Shela’s Journey

My name is Shela. My Mama says she gave me that name because it sounds like ocean waves gently crashing onto the shore. Strangely, the ocean has become part of who I am. Let me tell you why.

I was born in the great Kingdom of Dagbon in Western Africa. I had a very happy childhood, but when I was just eight years old, bad people came to my village and kidnapped my mother and my father. They took them away in chains so that they could sell them to other bad people that would make them work for free. These bad people, the slave traders, did not only take my parents away. They also kidnapped hundreds of men, women and even children from the Kingdom of Dagbon.

During the raid, I hid behind a thorny bush. That is how I saved myself. Other children who had hidden just like me, told me that our people had been taken on big ships on a journey across the ocean. A journey called ‘the journey of no return’. Once I realised what had happened, I decided that I would go after the slave traders and find my family and my people.

And so, I ran. And ran. And ran. Across fields and villages. Through forests and plains. I ran until finally I reached the ocean. But when I got there, there were no ships. And the ocean was just so big! How would I make it across? How would I find my mother and father?

Feeling tired and defeated, I sat on a coconut stump and wept.

Then suddenly, I heard the voice of an old woman who said, “Weep not my child. I can help you find your family.”

I looked up and saw a tall woman standing next to me. She was so tall that she swayed in the breeze like a coconut tree. “I am Mami Wata, the spirit of the seas. I can get you to where you want to go,” she said. “But it is a dangerous journey my child. Two million of our people will die in the deadly crossing. And those who survive, will be forced to call a new land home for eternity.”

“How will I make it if so many others will not?” I asked.

“Child, we are as tall as every mountain we climb. Plus, I will help you! Take these three amulets. Wear them tightly around your neck. They will make you invisible so that no one can harm you. When you need to be seen, just remove an amulet and place it in the hands of the person that needs to see you.”

“Thank you Mami Wata. With these special powers, I will surely find my parents and my people again.”

“Well child, one thing that I must tell you is that each amulet represents one of your lives. You only have three left. Use them wisely.”

“I will! I promise I will!”

“And I also need something from you. When you find our people, tell them that they have not been forgotten. Tell them that they still have a home and that they still have a name.”

Before I could reply, Mami Wata disappeared into the ocean, just as quickly as she had appeared in the first place. And suddenly there was a huge gust of wind and I found myself in a new and unfamiliar land.

I ran. And ran. And ran. Across fields and villages. Through forests and plains. For hundreds of years, I ran. But I couldn’t find my mother or father. And when I had given up hope, I sat again on a coconut stump and wept. And right at that moment, I felt a gust of wind rising, and I heard Mami Wata’s voice again. “Child, we are as tall as every mountain we climb,” she said. I looked up to where the voice was coming from and right there in front of my very eyes was a big white house. I walked inside and can you guess who I saw?

No, it was not Mami Wata. It was my own mother! I ran straight into her arms but went right through her. Of course, I was still invisible! I quickly pulled one of the amulets that I still wore around my neck and placed it in her hand.

“Who are you?” She gasped as though she had seen a ghost.

“It’s me. It’s Shela, Mama. It’s really me.”

My mother grabbed me in her arms and did not let go for a very long time.

“Mama, I have a message for you and all our people here. I’ve been sent to tell you that you have not been forgotten, that you still have a home and that you still have a name.”

Mama looked sad for a while. And then suddenly a wide smile lit up her face.

“Shela, I need you to go to the sea shore and bring me back a basket of fish and some coconuts. Then, over there where the ground is poto poto, tap some sweet palm wine from those trees. And where you see that hill, bring me some ripe plantain from there.”

I ran as fast as I could and brought back all the ingredients my mother had asked for. That day, she and I cooked all day! We cooked akara and moin moin. Aki and saltfish, kele wele and coconut sweets. And when our people came home tired and weary from the day’s work in the plantations, they were met with a feast.

It was not a feast just because my mother was the best cook in the world. It was a feast because everything they ate tasted of home. It tasted of their names. And they knew that their ancestors had not forgotten them. That night, after dancing for hours, they slept easy.

Mama, Mami Wata and I had completed our mission here. But I still had to find my father. So, I bid Mama goodbye and continued with my journey.

I ran. And ran. And ran. Across fields and villages. Through forests and plains. For hundreds of years I ran, until finally I arrived in a land where there were no coconut trees but lots of concrete buildings instead. Where the slave traders’ chains had been replaced by handcuffs.

Still, I could not find my father. Feeling defeated, I wept. And sure enough, there she was again, Mami Wata whispering in my ears, “Child, remember that we are as tall as every mountain we climb.”

And when I opened my eyes, there he was, my Baba, my father. But he did not look like I remembered. The once towering man that was as strong as a baobab tree was on the floor. Across his neck, another man’s arm pressed hard against him, and I heard him cry, “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” Eleven times he cried, “I can’t breathe.”

I ran to him, pulled out the second amulet and placed it in his hands. “Our people have not forgotten you Baba. You still have a name. You still have a home.”

I don’t know if Baba found his way back home. Or whether he or my people ever will. But what I do know is that on a windy day, I can still hear Mami Wata whispering, “We are as tall as every mountain we climb”.

Oh, and as for the last amulet. Well, I still have it because my journey is not over yet. Not until all my people are truly free.  

— END —

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