Beyond the fear of the unknown, he felt the pain of loss, of the definitive break from everything he had known and loved. Lying on a dirty plank, with hundreds of people around him, with the heavy smell of despair and the sounds of moans, he closed his eyes. He held in his mind the image of Nala's smile and the songs from the village of Uyo, hoping that the memory would give them the strength to survive. The journey was just beginning, and the vast, unknown ocean was carrying them toward a destiny no one could imagine. His world, the one on the bank of the Niger River, remained behind, fading into an increasingly distant horizon.