zwanga
The man who became zwanga was born seventy-seven years ago, of a well-off family in a large village in the jungles east of Port Schendi. The youth was lanky and loved climbing trees, as much at home in the canopy overhead as he was on the ground and the village. When he was given the stabilization serum, his lean and thin body reacted oddly, and he had a final growth spurt, ending up a tall and well-muscled figure, a giant among his village.
His skill as a hunter served him well, and before he was twenty, both of his arms were ringed with the ritual scars indicating each type of prey he’d brought down, and the first of the scars were etched into his chest.
Then he encountered his first outlaws, three warriors fleeing from disgrace in Nyuki. The three charged the hunter, intent on killing him for the tabuk over his shoulder. He reacted without thinking, killing the three in a matter of ihn. He was taken to be trained to fight, and wandered after learning a warrior’s skills.
Over the next ten years, he wandered. He used his skills as a hunter and a warrior, guarding and raiding. He traveled well into the lands of the Wagon peoples to the south, and as far north as Brundisium before returning to the jungles of his homeland. He settled, hunting and defending his home, learning music and letters during this time, as well as discovering he had some reasonable skill with cooking.
In Schendi , one cannot grow in importance without becoming involved in politics. The hunter’s uncle planned a coup, and he schemed and plotted in the Courts. His uncle made one unwise alliance and one less wise confidence…and found himself on the losing end of the coup. Schendi is ruled with a stern hand, who knows the wisdom in not letting enemies remain free or alive. Those related to his uncle who did not die in the crushing of the coup attempt were enslaved, man, woman and child. The hunter became the slave.
Many years he spent serving the household of the new king, learning what is expected of a slave. His training was specific to Schendi, and he always was confused when he met kajirae who were trained in other lands and he tried to learn their ways as well as what his Masters and Mistresses expected of him.
One thing that stuck in his mind was the visit in recent past of a white woman who seemed to be in charge of a contingent of warriors…and how her gall earned her the stunned respect of the Ubar…..the slave who had come to be known as zwanga watched intently, impressed. She concluded her business without him seeing her again, but he remembered the bold woman and her success.
He was sold then to a ship’s captain, who kept him as an extra hand, and zwanga spent every moment worrying about what ideas the captain had him on the ship for. His ability to cook served him well, but he had heard of male slaves being sacrificed to appease water spirits, and never could stop thinking of this image…until the storm…the ship had wandered north late in the year, and a storm caught the ship….they fought the storm valiantly, but vainly. zwanga, chained below decks sat and listened to the ship breaking up around him, and fell into the icy waters of the sea.
He found himself on the shore at dawn, clutched his torn tunic about himself and began following the shore, certain that eventually he’d find some man-made structure…if he didn’t freeze to death first.
In the second night of walking the shore, he stumbled upon a pier…he could make out the shapes of boats looming in the night, and began walking up the path from the piers….found himself standing outside a stockade of some sort, as well as he could make out. Guards searched him quickly then two figures guided him into a bright and warm place. He became aware of light, of heat, of figures moving around and warming him….when his eyes focused, he was looking up at the same woman that had stunned the court in Port Schendi..
As he healed, his fate was explained to him, and the collar of his dead Masters was removed, replaced with the collar of the Fjord…eventually to be replaced by the collar of his Mistress. And as he spent time in the new place, he saw something he hadn’t seen in some time…a place that was a home…even if more than one family, a sense of family, a place to belong. And for the first time his collar was a thing to cherish more than to accept…and he learned pride in his new home, his new family, his Owner.