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Adamma
I had lived most of my life in the Kingdom of Marrakesh with my father Bornani, mother Adunbi, and Grandmother Abikanile. Father was a skilled mason, and mother and grandmother were excellent bakers and brewers. We would sell and trade our goods at the market in the village of Almoravid from sun up to set.
In the morning, before we'd go to market, with curious awe, I observe Ma and Gran start the flour for the bread. They added droplets of water and a little salt while kneading into two loaves, they would knead again and place the loaves into a wicker basket covered by cloth. We'd gather our goods to sell for the market as the loaves began to increase. When we returned home, the loaves nearly tripled in proportion.
The market is always crowded with carts, horses, donkeys, and camels. They come loaded with the produce of the season such as cotton, grain, oil seeds, and vegetables. These things are arranged attractively for sale. The merchants make their purchases moving in groups.
In the evening hours, we would count our denarii which our family averaged about seven a day, and hope that the quality of grain we traded for my father's crafts was to our satisfaction.
Our freshly made bread was often soaked in wine or butter and honey, served along with olives and cheese. On occasion, mother would make vegetables and fish or wild game and mutton. My grandmother was excellent at growing vegetables and herbs, including caraway, nutmeg, cardamom, ginger, garlic, leeks, onions, rosemary, thyme, bay leaf, basil, shallots, cabbage, peas, celery, turnips, radishes, figs, oats, rye, along with maize, beets, fennel, marjoram, cumin, and mustard.
The times then were very good for me and my family.
When I was only thirteen, my cherished father died during the great war, he hid my grandmother, mother, and me as he fought valiantly to save our home, our land from foreign invaders. At the end of the battle, we lost my father, my mother's beloved, and my grandmother's only son.
After the war ended, my grandmother tried her best to aid in the rebuilding of the village, she became the medicine woman known for healing minor ailments. The entire village was thankful, but after the devastation, no one had the means to rebuild. We all struggled and without our father, we now barely made enough to survive.
My grandmother was very old when she passed away naturally, I was sixteen. Because of her, I know how to read and write. Not many women from my tribe have this honor. Before her passing, she provided me with her treasured book containing all of her recipes. She made me promise as she breathed her final breaths, to never part from it and to always keep it nearby. I would soon realize that her sacred book had so much more meaning than simple recipes and gardening instructions.
A year, after my grandmother's passing my mother, met my stepfather Lethos. The older man owned a small grain farm with a few goats and had sought out my mother not only for her beauty but her knowledge of harvesting quality grain. He moved us from our town in Almoravid to a larger village near the water's edge called Koutoubia. I diligently made the best of my new home aiding my mother and Lethos in all that needed tending to. Although I missed my old one, I was happy to see Mother was happily tending to the small plot of land and middling home. We both wished Lethos to make our life in Koutoubia as it was in Almoravid, but as time went on, we both realized this would never be. Lethos was not caring like my father, he hurled insults at me and my mother when he was having a bad day, which was almost every day. He tells my mother that she is not enough for him and he wishes he could have many wives. There was nothing we could do that seemed to please him besides bringing him currency from the market. I often lay in my bed at night wishing for my past life.
Just before my long day of work was nearing an end, my stepfather entered the barn where I was tending the goats. I had become quite skilled at making butter and cheese. Our goods were in high demand at the market.
"Come here dumbass," I heard Lethos voice behind me snicker. I turn to meet his vile leer upon me, a look of contempt and lust, "Do you have some samples of your medicinal herbs?"
I paused, grasping the question, then stood from my kneeling position. My forehead crinkled with uncertainty.
"Well, mute do you have them or not?"
He had taken to calling me these crude names since I was attacked by a wild animal a year ago. The attack left me scarred and unable to speak. While my mother nursed me to health my stepfather cursed me, wishing me dead. He believed I'd be better off dead because, in our village, I was no longer considered beautiful. To him, a woman's worth was in her looks, other than that her value was based on her ability to make coinage.
"Well...nod your dreadful head if you do."
I ignored his insults and nodded slowly. I always carried three things with me. My grandmother's book, my mother's freshly minced medicinal herbs, and my father's dagger.
"Well, come on then ugly, let's not keep them waiting,"
My stepfather hated me; ever since he tried to take me and I fought him. My mother had risen before dawn leaving for the market to sell her fresh baked goods. I'd wake to him on top of me, kissing me and touching my breast. I tried to remove his hands from me and struggled to free myself with his weight upon me. His hands moved onto my intimate area and something in me crumpled. I reached under my bed and slashed at him with my father's dagger. The dagger landed on his arm, slicing his shirt scratching his skin, and drawing blood. He yelped as he rolled off of me and I sat up, curling my body into a tight ball. My trembling hand held firmly to the knife. He staggered backward cursing me and holding his bleeding wound.
He did not dare try to touch me again. When my mother returned, he pretended that nothing happened, but his evil eyes never faded. I would often catch him glaring at me with malice, today was no different.
I slowly approached him, armed with my dagger hidden underneath my dress, I followed him out of our farm down the old road, expecting to go to the market in the village square, but then he turned and headed towards the hedges.
Internally, I paused; something was not right. There was a feeling in my gut that said, no, go back home to Mother. I slowed my pace.
"Come on, this way, ugly, the rich man wants his medicine delivered to his door," He marched on without a backward glance.
Was Lethos going to try and rape me again? My pace slowed more as I glared at him with suspicion.
The longer we walked the longer the sun sank into the sky. I know of no rich person who lives this way. This is close to the water's edge, only fishermen lodge here. My mother spoke of a kind fisherman camping nearby who heard me the night I was attacked. He rescued me and brought me to her.
My pace grew more sluggish, and the visceral feeling in my gut magnified. If Lethos attacked me, I no longer can scream out for help.
I was several paces behind when the path curved, and my stepfather disappeared. I tried to arm myself with my hidden dagger, but I was too late. Lethos struck me with a rock and I fell to the ground.
When I awakened, I was not sure how much time had passed. I could tell it was moments before nightfall. When my eyes gained focus, I took in my surroundings. I was sitting on a forest floor, tied to a tree. A ragged gasp escaped my damaged throat as I struggled with my restraints. I was unable to break free of them. I heard footsteps approaching.
"You're awake, just in time - the Vikings are coming to take you now."
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
