Hakashima: The Slave who Runs Free

The beginning of disgrace.

‘Run! Run!...Don’t look back.’

            As I hovered through the forest, every step I took made my garments wet a heavier. Nonetheless, the fear I carried is more intense than the clothing I carry on my shoulders.

            Let me introduce myself since I’m on the verge of danger, my name is Hakashima Pacha, a runaway slave who escaped from the most dangerous slave hunter, Captain Burgeouis. This was just three years or so, and now I’m seventeen years of age, a Mayan runaway slave. I may be the last of my people, the one and only full blooded Mayan to escape from the clutches of the Spaniard invaders.

            Everything my people and I suffered through was due to the extravagant climate change. The one thing that affected our health was the dramatic influence of the monstrous heat. There was an overflow of rain which was too extreme for our field crops, there were no fishes to catch, and our men and children were falling ill to the verge of death. Giving the women no option, we took our men’s duties such as hunting and the defense of our people. There is no explanation to why women can adapt this climate change; however, we do know that we were the last hope of survival among our people.

            It was early in the morning when us females went out to hunt our prey. The only time of the day where hunting is manageable without the heat interfering our abilities. As I searched for at least a hog to appear, something caught my eye. A grand boat sailing afar.

I blinked.

“Hakashima!” yelled out my sister, Hamaluoa.

“Hama, a boat! A big one!” I called back in my native tongue.

Hamaluoa stood close by my side and flinched to look clearer, since the sun was slowly rising.

“It’s a boat alright,” she finally agreed.

All the women stood our side, observing.

“Who are they?” asked the others.

We saw small look alike canoes sail closer ashore.

“Shall we wait?” I asked.

Hamaluoa gestured some female hunters towards her. “Go to our husbands and tell them what’s amiss. Take some women with you to guard the camp. Those who want to stay you may.”
            That wait was the biggest mistake we ever did. Those who appeared among us had the whitest skin as the white clouds on a clear day, with silver shining hard obstacles covering their whole body from head to toe. They were gentle at first, looking at our face with their sky color eyes as if we were a mystery to them. Later they would smile their straight white smiles and show us some shiny bracelet’s with beautiful colors we never seen, one with the color of blood, some the color for of the tree’s leaf’s, the color of the sky and the most used, the color of the sun. This was new to us, although their gaze on us felt uncomfortable, we finally accepted their gifts and gestured them to follow.

            Sister and I thought they meant good; therefore, we offered them our hospitalities among our people. When we reached our destination the white men apparently went wild. All female Mayans ran towards their children and husbands, to protect them. While our men fought weakly, the white men killed them and our children, rapping the women. Those who surrendered or were too weak to fight were shackled and carried away towards the boat. Hamaluoa still fought against them.

“Hamaluoa, don’t fight back. They will kill you,” I cried out.

She glared. “I would rather be taken by the Aztecs than these white monsters.”

“We have to let this one go!” growled a white man, in a tongue I did not understand.

Another white man disagreed. “Captain would not like one of his slave’s to be set free.”

A big, buff, tall scary white man appeared and took out a bright sharp obstacle.

I hesitated as I stared into the eyes of my sister who gave me a last glance before he chopped her head.

“Hamaluoa!” I screamed in agony, as I tried to get away from the hold of the white man.

“And you’re correct,” said the Captain, as he cleaned his sharp obstacle with a cloth.

I growled in anger, trying to reach towards my sister behind my teary eyes.

The white man who held onto me, said. “She’s a fierce one alright. Will you…”

“I will not get rid of this one,” interrupted the Captain.

He gripped my chin and made me look from my sisters to his. “You will not get out of my sight you wench.”

            Staring back into the face of my sister’s murderer brought me only rage and hatred towards him that I had the idea to spit him at the face, which caught him by surprise.

He wiped his face with his hand and the color of blood appeared on his face with anger, he raised his head and stroke me across the cheek.

            At this point the vengeance of my sister’s death was so great that my energy, strength, and rage doubled before my eyes.

“Captain Burgeouis!”

“WHAT?!” he growled.

            That distraction was all I needed in order to have my escape plan put to action. With all the strength I carried I lifted my feet, letting the white man who held me carry my whole weight, and kicked the Captain’s most precious part of his body. When that got the Captain off guard I dropped my feet to the ground and used all my strength to pick up the man who held me and bent my back all the way forward between my legs to throw the white man off of me. When mission accomplished I headed towards the forest than it hit me.

I ran back towards my sisters body and took her bracelet off to mine, to remind me of her death.

Phew!

An arrow was thrown where my sister’s body laid.

My eyes went wide with shock. ‘The Aztecs!’

            I didn’t need to look up to know it because all it took was a glance at the arrow. Without looking back I ran because I was afraid if I looked back I would see the agony on my people’s face and knew I would not be able to leave. So I ran.

            All my life I have been running without rest. Afraid not of the Aztec’s, but of Captain Burgeouis in capturing me. Throughout my three years of loneliness in the forest, I used the techniques and skills my people have taught me to survive in the wild. Through my spare time I exercised and trained myself in martial defense; however, I know it wouldn’t help much against that monstrous man. Right now all that matters is surviving and surviving I did, by running.

            I have been tracked countless of times. Not only by the white men, also the Aztecs. For them it is a game, for I it is only training. I learned how to run faster, make traps, and most of all survive without water and food for a long period of time, the white men tire easily, unlike the Aztecs they learn something new each day. I felt so confident of myself that one day I didn’t expect them in my hideout, waiting.

            As the fire still blazed I was walking towards my camp after my hunt, than there they were, the shadows among my camp. Before they could react I was already on the run. My senses didn’t need to know who they were because these people who were hunting me had quiet footsteps and those white men had heavier ones. There is no way I’ll let them catch me. No way!