Kaliha Tikoa and Adisa Cohen are two ordinary Africans living in the northern part of Africa. Like everyone else before slavery, they were feeding their animals, making sure the livestock grew nice and juicy enough to eat. Similar to most of their friends, Kaliha and Adisa had dreamed about venturing to Europe. And, ironically, they got what they wanted free of charge, but not without labor.

It was like any other day in Morocco, women carrying their babies around the homes with them as they made breakfast, and the men hunting down chances of their next meal. Kaliha, upon coming back from his hunting spree, found his village in shambles; fires were being set to their homes, their livestock killed, and the women being forced out of their homes by unknown white men. He ran closer to his home only to be pulled back by someone.

“Let me go,” he cried out in his language as he struggled against the person’s grip. “My wife– My children–”

“We got another one, boys!” An Englishman shouted to his comrades before Kaliha jabbed him in his ribs with his elbow and ran.

Though, his freedom was short-lived, as three white men tackled the strong, African male, holding him down. He heard a gasp of pain erupt from himself as something struck him in the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke, however, he was in complete darkness as his body rocked from side to side as if he were on water.

Am I on water? If so, where? This is not one of our canoes…

“Kaliha,” the male could hear someone call, his eyes steadily adjusting to the darkness with some difficulty. He saw it was his best friend, Adisa. “Are you alright?”

“Yes… There’s just… My head hurts,” he groaned. “I think they hit me with something. What about you? Are you okay?”

“Save for some sprains, yes.”

“Where are we…?”

“We are on what seems like a big canoe… It seems like one of the English inventions.”

“What about–”

A door opened and light flooded into the small, pungent smelling space that Kaliha, Adisa, and many other Africans were chained up in. Upon seeing the two friends’ casual sitting position, the Englishman scowled, letting go of the edge of the door and strode over to the two males. His leather whip was dragging behind him. He stopped in front of Adisa and Kaliha, a frown gracing his wrinkly face.

“And what exactly are you two doing?”

Kaliha looked frantically from Adisa to the broad-shouldered Englishman, asking his friend, “What is he saying?”

“I… I’m not sure.”

Staring at the two of them, the broad-shouldered male raised his whip, causing the two males to flinch and cry out as he struck them both about five times each. Kaliha, finally realizing what the man wanted, told his friend to follow along as he got on his hands and knees and stayed in that position, Adisa following his friend’s lead.

They stayed in that position for months at a time, being fed like dogs as they were forced to eat slop like everyone else. As they arrived in Europe, specifically Germany, they were sick to their flattened stomachs. The area reeked of death and rotting corpses, not to mention bile that had been produced from the weaker Africans. Adisa, however, was wide awake as the ship stopped moving.

Someone, anyone, just let us die. Why are we still alive?

Sighing shakily, Adisa nudged his friend weakly.

“I think we have arrived.”

Kaliha perked up as he heard footsteps, his body tensing. His back was already raw with wounds from that bloodied whip.

I am stronger than them, but they have their ways at keeping me at bay. Where is my family? All I have is Adisa…

The door once again opened to reveal a younger white male who was armed with no whip, no gun, no dagger… Maybe. They were led out of the ship, Kaliha and Adisa limping behind the young male as he led all of the Africans outside. As they emerged from the ship, the two friends could feel themselves falling, and falling, and falling. They fell into the darkness that had been waiting for them since the start of their depressing journey.