ONE

The African kingdom of Wambazi was going through a tumultuous insurrection – one lead by ruthless rebels. The country had gained independence nearly half–a–century earlier and now decades of corruption had finally taken its toll. A sizable part of the military had split away and declared war on the ruling class, leaving a disparate faction defending the government.

While around a hundred thousand whites populated the country, they were mostly settled on large–scale farms or within urban areas. The Millers were no exception, living in a small suburb just on the fringes of the capital city.

Jenna Miller was seventeen and stunning in appearance – blonde, straight hair that reached down to her shoulders, with bright, blue eyes and bow–shaped lips. And her younger sister, Carla, was just as pretty. The two girls were separated by only a year.

They had clearly inherited their looks from their parents, who were both fair and tall. Martin Miller was a successful businessman while his wife was a former model. They had met while Martin had been studying business in London.

Jenna was looking forward to continuing her studies abroad one day. She was probably going to inherit her father’s import business, but there was no hurry. She was still too young to care about such things. And her dad was only forty–two, so he was not going to retire any time soon.

However, the revolution was putting everyone on edge. The fighting was happening in the Northern territories, which was relatively far away from the city. But Martin Miller was taking no chances, hiring a driver to escort his two daughters to their private school.

He also started to follow the news more closely. Jenna noticed the change in his demeanor, although she pretended to be none the wiser...

Until about a month after the revolution had gotten underway, and after she had completed her piano lessons one day, Jenna asked: “What’s wrong, dad?”

He was sitting by the desk in his room and hunched over his laptop. “Huh? What?”

She sighed. “What’s bothering you?”

He waved her off at first and smiled. “Nothing. Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“You sure, dad?”

“Off course.”

Despite his affable grin, Jenna could see the worry in the man’s blue eyes. “It’s just, you’ve been leaning over your computer ever since...you know...”

“I know. The fighting has been going on for a while now. To be honest, I’m worried about our future. I’ve been talking with investors in Australia who are interested in buying my company wholesale.”

She was shocked by the revelation. “Why, dad?”

“Because I think it’s time we left for greener pastures. How does Brisbane sound to you?”

“We’re going to Australia?”

Martin nodded. “Africa is not the place it used to be, honey. When I was young, we could afford to leave our front doors open. Now I’m concerned when you walk to the shop down the street.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I’m finalizing arrangements so we should be leaving in a month’s time.”

“But what about my friends?” Jenna asked irately.

“Honey, I can guarantee you more whites are planning to leave. And I hear the civil war is moving towards us. Eventually the fighting will be in the streets. Do you really want to be caught in the middle?”

Jenna was crestfallen. “No, but...I grew up here.”

“I would be a bad father if I didn’t consider the safety of my family first. I also grew up in this country, so it’s just as hard for me to leave.”

She leaned against the door frame. In a way it was a relief, considering the encroaching war. She did not want to be trapped in the middle of all the fighting. However, she would be leaving everything behind, and that saddened her immensely.

Two weeks later, Martin let go of his warehouse staff and dismissed his maid, Mandla. The middle–aged woman had practically raised his girls and had kept the house clean for years. He gave her a sizable severance and thanked her for her loyal service. Jenna and Carla were fully grown, so Mandla was not needed anymore. And she could not join the family on their departure to Australia.

Also, since they were leaving soon, the house could gather a little dust. The family members took turns doing the dishes and washing clothes. Not much else was left to be done, except school.

This carried on for about a week. There was a sort of malaise hovering over the Millers – almost sadness. Nobody wanted to leave, yet at the same time they were counting the days.

Then, one late afternoon, the first explosions could be heard. Dorothy Miller was making microwave dinners in the kitchen when she cried out. “Eek, ” she shrieked comically.

Martin came rushing in. “I heard it too, ” he said with a raised voice.

“How far away is it?” his wife asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Could be five kilometers ”

“That close? What are we going to do? We’re not due to leave for another week.”

“I know, ” he countered and ran his hand through his sandy hair. “Let’s wait and see, okay? It may only be an isolated event.”

Little did he know that the civil war had finally reached the city – far sooner than anticipated. And it was only going to be intensifying.

The Millers had underestimated the situation, much like the other whites who were still living in the country. Almost none of them had left because they had erroneously assumed that their enclaves would be spared from war. Clearly that was not the case.

Pretty soon the girls joined them in the kitchen. “What was that sound, mommy?” Carla asked with big, frightened eyes.

Dorothy was at a loss for words, so Martin spoke in her turn: “I think the fighting has started, honey.”

Jenna gasped. “Here? Now? The whites have nothing to do with this war, do they?”

“We should remain calm and wait this out, ” he said.

“Shouldn’t we try and get an early flight?” Dorothy said, making sense all of a sudden. “Phone the airport and make a new reservation.”

“That’s a bloody good idea, ” Martin replied, heading for the phone. He dialed the number and waited a few seconds before an automatic voice recording answered.

It said: DUE TO UNFORSEEN CIRCIMSTANCE, THE AIRPORT HAS BEEN CLOSED INDEFINITELY. PLEASE ACCEPT OUR APOLOGIES. The message was on a loop and repeated itself soon after.

Dorothy looked on with baited breath. “What’s going on?” she asked, frowning when he put the receiver down on its rest.

“The airport is closed, ” he said grimly.

“But that can’t be, ” his wife said. “We’re already booked.”

“Yeah, tell that to them. Look, this is probably just a few errant explosions. We should sit tight and try the airport again tomorrow.”

“I have school tomorrow, ” Carla said.

“I’m afraid school is out of the question...for both of you girls.”

“But–”

“But nothing!” Martin said loudly, cutting his youngest daughter’s objection short. “I can’t let anything happen to you, understand?”

Carla exchanged a glance with Jenna. Both of them understood the gravity of the situation.

The war had spread far and wide. The next day, the Millers watched television with collective dismay as it became clear how screwed they were. The news broadcast was painting a rather bleak story – government troops were engaging insurrectionists in the city center. People were being told to stay home and avoid the outdoors. Martin made phone calls to friends and distant family members, only to learn they too were trapped in their homes.

By the time dusk rolled in, the repetitive sounds of machine gun fire was starting to reach their proximity. Cannon fire was so close now that shrapnel dispersions were clearly audible.

“I’m scared, daddy, ” Carla said with an uneven voice.

“I know, honey. I think we’re going to sleep in the basement tonight...all four of us. It’s just a precautionary measure. I’m not expecting anything bad, okay?”

“We should’ve left long ago, ” Dorothy chimed in unexpectedly. “I don’t know why you wanted us to stay here in this God–forsaken shit-hole of a country. ”

“Dorothy!” he retorted. “Not now in front of the kids, okay?”

“But it’s true. You’ve made so much money that we could’ve retired five years ago, with enough left to send the girls to university in England. But you just had to make more and more.”

“It’s not so simple. A lot of my assets were locked in local ventures and investments. It takes time to divest so much wealth.”

Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Now we’re stuck here. My mother warned me not to follow you to Africa. She said nothing good will come of it. And now I realize she was right.”

Martin sighed and shuffled his feet. “This isn’t my fault. I didn’t start this war.”

Meanwhile, Jenna and Carla were looking on. They had rarely seen their parents argue before, but the onset of stress was starting to take its toll on the family’s resolve.

“Anyway, ” Martin continued. “I’ll start thinking of a plan tomorrow. But we should be making camp in the basement as soon as possible. Let’s gather food so long and take it downstairs.”

The Millers collected the bare essentials and gathered in the cramped room under the floor. It was uncomfortable and dank. The war’s ambient noises were hard to ignore, especially since they were so piercing. Jenna felt depressed by the massive change in her circumstances. She hated being trapped like an animal – not knowing what tomorrow may bring.

Eventually sleep overcame her, drowning her worries for the time being. That night she dreamed of the future she would be having in Australia. No longer was she sad about leaving Wambazi. Her mother was right about it being a ‘shit-hole’ country.

TWO

Several days later...

Jenna was startled by the howl of a siren outside the house and sat upright in her sleeping bag. She yawned and stretched her arms out as she usually did. It was a morning ritual. Her lower back was stiff from spending so much time in the basement.

How many nights had she been sleeping down here? Five? Six? She was not the type who liked to ‘rough’ it. She yearned to sleep in her own bed again, without fear that she might get blasted by a stray rocket or bombshell.

By now she had grown used to the oppressive sounds of war, yet as she sat there by herself, there was no gunfire or explosions – just a loud, piercing voice.

Someone was bellowing over a bullhorn, muttering something incoherent.

It was then that she realized – she was alone in the basement. The others had already moved upstairs. She yawned once more and put on her shoes before monkey–crawling to the stairs (the ceiling was very low).

By the time she reached the foyer, Jenna realized that the man with the bullhorn was talking in a very urgent tone. In fact, there was almost a tinge of anger in his voice.

Her parents and sister were standing by the front window and staring out towards the street outside. “What’s going on?” she asked, still feeling groggy.

“I don’t know, ” Martin Miller said with a shrug. “But it seems they’re rounding up people.”

“What people?” she asked.

“Some of our neighbors.”

“Why?”

“Maybe they are being extradited or transported to safety.”

Jenna walked around to the adjoining window and peeked through the curtain. Her view was not the best since it was partly obscured by a trellis, but what she did see was troubling. The man holding the bullhorn was a soldier. He was wearing a beige uniform with maroon lapels and matching beret. Further along the road, some families were being escorted to military paddy wagons.

None of the soldiers seemed to be patient with the civilians, Jenna noticed. It looked more like they were being forced to enter the large vehicles.

And why were the military grunts showing their weapons so brashly if this was an evacuation? The way her mom and dad were eyeing the situation told her that they were smelling a rat as well.

Her heart sank when the man shouted over the bullhorn: “Miller family. Leave your home immediately and stand on the lawn. Delays will not be tolerated.”

His vitriol was indisputably patent. “What do we do, dad?” Carla asked with widening eyes.

Martin Miller was dumbfounded. “I don’t know.”

“We’re not even dressed properly, ” Dorothy said. They were all wearing long jeans, t–shirts and sneakers. This was fine inside the confines of their house, but the Millers did not like to slum it in public.

“I repeat, ” the soldier said, holding the bullhorn close to his mouth, “come out of your house NOW!”

“We should just go outside, ” Jenna’s father said uncertainly.

“But what do they want with us?” Carla asked. “And why are their rifles aimed at our neighbors?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Martin whispered impatiently. “There’s a war going on so maybe they’re just on edge or something.”

“I don’t know, ” Dorothy said. “None of this is sitting well with me.”

