25 April 2012
Uhuru. I roll the word over in my mouth. Uhuru. I glance over at my fellow mice. We take the wheat of the stalk. We've been doing this since dawn, and will continue until dusk.
I look at Amy. Poor Amy. Our owner only bought her last year due to pity. Not pity for Amy, but for the person trying to sell her. He bought her because he thought the slaver needed the money.
Amy stops working for a second, to check her bleeding hands and aching arms. She decides to shake out her arms out for about two seconds. But it's too long. Our sergeant comes over to our workplace.
Oh, how I hate the sergeants. They go against their fellow mice for slightly higher rations. But, I can't say anything against them. I would do nearly anything for extra rations.
The sergeant approaches Amy. He takes a sharpened knife from his belt, and carves a small 'L' into the back of her right shoulder. L for Lazy.
I have to restrict my itching muscles. Every fibre of my body wants to lunge out and punch him. That 'L' will earn her half rations for a month. She can't take that, she's weak enough already.
I allow myself a swear at him under my breath. But he hears. He pulls out his knife, glinting in the scorching sun, and carves a 'T' into my own back. Oh god, I've done it now. That 'T' means talkative. And that means that tomorrow morning, before work, they will thread a strong twine through my lips, preventing me from opening my mouth until dusk; when they will take it out so I can eat.
For the rest of the day we work and work under the burning sun. The blood from my cut runs down the contours of my back. But I don't care, it's slight relief from the sun; and slight relief is better than none.
The sun finally goes down. We trudge slowly towards the rations tent. We take our crust of bread and a cup of water. I dig my teeth into my stale crust. I might as well use my mouth while I can. "Amy?", I ask to the scared little girl next to me. "Yes", she sniffles in her rough accent, Ugandan maybe. We speak for what feels like a moment gone before we see our sergeant escorting our slave master. One of the most renowned cats in California.
He approaches me and Amy, and looks at us as if we're dirt under his foot. "So",He growls in his posh American accent,"You're the ones who've been causing trouble. And now, talking at dinner time. If I didn't know you better I'd say you were a tad ungrateful."
He laughs. A disgusting, poisonous sound that slips into your ears and climbs around your brain. With a flick of his gloved hand he gestures for a sergeant to grab each of us. He whips off his glove and extends his claw. He slaps his hand across my cheek, leaving three scars from his claws.
"And now, ladies; we will teach you a lesson you will never forget."
As we are dragged into the foliage I realise what scares me most, is the venomous manner in which he says the word 'never'
Uhuru - Chapter One • Opuss № I