October 31, 1730 the Port of the Queen was filled with the anticipation of a new stock of East African Slaves supposedly ten times stronger than the common West African Slave who had become more and more resistant against their owners. This new breed had been the buzz of the township of Jamestown. As the story reached new buyers the new Breed African women could cut oak trees single handedly and the Men could build mansions from those trees, the children were known for their ability to prepare fine dishes and clean and were exquisite in tapestries.
Brokers were standing atop soap boxes shouting stories of the New Slaves arriving to port. How they had personally witnessed the feats and strengths of these New Africans.
“Never before have you seen the Herculean strength of an Eastern African! They are three times larger than the largest West African you now possess!”
“The women of these strange and new people are easily trained to be domesticated in the kitchen, the tending of the children, field labor, and breeding.”
“Is your West African slave a burden? Has he or she become untrustworthy? Do they steal your crop, your stock? The New African from the Eastern hemisphere, was born to serve the white man. They are told it is a privilege to serve us, and they are as eager to get here, as we are to get them here!”
One Plantation had become so enthralled with the brokers’ claim, that he shoved one from his soapbox.
“Upon arrival, if what you say is true indeed, I will make the purchase of the not only the entire stock of new Africans, but I will also make purchase of the ship itself, as well as the crew and all of their provisions for a return trip!”
The mall of buyers laughed at this, patting the excited customer on the back, returning back to the brokers to hear more spectacular stories of the New Africans about to enter into their port for sale.
The “Good Queen” was nearing port. The lights of Jamestown could be seen on the horizon by the lookout.
“Report to the Captain, that the port is in sight due north by northwest.”
Below the decks in the hull of the ship, the cargo sat in quiet. The water of the bay lapped against the side of the ship indicating that they were out of the deeper water and nearing land.
Nzuri had made up her mind, she was not going to be taken captive. She would gladly die before she allow herself to be sold into bondage. Days ago, while the ship was pitching and rolling on the high seas, she was able to find a piece of metal and worked furiously to free herself from the locks that had been bound about her neck wrists, and ankles. Secretly, she picked at the lock, until on morning, the lock opened in a single click. Nzuri raised her cries to Isis for giving her the strength and will to be free. Nzuri, not wanting to create a commotion, touched the woman next to her and in her native Entebbe tongue.
“Sister, I am free!”
The woman looked at the Nzuri and with half-open eyes and hanging head, she muttered;
“I too, am free.”
Her lifeless body collapsed over and she was still.
From deep inside the hull, a man’s voice shouted.
“I will not let them take me alive! He will fight for their freedom? Who will join me and fight for freedom?!”
All around the man, the people cried out.
“do not speak, they will come and beat us.” On man whispered.
“they will not feed us.” Said another.
“I will fight.” Came the voice of another man.
All were silent.
“We of the Entebbe Nation region will join you.”
Nzuri jerked her head to the sound of the voice. For 14 days, she had been in the hull of this ship and had not heard the sound of this familiar voice until now.
“Osiyemi?!” Nzuri called out to her brother.
“Who calls me?” Osiyemi returned
“It is me, Nzuri, your sister.”
“Nzuri, I am here! I am here!”
From above, one of the Cargo tenders opened the cellar door. The putrid odor of rotting death and human waste rushed out.”
“If you heathanous bastards do not shut your holes, you will not eat until tomorrow! No talking!”
The Cargo Tender could hardly stand the smell from down below. The door slammed shut and the fresh air quickly stifled back to the smell of the death.
Nzuri unconcerned with the uproar of the people when they saw she was free, stood up. Her legs ached from being in the same position for weeks, but the pain did not stop her. She called out to her brother.
“Osiyemi!? Where are you?”
The people quickly began pleading with Nzuri to free them. Holding up their locks.
“Free me please!”
For the first time, Nzuri could see the awesome hatred of humankind. To take another human and subject them to such dehumanizing condition, was founded only in hatred. Hundreds of Black faces looking to her, holding out their hands to be freed. Old people, young people. Some of them began to cry out louder. Until all she could do was move blindly through the sea of people. Looking in the faces of each person, at their sorrow, pain, she could hardly stand it.
Where are you Osiyemi?!
The uproar became louder and still louder.
Finally, Nzuri saw her brother, and father, and her cousins. They had all been taken, and for all this time they were there with her, and she had not known. There was no time to embrace, she knew that the white men would soon come.
Quickly, she squeezed in between her family members and began to work on the locks of for her brother. The lock quickly popped open.
The door opened to the outside and the white men quickly descended into the hold of the ship with whips and guns in hand.
“what is all this forsaken noise about?!”
The shouting continued. To the white men, the language was indiscernible, but clearly something had caused them to be disturbed. Slowly, the men walked through the rows of the Cargo, looking at each face. A woman who had been held near Nzuri, saw the white men coming. She knew they would see the broken lock if they came closer. She didn’t want them to see it, because then they would find her, and hope would be lost. With all her strength, she laid forward on top of the lock and chains, covering them with her body. The Cargo Tender walked past the woman thinking she had merely fainted.
Oseyemi was free, of his lock, but he knew he could not allow them to know. There were too many of them. The Tender walked closer, his eyes looking at each man. Nzuri had turned her back to the men, and held her hands close as if she was shackled. Had the Tenders counted the bodies, they would have noticed someone was out of place, but they were eager to get out the odorous place. And quickly left.
When the Tenders were clear, Nzuri began to work furiously with the locks, and though the shouting began again, no one wanted to return to the hold.
“We are near port. They must know the journey is almost over for them.”
within two hours, Nzuri had made her way through the ship’s cargo hold and freed all the living souls. Finally, looking at the object, she realized it was a key. How the key had found its way to her hand, she would never know, but what she did know was that today, she and the living souls of the ship were not going to allow the white man to determine their destiny.
The shouting had subsided, much to the Captain’s likeness.
“There is no hope for them. They must realize this by now.”
At the shore, someone spotted the mast of the ship. A lookout had saw the raised flag of the “Good Queen”.
“it is the “Good Queen!”
With news of the “Good Queen’s approach, the entire port was electrified with anticipation.
Osiyemi stood before the remaining captives. Men and women, old and young, had gathered, scraps of wood broken from the hold of the ship as weapons.
“when they come for us, we will fight to the death. They will not take us alive.”
“Kill them all. Show them no mercy, as they have showed us none.”
“today, we will die as men and women.”
Someone began to sing as they waited for the doors to open.
Courage is my Brother, I will always honor him; in life and in death
Honor is the way of the Entebbe and we are Entebbe
Respect my ancestors Respect my children!
May the sun always shine on Entebbe
Entebbe-Courage!
Entebbe-Honor!
Entebbe-Respect!
This was repeated louder and louder and the shouting started up again, this time with a different pitch and fever. The women began to the scream and the men continued to chant.
“We cannot have this forsaken noise heard as we approach the port. Go down there and beat them if you must, just make them stop that racket!”
Osiyemi could hear the footsteps approaching. He motioned for the people to rasie their voices. And they did.