Martin was about to reply when the bullhorn–soldier interrupted their peace again: “Step out now! If I have to repeat myself again, soldiers will come in and drag you out. We know you are there so just obey.”

After brief hesitation, Jenna’s father inhaled and opened the front door. He led his frightened family across the lawn and stopped when they were at the pavement’s perimeter.

The soldier approached and lowered the bullhorn. He was fairly tall, with typical features for the region – thick lips, beady eyes, a flat nose and pitch – black skin.

“You are the Millers, ” he said with a thick accent.

“Yes, ” Martin replied. “May I ask what this is about?”

“No questions!” he barked rudely. “Wait here for the Captain.”

Jenna watched with morbid curiosity as another family was being shepherded into the back of a paddy wagon. Adults and kids alike were briskly being pushed inside.

“Where are they going?” Jenna asked the African soldier.

“Be quiet!” he said. “Wait here and don’t say anything.”

The Captain came walking across the road once the paddy wagon was driving off into the distance. He exchanged some dialogue with the bullhorn–soldier, but since they were speaking in a tribal dialect, Jenna had no idea what was transpiring.

After briefly checking his clipboard, the officer dismissed his underling, who seemed happy to leave and join his mates by the last remaining paddy wagon.

“You are the Millers, ” he said matter–of–factly, with a timbered voice. His tribal accent was not as bad as the soldier’s, but his appearance was just as unappealing to Jenna. She had always avoided blacks, and it wasn’t just because of her father’s over-protective nature. But she couldn’t afford insulting an African officer who had armed soldiers just a few feet away.

“Yes, we are the Millers, ” Martin replied. “Will YOU tell us what’s going on?”

The black man’s eyes danced from one family member to another in quick succession. “This may be news to you, ” he said calmly, “but the civil war is over. The evil president has been executed and his useless cabinet has either been killed alongside him or arrested on charges of treason.”

“That’s all good and well, ” Martin said, “but what does this have to do with us?”

The officer lifted the clipboard and seemed to be reading silently for a few seconds. Then he looked Jenna’s father square in the eyes. “You’ve had dealings with several local politicians, Mister Miller. You and your family have made undue profits while conspiring with corrupt leaders...at the expense of the starving population.”

Martin gave him an incredulous expression. “W–h–a–t?” he exclaimed. “That was all above–board, I assure you. And I made no undue profits, as you say.”

“Still, you have done very well for yourselves. According to the sheet, you have accrued a staggering amount...nearly three million of your English Pounds.”

“I’m not...I’m not from England, ” Martin said. “I’m a citizen of this country, just like you.”

The officer gave a rueful laugh. “Oh, you whites claim to be citizens of Wambazi, yet you choose to live apart from the blacks. You don’t like the way we look or smell, Mister Miller?”

“No, that’s not what I said...”

“Whatever, I don’t like this conversation. It’s boring. And like you said, you’re a citizen of Wambazi, so you will obey the laws of Wambazi. No special privileges for you and your family.”

Jenna was disconsolate and close to tears as she and her family were led at gunpoint towards the paddy wagon.

“If you’re going to punish someone, ” her father said gruffly, “punish me and let my family go. They had nothing to do with this.”

The Captain, who had been following in their wake, laughed once more. Evidently he had no empathy. “Why, Mister Miller, haven’t you ever read the laws of the country? If a man is sentenced for a crime against the sovereign ruler, his immediate family must share his punishment. Including all children older than sixteen years of age.”

“Those are from the days of...”

“You were going to say, from before the time you whites came and colonized our humble, African country? Well, we have reinstated that law since this is Wambazi, Mister Miller. All of you are under arrest, so get in the back already.”

“You’re horrible!” Dorothy cried out with trembling lips.

“Is that some sort of insult?” he countered, drawing uncontrollable laughter from his troops.

“We did nothing to you, ” she blurted out.

“I don’t care what you have or haven’t done, white bitch. I’m under orders to arrest all conspirators. Don’t think for a moment that the color of your skin exempts you from punishment.”

“Where are we going?” Martin asked.

“I’m taking you to court. There you will be sentenced.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting a fair trial first?”

“Political prisoners don’t get fair trials, Mister Miller. You stole from the royal ruler by committing fraud with political thieves.”

“Like I said, this was how business was done. My dad used to do the same. He bribed officials, otherwise he would get cut out from future deals.”

“And from now on, such corruption will not be tolerated. Now climb in the back and stop talking.”

The four of them were miserable, but they obeyed, if only to avoid more trouble. Jenna was last inside the paddy wagon and nearly had a seizure when the latch was closed and locked behind her. All of a sudden, she was experiencing severe claustrophobia. It was taking all of her willpower to remain composed. Yet, she knew that her face betrayed every kind of anguish imaginable. Carla was wrapped up in her mother’s embrace and weeping like a small baby.

Jenna slid sideways next to her father and could barely look at him. How could he put them in such a precarious position? How could he?

Instead of expressing her anger, Jenna just rested her chin against her knees and waited for the ordeal to end. She was sure it would end soon. Things never stayed bad forever...right?

The city was still covered in smoke when the paddy wagon stopped in front of the large building with the marble pillars. On the drive towards the courthouse, Jenna had seen that some houses had been reduced to rubble. The civil war had been brief but devastating.

The soldiers jumped out of the vehicle and quickly ran around towards the rear. Then one of them opened the latch, beckoning for them to step out. “Come, ” he insisted. “We have more people to pick up. Don’t waste our time.”

As soon as all four of the Millers had their feet on the ground, the Captain ordered them to hold their hands in front of their chests. That’s when their wrists were tied with reinforced cable ties. Jenna winced because the hard plastic was digging into her skin.

“Not so tight, ” she pleaded.

“No talking, ” the Captain said with a sly grin. He was enjoying the humiliation his soldiers were inflicting on the Millers.

After that they were ushered roughly up the steps and over the short, cement pavement towards the large entrance. A few curious onlookers were already gathering inside the large hallway, some of them pointing at the Millers and muttering among themselves.

Jenna did not want to be an object of interest. She wanted to avoid the uninvited stares, but here she was in public like a monkey at a zoo. Her mind was still trying to reconcile reality with hope, wishing for a positive outcome. She knew this was not a dream. This was real and her stomach was churning.

There were many people lining the passage, and Jenna could tell by their stiff appearances that they had been dealt the same judgment. Most of them were black, but she spotted several whites as well – a few of them being familiar faces from her neighborhood.

And strangely, there was hardly any banter, just a strange, deafening hush. Several uniformed guards were dispersed among the captives, most assuredly to prevent anybody from running away.

The Captain shoved Martin from behind and pointed to the ebony door on the right. “Wait for your names to be called by the bailiff. You will enter the courtroom and await your sentence. You can protest, but this will not help you. And once you know your judgment, prison guards will take you.”

Jenna saw that her father wanted to ask questions, but the officer had already turned about face and started for the exit with his underlings.

THREE

The black magistrate was leaning somewhat lazily in his chair when the Millers were shown in. The courtroom was basically empty, save for a few arbitrary witnesses in the back rows and a typist who was there to transcribe proceedings.

The magistrate was aloof, giving them just a cursory glance. “You are Martin Miller, Dorothy Miller, Jenna Miller and Carla Miller. Say aye to confirm, please.”

Jenna felt a little foolish as she said “aye” in concert with her parents and sister.

The man nodded. “Alright, you have been brought here on charges of gross corruption. This is a felony and considered one of the worst crimes against the king. And because of the reinstatement of the country’s pre–colonial laws, the entire family must face the punishment.”

Martin Miller was about to speak up. But the bailiff, who was standing behind them, tapped his shoulder and simply said: “Quiet.”

The magistrate cleared his throat. “I can use my own discretion, thanks to my authority in such matters. The king has a desire to punish those that threaten to destabilize Wambazi. For that reason, I think it only fair to make an example of you.”

Jenna was barely coming to grips with the situation. Surely this was all a big mistake. Surely.

“For the crime of corruption, ” the magistrate continued, “I hereby sentence the Millers to twenty–five years of hard labor in the Gondwana Colony. You will fall under the stewardship of the Efegini tribe who owns the land on which the colony has been located.”

The four of them just stood there, as if waiting for a punchline to someone’s bad joke. Then Martin Miller said: “Are you serious?”

The magistrate looked outraged. “Am I one of your friends, Mr. Miller? Why don’t you address me as sir?”

Jenna dad was taken aback, but he mustered the courage to raise his voice once more. “Sir, my transactions with the previous regime were always above–board. I was merely following the rules, don’t you see?”

“I’m not interested in such details, Mr. Miller. You broke the law.”

“A law that must have been installed just hours ago, sir.”

The magistrate slammed his gavel against the desk. “Trivial. You will accept the sentence. And as recompense for your crimes, your entire estate, plus all your assets will be confiscated by the king’s regime.”

The Millers were dumbfounded and exchanged confused stares. Jenna had nothing to say, although she felt winded all of a sudden.

Was someone going to run inside the courtroom and exclaim that the Millers had been ‘punked’ all this time? If that was the case, it was a horrible prank.

Yet, when the guards came for them moments later, the realization hit her like a freight train – they were truly going to prison.

After exiting the courtroom, the Millers were lined up against the passage wall and photographed one by one. Jenna was frantic and was struggling to look at the camera, but she managed a vacant stare in the end. And when a black woman came around holding a strange contraption that resembled a small pop–rivet gun, she was panic–stricken.

No questions were asked as the contraption was used to inject something into their arms. Jenna was last in line and jumped a little when the woman pulled the trigger. But at least it did not hurt.

They were led to a growing congregation of people at the rear of the courthouse. Several old buses were lined back to front and the guards were already pushing people inside. This was real, Jenna thought. Her heart was palpitating wildly in her chest, but when she turned to back away (perhaps in the hopes of prolonging her freedom), a new batch of prisoners were being escorted out of the building. There were so many that Jenna had no choice but to keep moving forward.

Carla was visibly crying. Her mother was upset, and probably close to tears as well. Her dad seemed stoic in the face of adversity, although his eyes revealed deep shock.

And Jenna? She did not know what to think. She just placed one foot in front of the other. The guards motioned the masses towards the buses; sometimes whistling loudly; sometimes clapping their hands to urge everyone along. Jenna made sure to keep close to her family, because if she was separated from them...that would be too much trauma for the day, and she would surely collapse in a heap.

In the end they entered a rusty bus with a gray livery. It smelled of flatulence inside. Yet Jenna was relieved to be with her parents and sister, no matter the odor. The four of them found their spaces in the middle of the aisle. Jenna was by the window seat and took a deep breath once she was able to sit down.

Her hands were still bound together. The cable tie was starting to make a shallow incision around the skin of her wrists. And it was painful.

“There will be no talking, ” a heavy–set guard pronounced, using all of his diaphragm. “And if anybody tries to escape, I will shoot them.”

Then he walked to the front of the bus and sat down next to the driver. Three more uniformed men boarded and made themselves comfortable in the only remaining seats behind the first guard.

After that the driver pulled the lever that closed the pneumatic door and turned the ignition. The vehicle’s engine woke with fits and starts. Plenty of smoke bellowed from its tailpipe before it started to idle smoothly. Jenna bit down on her lip when it rolled into motion.

About ten minutes after leaving the courthouse, she realized that her bladder was full. With all the stress she had not even noticed it till now, but she desperately wanted to urinate.

What to do?

“What’s wrong?” Martin Miller whispered in her ear. He was sitting next to her, occupying the aisle seat.

“Um, I need to pee, dad.”

“What, now?”

“Sorry, ” she blurted out a little louder than anticipated. “I was not counting on being incarcerated and being driven to God–knows–where, against my will.”

He shushed her and tried one of his disarming smiles again. “Just sit tight, okay? Can you hold out for one hour at least?”

She sighed. “I dunno...maybe.”

“Well, try.”

“And if I don’t, what will happen? Will they arrest me?” she said sardonically.

“I’m just trying to avoid drama, is all ”

“Dad, we’re already going to prison. I don’t understand how wetting my pants is any worse than what’s already happening.”

“Quiet back there, ” the heavy–set guard barked. “I said no talking!”

She sagged down and stared out the window, defeated. In its reflection, she could see the emotional expressions of her mother and sister.

What was going to become of her family? What was going to become of her? Twenty–five years was a long time to lose in some “colony”, she thought, especially for a crime she did not even commit. Was there a possibility of parole at some point? And did the magistrate mention “hard labor” during the sentencing?

Awe shit. Jenna had more questions than answers, and she was not sure that she wanted to know the truth. Already her mind was preparing for worst–case scenarios. All kinds of unwelcome ideas were swirling around in the deepest depths of her rousing nightmares.

The prisoners were being transported to some place distant – somewhere rural. They had left the city behind over an hour ago and now Jenna could see nothing but bushes and savannah. The few farms that still dotted the lands were few and far between.

Somehow her urge to urinate had lessened, although the pressure was still there. The best she could do was to distract herself with the passing landscape and the occasional antelope that happened to be grazing somewhere in the sprawling grasslands.

It did not help that the bus was following an uneven, meandering gravel road. Every bump and release was testing her resolve.

When the driver turned off into an inauspicious junction that seemed to lead nowhere, the heavy–set guard sprang up and addressed the miserable passengers.

“We are entering the cherished lands of the Efegini tribe, ” he said. “This is a protectorate, and therefore belongs to the Efegini people. As long as you walk on this soil, you will adhere to the rules of the tribe. You will not lift a hand in anger or speak ill of a local. Anybody who does will face severe punishment. Am I understood?” When nobody responded, he repeated his question. “Am I understood?”

A collective mumbling to the affirmative ensued. Jenna just nodded her head and simply said “yes”.

“The Efegini have been charged as your superiors, ” he continued. “They will effectively be your guards during your stay. Don’t be fooled by their lack of uniforms or their primitive customs. The tribe is very effective at putting prisoners in their place. So don’t try your luck. Am I understood?”

They all agreed.

“Good, ” the man said with a brimming smile. “We will arrive in about fifteen minutes. There will be no storming for the exit once we’re there. Passengers will leave in an orderly fashion and line up outside, where you will await processing. Am I understood?”

Jenna swallowed. “Yes, ” she said within the drone of other voices around her.

“Oh, and one more thing. Each and every one of you have been injected with transponders. So even if you manage to escape, we can track your every move. If you get caught...and you will get caught...you will get an even stiffer sentence. Am I understood?”

So that was what the contraption had been for, she realized with shock. She was now on somebody’s radar.

“Do I have to repeat myself again?” the man shouted angrily. “Am I understood?”

Despondently, Jenna and the others muttered “yes”.

FOUR

The Gondwana Colony was a forbidding place, with a high turnover rate. And by high turnover, it was meant that most of the prisoners died during their sentences. The Efegini tribe worked inmates hard in the quarry because the former government had rewarded the tribe well for its supply of stone.

Despite the new regime, it was still business as usual. Except now, the brand of political prisoners they were getting were apparently of a different stock.

Favo Ugbula had heard through the grapevine that some of the new arrivals would be white...males and females. He thought it was ballsy, incarcerating former colonials when Western countries would surely object to their kind being treated so harshly.

Not that he cared. He was a native member of the Efegini, with little aspirations outside the tribe. He had tried living in the big city, many years ago. He had amounted to absolutely nothing, which was probably because back then, the whites were still the ruling class.

Although, he had discovered that most work required specialized skills – skills that he sadly never had. The only work he could find were odd jobs, like bricklaying, trench–digging or gardening. Since the pay had been horrible, and the hours irregular, he had decided to pack up and move back to the tribe.

As it turned out, his return had been fortuitous, since the prison was nearing completion and the new-found Colony was looking for guards. It was salaried work – not offering a whole lot, yet more than he had ever had before. So he had signed up and the rest, as they say, was history.

The tribe had ‘modernized’ somewhat in the ensuing years. His village was not far from the Colony – a stone’s throw away across the river. Over time, their huts had been replaced with a mish-mash of adobe shacks or sheet-metal dwellings. And it was no longer necessary to carry water from the river since the government had provided basic plumbing some time ago.

But, in many ways, it was still a primitive culture – would probably stay that way for a while still. The tribal members never embraced Western clothing, choosing instead to remain with their traditional, leather tunics for men, and breach cloths for most women.

Another tradition of the tribe was the taking in of slaves – usually women. During pre–colonial times, when the tribes had been fighting, it was common to enslave captured women and children. Now, they were usually acquired by trade.

And his village was not the only one that supplied the colony with guards either. All along the length of the meandering river, small settlements were straddling its fertile embankments. They were all Efegini, but run independently from one another – each one of them with its own elder. It just so happened that his village was closest to the colony.

Admittedly, he was curious as he was strolling to the compound’s perimeter. The facility was partitioned into smaller “camps”, which made it more manageable, and was cordoned off with a very high chain–link fence. It was impossible to scale because the fence was intertwined with barbed wire.

Besides, all prisoners were ID tracked with small chips under their skin, so even if they escaped, the authorities in the urban centers would soon chase them down.

Favo was in charge of the fifth camp – a position he had gained not through any particular merit, but through seniority alone. If he had remained in the city, he would probably have been overlooked for a multitude of reasons.

He was already fifty–one years old – an age where some would start preparing for old age. He was short, even for a tribal man – about five feet two inches from head to toes. To add to his misery, he was unsightly, out of shape and had an embarrassing speech impediment.

Yet, thanks to his tribe placing value on age instead of other quantifiable talents, he had ascended to a high rank in the colony. Only the superintendent was higher than him, and he left Favo alone for the most part – to run the fifth camp as he saw fit. To be fair, his job was not that hard. He could resort to violence or threats of violence. If prisoners got hurt (or died), nobody gave two fucks about it because more prisoners were always arriving.

These newcomers were different, however. It was not just that they were political detainees either. The colony had always been fed an unhealthy number of dissidents throughout the years. No, for the first time ever, they had been assigned a batch of whites. He had no idea what to expect, but he suspected that there would be a few surprises.

The brand–new government had already informed the superintendent over two–way radio that the “old” laws had been reinstated. In turn, the superintendent had briefed his camp leaders on what this could mean – almost certainly that some men had been arrested alongside their families.

So the colony was going to receive some very young inmates. He imagined some of them carrying pick–axes and digging through the quarry trenches. If fully–grown adults had trouble adjusting to life in the colony, teenagers were not going to last long. If the hard labor was not going to kill them, they would surely fall victim to violent attacks.

Because not all prisoners were incarcerated for their political leanings. Some were just blatant criminals, with no compassion or inhibition. Favo mulled over this with nothing more than detached interest. He had never really had reasons to care about other people.

After all, none of the tribal women had ever given him any favor. He had been rebuffed so many times, there was no reason to try any more. By now he had made peace with the fact that the Ugbula line was going to end with him.

He would have acquired a slave woman if he could afford one. But since he lacked anything of value, there was precious little he could trade with. So in the end, he just existed from day to day, living with quiet resentment as the men his age were welcoming grandchildren into the world.

Favo made his way to the colony’s entrance, which was a wide, graveled driveway. Already, most of the guards had congregated behind the fence as the first of the buses made their way through the open gate. The engines growled noisily and their suspension creaked across the uneven surface, but the drivers deftly turned the massive vehicles and parked in front of the main building.

After the pneumatic doors swung open, the prisoners came out single–file and in regimented fashion – their limbs rigid and their faces revealing fear. At first, all he could see was black people. They were generally well–bred, from the looks of things. But that was to be expected.

There were women too, and this drew lustful sighs from the guards. Favo noticed some of them grinning from ear to ear.

The colony had taken some female prisoners over the years, although it was relatively rare. And they never lasted that long anyway. Nobody cared because it was more of a hassle to keep them around. The superintendent wanted as much stone to be excavated as humanly possible, and keeping too many females around messed with the numbers.

Favo was a self–confessed bastard, but the superintendent was borderline malicious. He was known to ‘thin’ the ranks when production started dipping. Then the next batch of fresh prisoners would come and push up the numbers again.

The amount of cruelty that the man allowed was mind–blowing. The guards had carte-blanche to do as they please. Not that Favo had reason to complain. As long as he was the one dishing it out instead of receiving it, he was content with the status-quo.

He was still mulling things over when the first of the whites started trickling out of the buses. They were a mixture of young and old – men and women. He counted several teenagers in their midst as well. Some of them were as young as sixteen (which was the youngest permissible age at which someone could be sentenced) and a few who were just blossoming into adulthood.

His attention was grabbed by four whites in particular – a family, it seemed. They were standing very close together. The father was very attractive and tall, while the mother was absolutely gorgeous. Despite being dressed modestly, their privilege was unmistakable for the world to see. Their demeanor oozed entitlement.

Both of them looked like they had stepped out of a magazine – like those high–society, well–to–do jet–setting Europeans who had grown up with silver spoons in their mouths.

When living in the city, Favo had spent a lot of time admiring the huge Billboards with the white models. This family reminded him of those models. He did not want to stare too long, in case the other guards became aware of his fascination.

So he briefly glanced at the two daughters, who were excruciatingly perfect in appearance. They both had a rare and unattainable combination of features – at least it was rare to someone like Favo. He was sure that in their sheltered world, there were many beautiful people with blonde hair and blue eyes, but not here in the tribe...not here in the middle of Africa.

They were unattainable, he reminded himself. A fifty–one–year–old, short, black man had no business fawning over young, white girls. But were they not prisoners like everybody else? He forced himself to look away, only to realize that the other guards were transfixed by the young beauties as well.

After the buses started leaving, he remained close by as the prisoners were divided into groups. On first inspection, the selection appeared completely random. And for all intents and purposes, it was. However, he soon realized that family members were being separated from one another. Several husbands and wives started crying when they comprehended the gravity of the situation.

And when children were forcibly removed from their parents – absolute chaos. There were angry shouts and even threats of violence before the guards ‘subdued’ the threats.

Meanwhile, the family of four had been staring with grim awareness as they waited for their turn to come up. They exchanged despondent glances. The father seemed to be even more torn up about the unfolding events than his wife and daughters. Favo thought it was touching.

Despite their apparent cognizance, all four of them started weeping as soon as the guards separated them. The two girls were visibly trembling but neither tried to resist the inevitable.

Favo wondered if the family members would meet again. All six camps were separated by high, concrete walls, so they were not going to socialize again – not while serving their sentences at the colony at least.

Again, none of this was of concern to him. Favo did not care what happened to the whites at the colony. And he suspected that the authorities back in the city did not care either. Most likely, most of them would die within the first few months of their stay.

Not long after, the superintendent appeared through a side–entrance. He straightened his traditional tunic before addressing the unwilling audience.

“Welcome to the Gondgwana Colony, ” he bellowed in broken English. We here in the Efegini tribe are looking forward to dealing with riff–raff like you.” He scanned the many faces staring back at him and continued. “Most of you have a privileged background, but that doesn’t help you. You need to check that privilege once you walk through that gate because I do not tolerate arrogant behavior from prisoners. For the first time ever, we have whites here, but we expect just as high a quota of stone from everyone, no matter their gender or race. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ” the crowd murmured.

“Whites and non–whites will be mixed together in the camps. And under no circumstance will whites be allowed to fraternize with other whites. If a guard catches two of them speaking with each other or even catches them standing too close together, they have my permission to punish the transgressors. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir, ” the crowd responded, with very worried expressions.

The superintendent nodded. “Right, you have been assigned to six different camps. You will now be taken to your domiciles. When you hear the siren tonight, the lights will be turned off and you will be expected to sleep. If the siren goes off again tomorrow morning, you will wake up immediately and form a line outside your domiciles. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ” they all bellowed.

“Yes...what?” the superintendent said with a wry smile.

“Yes, sir. ”

“Good...good. And you will call every guard “sir” from now on. I don’t care who you were before you came here. But now you’re worth shit. We are your gods now, so remember that next time you try to fall back on your supposed superiority. ”

“Yes, sir. ”

FIVE

Jenna was scared...very scared. And she was sad. It was as if her entire world was falling in on her. Yet, just this morning she had been preparing for a promising life in Australia. Now she was what...a common prisoner? Riff-raff? Something disposable?

Her throat was dry and her heart was beating like crazy as a guard was leading her group through the gates and down a large, open space towards a second gate at the end. Desperately, she looked sideways at her parents and sister, who had been separated from her. They were in their own groups and heading towards different gates.

Would she see them again? Oh God, she was missing them already.

The guard next to her said something incomprehensible in his native tongue, and from the way he was motioning with his hands, she deduced that he wanted the group to walk faster. They obliged accordingly, picking up the pace until they were almost jogging towards the end of the open courtyard.

As soon as they reached the gate, it was opened from the other side. They were all ushered through, one by one, and got pointed down to rows of dilapidated buildings in the center of a huge, gravel courtyard. “You go there, ” another guard said.

She had many questions. For one, did the sexes share the same sleeping quarters? Because if that was the case...she shuddered to think of the ramifications.

Jenna was in an emotional state when she entered one of the buildings. There was no door, so she just crossed the threshold into the murky interior. There was nothing to see but rows of gray bunk–beds lined against the walls. Dust was everywhere. She also did not see any windows.

She chose the first bed that was available, sat down demurely and started crying. The tears came freely, rolling down her young cheeks until they gathered at her chin and dropped down to her lap. This carried on for what felt like an hour.

Eventually her self–pity was interrupted by a sharp whistle that was coming from the outside. She left her confines apprehensively to follow the sound, only to see her fellow prisoners gathering on the grounds in front of the buildings.

One of the guards had a whistle in his mouth, and he was blowing quite hard...repeatedly...annoyingly. He was very short – five feet and two inches at the most. He was as black as the ace of spades, with gray, peppercorn hair and one of the ugliest faces she had ever seen. He had the same build as the other guards, but seemed to be the worst possible specimen of his people – double–chin, very flat nose with flaring nostrils, thick, purple lips, beady, black eyes and cauliflower ears.

Urgh! He was almost simian in appearance.

Also, his leather tunic did not fit him properly – too long for his diminutive body, yet too narrow around his stomach. With such a rotund waistline, he was easily the most out of shape of the guards. Could such an unimpressive excuse of a human being have been given some sort of authority? She hoped not. Surely he was more suited to serving customers from behind a banana stand or tending to someone’s garden. Surely.

“I am Favo Ugbula, your camp leader, ” he mumbled. “Form a single line and put your hands in front.”

The prisoners looked at each other with confusion. It was obvious that the ‘camp leader’ had a lisp, which was worsened by a heavy African accent. When he said “hands in front”, it sounded like handth in front.

“Do I have to repeat myself, ” he growled impatiently.

They all wizened to this fact after a few seconds, bumping haphazardly against one another as they started positioning themselves shoulder to shoulder. Another guard came around with a serrated knife, cutting the cable ties from their wrists.

Meanwhile, while their hands were being freed, one at a time, the camp leader kept talking, much to her chagrin. His voice was extremely grating.

“We need to confiscate all your personal items, ” he said with unwarranted confidence. And as he was talking, a third guard was following the second with a wooden bowl. There were groans from all those around her, but the detainees grudgingly removed their watches and jewelery and placed them inside the bowl. Some of them were staring with longing, probably wondering if their items were going to be kept safe or simply looted.

That was exactly what Jenna was thinking after her wrists became unencumbered. She rubbed the tender flesh and waited until the third guard stepped in front of her. She hesitated at first before removing her necklace. It had great sentimental value – a gift from her maternal grandmother in England. After that came her ring, the one she had earned at the recent swimming championship. She was fond of the ring and parted rather painfully from it.

Jenna caught a glimpse of the camp leader staring at her. It was an unsettling gaze. She pretended to be oblivious of the man’s attention and hurriedly looked away from his offensive countenance.

“Right, ” Favo continued and nodded briskly to the crowd. “We will now take your details.”

The same guard who had removed their bindings came around once more, this time with a clipboard and a pen. “Name and age, ” he asked each one of them before scribbling down meticulously.

Finally, when it was her turn, she blurted out bluntly: “Jenna... it’s Jenna Miller. I’m seventeen years old.”

It was official then. She was a prisoner in the colony. She swallowed hard when her name was recorded into the ledger.

All the while, the camp leader had been grinning for some reason. He was standing there with his arms folded across his distended belly and appraising the new arrivals. But his eyes seemed to land on her more often than not.

When the guard was done taking their names, the camp leader cleared his throat and pointed to the ground in front of his feet: “Alright, take off your clothing and throw them on a pile, right here.”

There were a lot of shocked expressions, and none more so than her own. Did that despicable African just ask her to disrobe in front of him?

“Are you serious?” a young, white prisoner asked. He seemed to be in his mid–twenties and very attractive.

In response, the camp leader signaled to one of the guards, who wasted no time in hitting the young man in his chest with a nightstick. Jenna watched with horror as he winced and doubled over with pain.

“I’m not going to ask again, ” the evil, little man bellowed. “Throw your clothing into a single pile... NOW!”

Jenna was mortified, but went on autopilot when she realized that there was no escape. With trembling hands, she grabbed the hem of her t–shirt and started pulling it up. Her mind was screaming for her to stop, yet what was the alternative? Getting man–handled by the camp leader’s henchmen?

She could feel herself convulsing. The old African was definitely leering at her now. He was not even holding back his stare, probably because he did not have to. She had to remind herself of her dire situation – how any misstep could land her in far more trouble. And the last thing she wanted was more trouble.

She inhaled deeply, mustered all of her remaining courage, and slowly started pulling her shirt over her head. Despite wearing a sports bra underneath, she still felt exposed. The blood was rushing to her face.

The young man was back on his feet now, she noticed. With great reluctance, he had begun unzipping his fashionable blazer. He had seemingly lost the will to resist, which was understandable under the circumstances.

Jenna sighed again as she began focusing on her own predicament. This was turning into the worst nightmare imaginable. Her shirt was crumpled inside her trembling fist, and she resisted every instinct to put it back on. Instead she tentatively stepped forward and discarded it down on the hard sand.

After retreating back to the line, she lifted her legs and yanked her sneakers from her feet – struggling to stay balanced as she reached down in her awkward standing position. Then it was the turn of her socks, coming off just as unceremoniously.

“Remember, ” the despicable camp leader said, barely holding back his amusement: “I want everything in a pile.”

The prisoners acceded numbly and dropped their belongings together in a growing heap. Jenna felt deflated watching her shirt, shoes and socks getting mingled with everyone else’s.

There was not much time for reflection though, because the camp leader was tapping his sandals against the hard ground. “I don’t have all day, ” he said, referring to the assembly but looking directly at her.

She sighed and groped for the buckle of her belt.

Just pretend you’re somewhere else.

The fact of the matter was, Jenna was excruciatingly shy about ‘showing’ herself in public. The last time her dad had seen her naked was twelve years ago, when she was a barely five. Even wearing a one–piece swimsuit during competitions made her blush.

Now she was going to bear all in front of strangers – African strangers. And this ‘camp leader’ appeared to be old enough to be someone’s grandfather. Oh God, Jenna wanted to disappear.

Fighting every instinct, she loosened the buckle, reluctantly pulled down the zipper and allowed her denim pants to fall down to her ankles. Somehow she managed to bend down and pick it up. All that she had on were here sports bra and matching panties.

Around her, the others were dispatching their clothing just as reluctantly. After she threw her jeans on top of the pile, she knew that the moment of truth had arrived. Her head was a chaotic mess, and the only reason she was not crying was because fear was overriding all of her other emotions.

SIX

Favo Ugbula had positioned himself strategically close to the girl, who was more or less in the middle of the long queue. She was aware that he was staring at her, but he did not care. The fact of the matter was, he had the power so nobody was going to judge him.

He was sure his fellow guards were enjoying the show as well. A few of them were clearly licking their lips. Never before had the prison been blessed with white females. It was a strange (and welcome) novelty.

The girl called Jenna was easily the youngest at seventeen. She had straight, shoulder–length, blonde hair, bright–blue eyes and a spectacularly beautiful face. The only white women he had ever seen up close were in Playboy centerfolds, and Jenna was more beautiful than all of them.

Favo used to watch reruns of TJ Hooker on his television when he still lived in the city. Every time he saw Heather Locklear appear with that brimming smile of hers, he would feel his pecker go stiff. And this stunning, blonde girl was reminiscent of Heather in her prime.

It was not just her face that drew his attention like a magnet. Now that she had discarded her t–shirt and denim pants, he could see that she had a lithe, athletic (yet feminine) body. Her youthful skin was smooth and creamy–white, which was in stark contrast to the blacks flanking her.

She was tall – maybe close to six feet in length. He followed the gentle, alluring curve from her toned waistline to her hips and went down all the way to her long legs and delicate feet. How on Earth did somebody like this exist, never–mind find her way to this God–forsaken prison of all places? Also, she could have been assigned to any of the six camps, yet she happened to land right here. The fortuitous happen–stance was both baffling and pleasing at the same time.

Favo watched with anticipation as the young girl reached back, hesitated at first, and then unhooked her bra strap. She was embarrassed and tried her best to cover her breasts when the bra dropped from her torso.

Favo’s already–erect penis went into overdrive. It was wriggling like mad inside his boxer briefs. And when he caught the merest glimpse of the girl’s pink nipples, a little bit of precum started trickling out of his pee–hole.

Oh my...

He was almost within touching distance. Somehow he managed to maintain a calm demeanor, but just barely.

When compared to the average tribal female, Jenna’s breasts were not that big (maybe 32C cups at best). However, they were firm and had perfect teardrop shapes, jiggling ever so slightly when she moved her right arm to pull the bra away from her chest.

Those titties belonged to a seventeen–year–old white girl, he reminded himself in disbelief. Her father was not here to protect her either. He was being held in one of the other camps, so Favo was safe in the knowledge that he could stare without fear of accusation.

The other white females were also attractive. Even the oldest one was easy on the eyes, which said a lot about Caucasians. He had always admired them from afar, despite his deep–seated resentment of them in general. There was no denying that whites had accomplished much in Wambazi.

And he suspected that Jenna Miller was descended from a very long line of accomplished individuals. Only selective breeding over countless generations could have led to the creation of someone as beautiful as her.

In fact, her beauty was very intimidating.

Favo shook off his feelings of inferiority, focusing on the situation at hand. He strained his vision as the girl inhaled and dropped her arms down to her sides. Clearly she wanted to keep her breasts hidden, but that was impossible when the last of her clothing still needed to be removed. Her head was downcast, most certainly because she wanted to hide her shame.

In any event, it gave him another opportunity to stare at her perfectly–formed breasts, this time fully revealed. Her areolae were narrow in diameter (as he preferred them to be anyway), and her nipples were standing to attention. She was shivering and her smooth skin was now covered with goosebumps, so he surmised that her wild emotional state was causing her nipples to become erect. Fear could do strange things to the human mind... and the body.

Then, when the girl was pushing her thumbs underneath the panty’s waistband, he forgot to breathe for a few seconds. She had an anguished expression, like someone preparing to walk over hot coals.

When she paused and wavered, this time seemingly unwilling to continue, Favo decided to provide necessary pressure. “I don’t have all day, ” he cried hoarsely. He made a point of addressing the entire crowd, but his words were aimed at Jenna.

She closed her eyes briefly and whimpered under her breath. Eventually, fear of reprisal got the better of her as she strengthened her grip on the waistband, pushing it down from her hips until the brightly–colored panty went into free–fall.

Favo completely jizzed his briefs when he saw her standing there...naked as the day she was born. Jenna picked up her underwear and discarded it on to the growing heap, wasting little time before covering herself with her arms again. One arm was held horizontally across her chest while the other was placed in front of her vagina.

He scoffed at Jenna’s ineffectual attempt to hide her nudity. He had already seen her pubic mound, which was almost smooth...save for a few strands of blonde hair above her slit.

Thanks to a proclivity for cheap bordellos, Favo had seen his share of pussy over the years. He still visited them in the nearby town during his off days, even if walking from the tribal lands took three hours out of his life. It was worth it though.

Anyway, he knew what ‘experienced’ pussy looked like, and young Jenna’s slit was still tight and pristine. He tore his eyes away from her most private area and quickly scanned the others.

Most of the inmates were trying to cover themselves, so Jenna was not unique in this regard.

“Alright, ” he said, trying to sound as intimidating as humanly possible. “Everybody stand to attention. Drop your arms...NOW!”

He waited for the prisoners to obey. At first they turned their heads and stared at one another, not wanting to be the first to expose themselves.

“Do it!” he said with even more intensity.

One by one, they allowed their arms to sag down to their sides. Jenna was one of the last to do so, standing there with clenched fists and a distressed expression marring her pretty features.

Favo allowed some time to pass before he spoke again. He was purposeful and patient. Until now, Jenna Miller had been avoiding his gaze, but the prolonged silence finally made her look in his direction.

There was an air of desperation about her now, he realized. She had the look of a cornered animal. After all, what was she going to do? She could not run away and she could not fight, even if she knew how. There were too many forces working against her.

If she happened to escape from the prison, the authorities would trace her with the RFID tracking chip and re–apprehend her. And even if she did evade capture by some miracle, where would she go? She was a white, seventeen–year–old white girl in the middle of nowhere. The locals would not take pity on her.

Armed with this knowledge, he calmly signaled to Elondo, who was his second–in–command. “Go get the lar–tens and sandals, ” he ordered in the native tongue. “Oh, and a bottle of lighter fluid.”

While the guard was away to fetch the prisoners’ new attire in the office storeroom, he ambled casually towards the pile, which had been stacked quite high with shoes, shirts, pants, dresses and underwear.

Favo cleared his throat. “There are three reasons we don’t allow Western clothing here in the colony. One, prisoners can get very dusty working in the quarry. Two, clothing can become infested with lice. And lastly, we don’t allow low-lives anything but appropriate outfits on tribal land.”

As soon as he mentioned “low-lives”, some of the miserable onlookers cocked their heads.

“Yes, you heard me right. The Efegini consider all of you criminals. As long as you live here within the colony, you will be nothing more than that. Your worth will be determined by how much stone you can bring in every day. We rarely have female prisoners, and this is the first time we have whites, but we will expect the same amount no matter what. If you don’t meet the daily quota, you don’t eat. Am I understood?”

They stared back with wide eyes and open mouths.

“Am I understood?” he repeated himself.

“Yes, sir, ” the crowd muttered under their breaths.

“I didn’t hear you!”

“Yes, sir!” they replied more eagerly.

Moments later, Elondo returned with the burlap sack, which was flung across his shoulder. His free hand had the bottle with the clear liquid. Favo took the bottle from him and unscrewed the cap immediately. Then he proceeded to pour the contents over the pile of clothing, making sure to spill every last drop.

When that was done, he stepped back and allowed Elondo to light a match. There was a collective gasp when he dropped the burning stick into the pile. The heap of clothing was suddenly a bonfire. The onlookers were aghast when recognition started dawning on them.

“Don’t worry, ” Favo said, barely able to hide his amusement. “We do allow criminals like you one article of clothing. We call it a lar–ten.”

Elondo overturned the burlap sack and discarded the contents, not far from the bonfire.

“Come get it, ” he added, referring to the lar–tens and sandals strewn together across the bare ground.

The prisoners started walking forward like zombies. They seemed to be confused by the small garments, which were nothing more than animal–skin thongs. They offered scant concealment of private areas, particularly at the back, where the material was just a meager, leather strip.

He was particularly pleased by the outraged look on Jenna Miller’s young face as she bent her knees to pick through the small pile. Most of the lar-tens were made for men, featuring vertical seams to create shapes and spaces for male genitalia.

She had to scratch for several minutes before she found a thong that seemed more fitting for the female pelvis.

Unsurprisingly, Jenna was literally turning up her nose at the stringy material. But since she was a beggar and not a chooser, she held it down close to her feet and stepped through the hoop without much hesitation.

Her ired (and embarrassed) expression turned to discomfort when she began pulling the thong up and over her hips. Lar–tens were not designed to go very high over the groin and buttocks, serving as nothing more than symbolic garments.

And in the case of Jenna Miller, it appeared even smaller due to her height. She was trying to adjust the thong by yanking at its waistband, but every time it just snapped back, allowing the top of her mons pubis to peek over the material again. She tried the same at the back, and a few times as she was swiveling her hips to gain some purchase, Favo got a sneak peek at her curvy bottom.

Stubbornly, the lar–ten reverted to size as soon as she let go, adhering tightly to her body and revealing the top of her butt crack. She was evidently close to tears by now. Favo understood her frustration, but he did not care.

He was too busy admiring her beautiful body. The more she struggled with the lar–ten, the more her firm breasts jiggled, and the more he ejaculated into his boxer briefs. This was the best day of his life by a huge margin.

Nevertheless, he wanted to move things along. “Alright, we don’t have all day. Put on your sandals, ” he ordered the crowd, “and reform the line. ”

The people stopped fidgeting with their thongs and went back to the pile. Jenna was about to do the same, but as soon as she bent down, the lar–ten seemed to slide down a little further from her hips. After pulling at the slip of material and readjusting again, she lowered herself carefully on her knees.

It took them a few minutes to find sandals that fit them all. Favo did not mind waiting – instead appreciating her wonderful titties. She was going to be naked above the waistline from now on. And with the lar–ten offering such meager concealment to her body below the waistline, not much was left to the imagination either.

SEVEN

She desperately shoveled through the pile until she found a pair of matching sandals. They appeared to be second–hand, which made her wonder if the thong was a hand–me–down as well. Add that to yet another concern she had to deal with.

Once she straightened herself, the piece–of–shit thong started slipping down once more. Frantically, she pulled it up by the waistband, using just her one hand. Then she threw the sandals down on the hard ground and stepped into them. They were form–fitting and thankfully had no straps, so she did not have to bend down again.

Oh God. So this was going to be her life for the next twenty–five years – wearing nothing but a small, useless thong and sandals in front of strange Africans. What about her privacy? What about her life? How could this be happening to her? How could authorities allow something so inhumane? She had never done anything to deserve such punishment.

It was at that point that she remembered...everybody could see her like this. From the depths of her periphery, she saw her breasts suspending from her chest. Her small, pink nipples were right there, out in the open...unencumbered...and her breasts were jiggling with every fine movement of her torso.

The camp leader was standing about six feet away and leering greedily at her body. Why was it that his eyes always seemed to be pointed at her? Somehow, she knew why. But she did not even want to think about it. An old African like him had no business fantasizing about someone like her.

She was still only a teenager. Surely, this Favo character would not try anything, would he? He would not dare.

There would be repercussions if he did anything untoward. Right?

A cold shudder started running up her spine.

“Reform the line, ” he bellowed crudely, but never tearing his stare away from her. “Arms to the side.”

Jenna swallowed hard and hesitantly assumed her position in the queue again. Her mind was being bombarded with so many negative emotions, yet at the same time she was following the despicable man’s orders as if he was her superior. She wanted to disobey, but she knew it was impossible.

Never before had she felt so vulnerable...so self–conscious...so ashamed. Till now she had always been proud of being herself, yet now she wanted to disappear.

“Alright people, ” he continued, slurring his words as badly as ever, “I think you need to understand the pecking order. In my camp, I am king. You are all replaceable. And here in the colony, we have a high turnover rate of prisoners. You can infer that in whatever way you want. In any case, here are the rules you must follow. Out here in the courtyard, none of you will be allowed to stand too close together. No fucking will be allowed within the confines of your sleeping quarters. You will always call me and the other guards ‘sir’. No fighting will be tolerated. Prisoners will be responsible for their own grooming and sanitation. You will only eat if you work. And lastly, the new rule is for you whites. You will under NO circumstances speak with another white person inside the camp. Am I understood?”

The few whites that were dispersed among the Africans agreed and said “yes, sir”, albeit with repressed resentment. Jenna was probably the most resentful of them all. She hated calling him ‘sir’. In her mind, he was the most undeserving person to ever be called ‘sir’. This Favo guy had no business having such privileges. Throughout his long speech, she had to strain her ears because his voice was almost indecipherable.

Yet here she was, standing to attention and hardly wearing a stitch of clothing. How far had she fallen? Just this morning she had believed herself to be destined for a better life. It felt so long ago now.

“Alright, you will be assigned your beds now, ” Favo said with a dismissive wave of his arm. “Building 5D is only half full. It’s the one at the far end. Follow me.”

When he started walking, the prisoners went after him with small, tentative steps. Jenna decided to hang back a bit, thereby blending with the others. She did not want to be so close to the despicable man, especially after he had been creeping her out with his lustful gazes.

On top of her immense shame from wearing a thong, Jenna also had to deal with sudden discomfort. The material was chafing against her ass crack and perineum, especially now that she was walking.

Favo’s steps were purposeful as he led them to the old building with the chipped paint. His subordinates were not far away, keeping watch over the procession.

“Pick out beds further back, ” Favo said. “The ones near the door are already taken. ” He remained by the open entrance and gestured for all of them to enter.

She tried to keep a few bodies between herself and the old camp leader, but unfortunately, the inmates had to enter single–file. So there was a terrified moment when they were within touching distance.

Jenna tensed up as she passed him, almost expecting to be pinched on her buttocks. Somehow she knew that her fear was justified. And while that did not happen, thankfully, Favo did crack a strange smile in her direction, exposing his uneven, yellow teeth. She just shook it off and bee-lined for one of the beds.

When they were all inside, he walked after them and folded his arms. It did not take long before his gaze sought Jenna out again.

“This is going to be your home from now on, ” he said triumphantly. “Get used to it, because tomorrow you will be earning your keep. Dinner will be served when the other prisoners return from the quarry.” Then he dismissed himself with a casual salute and added: “I’ll be back later.”

She was just so relieved to see the camp leader leave. Never before had she been so ill at ease – so distrusting of a person.

As soon as the coast was clear, she considered climbing into bed and hiding under the blanket, but unfortunately her urge to urinate had returned with a vengeance. Somehow during the bus trip, she had managed to suppress the call of nature – had clean forgot about it until now.

A single guard had stayed behind and was patrolling the courtyard. Reluctantly, Jenna left the confines of the sleeping quarters and found him walking casually, holding a nightstick across his shoulder. She recalled how one of the white prisoners had been beaten with the weapon and imagined getting clubbed in the stomach.

When the guard saw her approach, he broke into giggles and mumbled something in his own language. She felt humiliated about her lack of clothing, yet what could she do?

If Jenna tried to cover herself again, the guard would know that she was ashamed. Maybe if he was so inclined, he would mock her and tell his friends how bashful she was about her nudity. Then her life would become even more unbearable in the colony.

Jenna pushed through her embarrassment and waved, trying to be amicable. But not too amicable, given her current situation. If the man got the wrong idea...

“Hi, ” she said. “I’m looking for a toilet.” When he did not respond, she repeated herself: “Toilet. I need to pee.” The blood started rushing to her face once more.

He looked her up and down and laughed with no restraint. Oh God. What was she to do? “Please, I need to go now.” When words did not work on their own, she started pantomiming, assuming different positions to convey her message.

Finally, after many tries, the man seemed to understand her. “Uloba?” he asked, still grinning.

Out of desperation, Jenna nodded frantically. “Yes... err... uloba.” She was hoping they were on the same page.

Using just an index finger, he beckoned for her to follow. She walked after him, feeling trepidation in every step. As it turned out, uloba did refer to toilet. During her short trip to the outhouse behind one of the sleeping quarters, she was relieved at first – then shocked by the state of it.

The outhouse was a rickety, wooden shack without a door. And when she got close enough, the stench nearly made her vomit. “Argh, that’s wretched, ” she cried.

“Uloba, ” the guard said, pointing to the outhouse.

She clenched her fists and tried her best to ignore the assault on her senses. Just do it already.

However, another problem presented itself once she was was inside the outhouse. The guard was still standing there, watching her intently. In fact, he was maneuvering himself to get a better view.

Jenna gave a disarming smile. “Can I have some privacy, please?”

He replied in his own language again, but did not budge.

Oh no...

For a few seconds she was completely flabbergasted – unable to continue and at the same time, unable to wait any longer. Desperately, she asked once more: “Can you leave, please?”

This time there was no response. The man’s smile was gone.

Jenna felt a flutter in her belly as she leaned down to pull the thong down to her knees. She was aware of the man’s eyes burning into her.

For the next minute or so, she sat there on the grimy, porcelain toilet as the guard watched. When that was done, Jenna pulled up the thong as quickly as humanly possible. After stumbling out of the outhouse, she avoided looking at the guard and moved along.

She was fearing the worst for some reason. The guard was talking again, mostly to himself, but he stayed in place and merely studied her curiously as she walked back to the sleeping quarters.

Jenna was scared out of her wits. What was going to happen to her? She did not want to stay here in the colony. As much as she tried to remain calm, the pressure was getting to her. When she got back to her bed (if it could even be called hers), she lifted the gray blanket and climbed in. The other whites had already done the same.

Clearly the idea of prancing around with just a thong was not appealing to civilized human beings. It was completely unnecessary, she thought. What was the meaning of stripping away human decency? Unless the tribal men had no shred of human decency. Evidence would suggest that they did not.

Till now, Jenna had projected as much serenity as she could afford. Yet, when the blanket reached her chin, she broke down into silent sobs. She wanted her parents to tell her everything was going to be okay – just a few words of consolation would be enough.

Instead, her nightmarish thoughts began plaguing her, reminding her of everything that had been lost. The gravity of the situation had not yet sunk in. Jenna was staring down the abyss, but was not inside it yet.

Perhaps, in the back of her mind, she was still expecting this to be some kind of prank. The judge and the prison guards were all in on it...right? This was candid camera?

Except, this was no joke. Nobody was laughing.

She must have dozed off without realizing it, because all of a sudden a loud whistle brought her back to consciousness. To her it felt like a blink of an eye, yet when she looked out the door, the sky had turned from bright–blue to a hazy orange hue.

EIGHT

Favo had been spending the remainder of the day with the prisoners at the quarry. And while he was away from the camp, he was constantly thinking about the gorgeous, young girl with the blonde hair and big, blue eyes. She was so tall and so beautiful – the ultimate, forbidden fruit, he kept musing to himself.

Back in the colonial days, the races had been segregated. Even when Favo was living in the city, there were precious few opportunities to spy on white females, never-mind see them without their clothes on. Now the barrier was gone.

All the while, he had been using his time away from the camp to scheme. Favo was not particularly smart. In fact, he had almost nothing going for him. So bad was his reputation, the villagers had quietly been mocking him all these years. They all thought he was a loser, and unfortunately they were right.

Jenna Miller was on the opposite end of the spectrum. She was very young, very beautiful and probably accomplished as well. No doubt her father had spared no expense raising her, giving her the best possible education.

So a fifty–one–year–old tribal man had no right fantasizing about a seventeen–year–old, white girl like Jenna. Except, circumstances had changed drastically, and for once fortune was smiling down on him. Granted, he was still reaching for the moon.

But why not try, he thought. The girl was alone and vulnerable. And once she started working at the quarry, she would realize just how impossibly hard her life was going to become.

Favo was planning on making a move...soon. Timing was paramount, however. If he tried to proposition now, the girl would tell him to take a hike. Why wouldn’t she?

He was an aging, out–of–shape tribal man with a speech impediment. Jenna’s situation would have to deteriorate quite a bit before she even considered becoming his slave wife. He was willing to help the situation along, off course. In the back of his mind, Favo knew to what depths he could sink to get his way. He was that resolute.

He and his guards marched the prisoners from the quarry back to the camp. It was a slow process because the prisoners were knackered. Once they arrived, he ordered them to form a line, as usual.

Then he blew his whistle.

A few seconds later, the new inmates emerged from the building in staggered groups. Jenna was not among any of them, so Favo blew the whistle again. This time she came walking out, seemingly groggy after taking a nap.

“Everybody stand to attention, ” he barked. “You know the drill...hands to the side.”

They all complied – the new prisoners somewhat more reluctantly. Favo straightened his tunic and squared his shoulders, making it clear that he was meaning business. He nonchalantly made his was to the end of the queue, where Jenna was standing.

“You will now receive your daily meal. Eat well, ” he added, trying to sound as ominous as possible. He glanced at Jenna and was enjoying her disconsolate expression. As soon as she saw him looking at her, the corner of her lip started curling.

He appreciated her firm breasts for a brief moment longer and then started walking back to the center of the line.

He made them wait like that. Favo was a sadist – something that he had not realized of himself until he became a prison guard. He enjoyed watching people suffer. And now that his camp had white prisoners, it made him even happier.

The other white females were attractive (although not as attractive as young Jenna). They were generally tall as well and ranged in a variety of ages. One was in her late teens while another was in her early twenties. The rest were much older, perhaps in their mid to late thirties.

Either way, he imagined that the older ones were all married. Maybe they had children in some of the other camps as well.

The white men were just as varied in age and appearance. The first one that stood out was the young guy who had earlier received some discipline from the blunt end of a nightstick. He did not seem nearly as dignified wearing just a thong and sandals, Favo reckoned.

In fact, he was a good match for Jenna in terms of physical appearance. He was tall and athletic, with a mane of wavy, blonde hair that reached down to his shoulders. Too bad he was incarcerated, otherwise he and the girl might have made a cute couple.

Two of his guards were bringing the ‘slop’ from the kitchen – each one carrying the steel pot by its large handles.

“Alright, go fetch your bowls, ” he ordered. “For those of you who are new, your bowls are under your beds. ”

The experienced prisoners knew how to behave, dismissing themselves quietly before setting off towards the buildings behind them, in a very orderly fashion. And the new arrivals wisely took their queues from them.

His gaze followed Jenna when she started walking back to her sleeping quarters. He just loved the way her thong was cutting through her ass crack. Evidently, she had given up trying to readjust it, instead allowing it to hang low (as it was meant to). And the way her hips were swaying with her wonderfully long strides – phew, he was getting a hard boner again.

She, along with the other prisoners, came out soon after holding their bowls. He started giggling when a few of the whites were asking: “But what about utensils?”

The guards had already set the pot down on the hard gravel. They stirred it several times and then called for the prisoners to step forward. One by one, the inmates received their daily ration, a vegetable broth that served as nothing more than nutritional substance. It was bland in both smell and taste.

Eventually, Jenna’s turn came around. She grimly accepted her broth as the guard scooped it into her bowl with a ladle. She was pulling her pretty face into a frown.

Meanwhile, the new prisoners were learning proper food “etiquette”, which was to drink directly out of the bowl. Some of them were appalled, although in the end they had no choice in the matter. Jenna retreated away from the crowd and drank down her slop. She was not enjoying it.

The girl had never experienced hardship in her life, that much was obvious. It must have been quite a shock getting the rug pulled out from under her.

After all, what did she have? Nothing. Everything was taken from her, including her clothes.

Favo did not care about her. He had no reason to care...yet. Maybe once she belonged to him, his cold heart would warm a little.

He expected three impediments to his goal of conquering the girl. The first one was obvious...Jenna. She was still in her superior mindset, so he would need to work on taking her down a few pegs. The second was the village elder. What Favo had in mind was unprecedented. Add to that the sordid history between Wambazi’s races, and suddenly his ambitious plan seemed destined for failure.

Op top of all that, he would still require permission from officials in the city. Bureaucracy always slowed things down, and this urged him to set the wheels in motion post–haste.

He was expecting things to go wrong, as they inevitably did. After all, this was not the first time the colony had received female prisoners. And his attempts to find a wife from their ranks had been squelched before.

The regime had changed, however. So there was a very slim chance that things would go his way for once.

Either way, he was going through with his plan – come hell or high water. The worst that could happen was that he failed. It was highly doubtful that his superiors would punish him for merely expressing interest in the white girl. Maybe some of them would raise their eyebrows though.

If it worked, his reward was going to be huge. Jenna Miller was a nearly–impossible prize for most white men, never-mind a low-slung tribal man with so many years behind him.

He stared at her with longing. It was frustrating, because his loins were aching to ravish her. Favo must have blown three loads in his briefs by now, yet his cock was threatening to erupt again.

In a way he was relieved when she disappeared into the building. It allowed his overworked manhood to catch a break.

Before going home, he went to the superintendent’s office. It was at the back of the modest administrative building. Favo explained his intentions to the man, who was intrigued.

“You want to marry this white girl?” the superintendent asked with a sly grin.

“Yes, Adoman, ” he replied.

“Remind me, how old is she again?”

“Seventeen.”

Adoman’s eyes widened. “Seventeen? My, you’re a hopeful one, aren’t you?” Favo did not sense judgment from the man – more a playful jest.

He smiled a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I am.”

“And have you told her anything yet?”

Favo shook his head. “No.”

The superintendent made himself comfortable in his leaning chair and broke out into gravelly laughter. “That’s smart of you, ” he said. “You first want to get your ducks in a row.”

He had known Adoman since childhood. The man was older than him, and perhaps the closest thing he had as a friend. They weren’t exactly kindred spirits, but they got along well enough – at least as well as colleagues could.

“Her father is a rich industrialist...at least, he was, ” Adoman added. “He’s only forty-two and he’s already achieved more than a thousand men combined. It will be hard to impress his daughter.”

“I’m not going to impress her, ” Favo admitted. “I’m going to offer her freedom from the colony. That should be enough.”

“And then you’re going to turn her into a village slave. Still, I suppose it’s better than getting worked to death in the quarry.” He squinted his dark, experienced eyes up at Favo and chortled again. “You are really being ambitious, going after a white girl so young. I bet she’s going to be surprised when you make the offer.”

Favo could not contain his pleasure. “I’m sure she will. Jenna must think that blacks are beneath her.”

“Exactly. But it will be nice to see a colonial bitch get her just desserts for a change, ” Adoman said. “My grandfather was murdered by a British regiment when I was a small boy. Did I tell you before?”

“No. Never.”

“He was whipped to death, in front of his fellow tribesmen. Apparently they were making an example out of him.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Harsh?” Adoman responded incredulously. “That’s fucking murder. What you have in store for this privileged princess doesn’t even compare. But whatever it is, I hope you humiliate her. I Hope you make an example out of her.”

Favo nodded enthusiastically. “If it makes you happy, I will.”

“Good. Now, how will you convince the elder?”

“I don’t know yet. It may help if you put in a few words. The geezer always liked you.”

The superintendent thought about it and shrugged. “Okay. Fine. And I’ll make a phone call to see if my new bosses approve. Chances are, they won’t at first. But I’m a persuasive person. And I don’t think you’ll have as much resistance this time, now that the old politicians have been disposed of.”

“How do you know?”

Adoman smiled. “Just a calculated guess. I heard through the grapevine that the guerrilla forces hate white people. They want to either chase them away or exterminate them. It’s the reason they have so much support throughout the country. Even if Britain and Europe makes noise regarding the treatment of whites in Wambazi, I doubt whether this will stop the new rulers.”

“I wasn’t aware of this, ” Favo said.

“There’s many things going on that neither of us are aware of. It’s pure chaos out there. But one thing’s for sure, it’s not a good time to be white in this country. Now, go home and let me take care of formalities. I’ll talk with your elder tomorrow morning, okay?”

Favo was happy to have Adoman fighting in his corner. He was smiling broadly when he left the man’s office.

NINE

Jenna suffered a restless sleep during the night. The strange smells and sounds had alarmed her senses – reminded her that she was in an alien place. By the time morning came, she was already half awake and looking up at the moldy ceiling.

Nevertheless, her heart started fluttering when she heard the camp leader blowing his loud whistle. Some of the other guards were making noises as well, stirring unsuspecting prisoners from their slumber.

She did not want to get up. As long as she remained under the blanket, nobody could see her naked body.

Jenna moved her hands down to her hips, feeling the fabric of the ineffectual thong against her skin. A long sigh escaped from her.

She was naked, wasn’t she? This lar–ten (or whatever it was called) was nothing more than a near–invisible slip. As her eyes glimpsed the other prisoners getting out of bed, she realized just how naked they all were.

It was bad enough if you were a man, she thought. But surely the colony needed to provide the female prisoners with brassieres at least. For Pete’s sake, she was a teenage girl!

“Everybody get up and make up your beds!” a guard screamed, beating his nightstick loudly against the door frame.

Oh God.

Jenna struggled up from under her blanket. The blood started rushing to her face once her concealment was gone. But she put on her sandals and hastily straightened her bed’s linens.

“C’mon. Everybody out!” the guard shouted urgently.

The prisoners rushed out and she followed after them, falling in line as soon as she was outside. The despicable, old African was there as expected. He was still holding his whistle in hand, only dropping it to hang from his necklace when he seemed satisfied by the growing congregation.

Inmates were emerging from all five buildings and forming regiments. Jenna sort of fell in line, just like all the other newbies.

“Alright, hands to the side!” the camp leader bellowed in his nigh–unintelligible voice. “We have a long day ahead of us! We march now...and no talking!”

They were led to the camp gate in a double row. Jenna was filled with trepidation, feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter.

This was not the same gate she had arrived in the day before. This one led through an open corridor with high cement walls. At the end of the corridor, prisoners were being handed pickaxes.

She accepted her pickaxe gingerly, unsure of how to hold it at first. This was happening, she realized with dismay.

They all emerged into an open field, on a narrow footpath leading from the exit. It wound towards a distant, barren hill that seemed to be covered in a gray dust cloud. That was it?

“Move along, ” a guard yelled at them in broken English.

Jenna was wondering why she hadn’t spotted prisoners from the other camps yet. She took a chance and asked the inmate marching next to her, who was an African of medium height.

“Where are the others?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Don’t talk to me, ” he whispered hoarsely. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

Jenna persisted. “Look, I’m sorry. But I have family members in the other camps. I’m just wondering where they are.”

He looked at her askance at first, although his eyes quickly settled on her bare breasts. “There are six quarries that surround the colony, okay? That’s why there are six prisoner camps. ”

The news was heartbreaking. Was she ever going to see her parents again? What about Carla? Was her little sister going through the same ordeal?

The man leaned sideways, towards her. “If I was you, I wouldn’t worry about anyone but myself. A young, white girl is prime meat around here, especially one as pretty as you.”

“What?” she asked indignantly.

“I’m just giving fair warning. Nobody’s going to watch out for you. The guards don’t give a shit what happens to us. I’ve seen a prisoner get strangled by another prisoner in broad daylight, and the guards just stood there as if enjoying a show.”

“That’s horrible.”

“The lucky ones get killed, ” he said, licking his lips. “Others end up getting turned out.”

“Turned out?”

He gave a suggestive smile. “Do I have to spell it out?”

She gave an involuntary gasp. “You mean...”

“Yes, you’ll wind up someone’s bitch.”

“Never, ” she mouthed back.

“You sure? You think you’re special because you’re a white female? Have you noticed that you’re wearing the same uniform as all the other prisoners?”

Jenna decided that she did not like the man any more. She ignored him for the rest of the march, although she could sense his intense gaze burning into her.

The quarry consisted of a patchwork of trenches. These trenches were cut deep into the hillside and barely wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. Loose rubble was gathered and put into mechanical lifts that were operated by crank arms.

After the prisoners were escorted up the incline, they were dispersed across the entire hillside. She was separated from the others and pointed to her allocated spot. “You go there, ” a guard barked at her. “Go down and work.”

Tentatively, she walked along the edge until she found a rickety ladder. Here goes.

Only halfway down did she realize that discarding the pickaxe would make it easier to climb. When Jenna reached the bottom, she was immediately confronted by new–found claustrophobia. It felt like the stone walls would close in on her.

The guard looked down from the top. “Hit the rock and put the stone in the container.”

“Where?” she asked, feeling hopeless.

He laughed and pointed with his index finger towards the mechanical lift. “Over there.”

“Do I have to carry the rocks?”

The guard grimaced and waved her off dismissively. “Get to work.”

Jenna was at a loss, but she managed to gather her strength and aim at the trench wall with her pickaxe. Raising the tool high over her head, she brought it down with all of her might and connected. However, only a few splinters broke off.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, ” the guard rebuked her.

“I’m trying, ” she shot back.

“Try harder.”

She gritted her teeth and used even more force than before. Once again, her efforts resulted in just a few more splinters falling to the ground.

“If you don’t work harder, ” the guard threatened, “I’ll call the camp leader to punish you.”

Oh no, anything but that, Jenna thought. She focused her aim on the rock face and slammed the pickaxe against it. The result was the same.

She cried out in frustration. How could the prison guards expect her to do the same work as a man? It was crazy.

Her arms were already aching – her hands were burning. Yet she had made no progress. Jenna leaned forward against the hard wall, feeling lost and hopeless.

It was not long after when she heard a forbidding voice reverberating from above. It seemed the guard had called the camp leader after all. Her throat started to constrict and her heart began beating faster.

Favo Ugbula was speaking in his own language, but she could tell that he was miffed. Once he showed his ugly face, peaking down over the threshold, her suspicions were confirmed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, switching to English again.

Jenna suddenly had the urge to conceal herself, but she resisted and stared back bravely. “I can’t do it...sir. I don’t think I’m cut out for work in the quarry.”

“If you don’t work, you don’t eat, ” he replied bluntly.

“But...but isn’t there something else I could do? I would do anything if it meant getting away from here.”

Favo paused for a moment. “Like what?”

“I dunno. How about filing or general secretarial work?”

She was grasping at straws. But what other choice did she have? Her body was not equipped for manual labor.

The man disappeared for a moment, exchanging gibberish with his guard. Then he stuck out his head again. “Get out, ” he ordered.

What was going on, she wondered. Was she in trouble? Would the camp leader consider her plea? She was conflicted, yet hopeful for a better deal. Anything but this.

Favo stared at her when she climbed up from the trench. Sternly, he said: “Follow me.”

TEN

He hadn’t expected things to come together so quickly. Adoman’s influence had won him favor with the village elder and with the new bureaucrats back in the city. The good news had come with a few provisos, however, most notably that Jenna remained within the confines of the tribal lands. She was still a prisoner, regardless of her status outside the colony.

The village elder had also made it clear that she was to serve the village, if she chose to become Favo’s wife, which was an entirely different matter.

Either way, the only thing he lacked now was her consent. It would have been nice to force her into submission, but unfortunately the tribal laws did not work that way. Either he had to buy her from someone or she had to promise herself willingly.

Somehow he doubted Jenna would simply conscript herself into slavery, even if it was better than working in the quarry. Yet, now was as good a time as ever to plant the seed.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her naked form with eagerness. Yes, she was wearing the thong, but it covered so little that it hardly mattered.

And he was aware that the girl was self–conscious about it. Every now and again she would tentatively move her arm to strategically shield her breasts from his hungry gaze. Then she would drop it once she realized how pointless it was.

After all, he had already seen her without clothes. He had fully immersed himself with the shape of her breasts – the alluring curves of her hips.

Her face was stunning as well: Bright, blue eyes with naturally long lashes, a delicate nose that was slightly upturned at the tip, high cheek bones and beautiful, pouty, pink lips.

In short, she effortlessly resembled those billboard models that used to titillate him back in the city. But she was a real person. Oh God, he wanted to ravish her.

Instead, he calmly led her to the main office building that served as the central hub for the colony. This was where the administration staff worked during the day.

It was accessible from many entrances, but Favo chose the side entrance near the main gate, which was the same one Adoman had used the day before, when he had addressed the prisoners for the first time. This required walking around to the front, but he did not mind.

The grounds surrounding the quarry had barbed–wire fencing as well, so it was not like prisoners could simply run away. And the trek to the main office building passed through several gates, which all had to be opened by guards from the other side.

Eventually he and the girl arrived, walking up the porch. Then he opened the double door and ushered her inside. Everything was archaic by design. There were no computers or cellphones. Adoman was the only one who could make calls from his private office, and only for official business.

Jenna seemed to cringe when she saw the personnel working behind their ebony desks. The colony had three clerks – all men and all of them wearing their traditional tunics, just like Favo.

They were staring, and their eyes were still following after the girl when he stopped in front of his office, at the start of the hallway. “After you, ” he said, opening the door.

For a moment, she nervously rubbed the back of her neck. If there was hesitation on her part, she buried it quickly enough, most certainly because she was desperate.

He admired her beautiful bum and then walked in, closing the door behind him. Then he casually walked past the trembling, young girl and settled down behind his desk.

Jenna seemed to look around as if wondering if she could sit down as well. There was an armchair in the corner, but Favo did not offer it. Instead he leaned forward and crossed his arms on the desk’s surface. All the while, he was studying the embarrassed girl intently.

Then he cleared his throat. “Tell me again why you don’t want to work.”

Jenna’s mouth dropped open. “It’s not that I don’t want to work...um...sir. I just don’t think I can work in the quarry.”

“Really? You think you can do whatever you want.”

Her big, innocent eyes widened. “No, that’s not it...err...sir. I can do many other jobs.”

“You don’t get to decide what jobs we give you.”

“But look at me. I’m just seventeen. And I’m female. How can you expect me to do the same work as a man?”

Favo shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” she asked with an incredulous expression.

“No, why would I? You’re a privileged, white girl who thinks she can order others around. I bet you’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

She started to speak and then paused to think momentarily. “No, ” was all that she could come up with.

Favo laughed at her expense. “Look, we have all the admin staff we need in the building, and the only one with a phone is the superintendent, and he’s not going to let you near it. So I’m afraid you’re gonna have to go back to the quarry.”

Jenna looked shattered all of a sudden. “Please, I simply can’t do it. I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” he asked.

She nodded. “Anything, sir.”

He pretended to think about the girl’s proposal. “There is one...wait, no...you won’t like it.”

“What...what?” she asked, with hope flickering in her sparkling eyes.

The moment of truth had arrived. Favo maintained his composure and said: “You could always become a slave in my village.”

“A slave?” she asked nervously, balling her fists.

Favo nodded. “But first you will have to become my wife.”

If a penny dropped, he would have been able to hear it fall. The young girl looked at him strangely. “What?” she asked with a curl of her lip. “Your wife?”

“Yeah, I’m the oldest, available man in the camp, so I have privileges over the other guards. I get to make the offer. But you’re probably not interested, ” he added, waving it off nonchalantly.

She was still shocked and trying to process the information. “I would be your wife?” she said, clearly disgusted. “Why would I want to be your wife?”

“Outsiders cannot join the tribe, not even as slaves. They have to marry a member first. ”

“Are you serious?”

“Definitely. Off course, you would have to earn your keep in the village, you know...do menial work like cleaning toilets and herding animals.”

“That’s impossible, ” the girl replied, suddenly angry.

“Why?”

“W–well...look at you.”

He laughed inwardly. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re...you’re black, ” she blurted out. “And you’re so old.”

“I’m fifty–one, ” Favo said, waiting for her response with anticipation.

“You’re fifty–one?”

He nodded to the affirmative.

“And you think...you and I...there’s just no way, ” she stammered. It looked like she was suppressing the urge to vomit. “I’m still a child. How could you even imagine that I would be interested in you...that way? That’s horrible!” she shrieked. Favo was sure the three clerks could hear her falsetto voice.

He shrugged and sat back in his chair. “I don’t care what you think. I heard your offer and you heard my counter–offer. Now, if you’re done, I’ll take you back to the quarry.”

“Wait!” she interjected. That one word was music to his ears.

“Wait?” he asked, trying to appear unassuming. “What for?”

Jenna waved her elegant hands in a disarming fashion. “Can’t I just work in your village, without having to marry you?”

“No, ” he replied abruptly.

The girl closed her eyes and started weeping quietly. She was showing her age – being unable to control her emotions. Tears were slowly running down her pretty cheeks and gathering at her chin.

“Please, have some compassion, ” she said, still whimpering. “I should not even be here. I did nothing wrong.”

“You were living off the fat of the country, weren’t you? I bet many Africans suffered so that your family could live comfortably in your mansion.”

“My father worked hard for his money, ” she said with outrage. “He never stole from anybody.”

“Then why are you here?”

Again, the girl was caught between two minds. Using her forearm, she wiped the wetness from her face and then managed to stitch together a sentence. “I...I...I think we were framed. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

Favo decided to press the advantage. “Really?”

She sniffed. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right. You forgot your place when you were yelling in my office. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I...I...I was just upset, sir.”

He shot up from his desk and deftly stepped around it to confront the girl. She hastily started retreating until she was backing up against the wall. Her face revealed a mixture of surprise and anxiety.

But Favo wanted to show his dominance over the once–proud, white teenager. He kept moving forward until there was hardly any space left between them. Because Jenna was so much taller, he was at eye level with her perfectly–formed breasts. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her small, pink nipples.

Yet, as excited as they were making him feel, Favo managed to contain himself. “Never yell at me again, do you hear me?”

The girl nodded fiercely. “Yes, sir. I understand...although I wasn’t yelling at you–”

“Quiet!” he shouted, cutting her off. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

“No, ” she said defensively. “I mean, no sir.”

He looked her up and down, enjoying her naked splendor. “You better not. A white girl such as yourself can’t afford to have pride. Not when she literally owns nothing and can’t even earn her keep. I’ll give you two days to decide...stay here in the colony for the next twenty–five years or join me in my village as my wife.”

She started shivering when he mentioned the word “wife”. Her mouth was agape and her eyes grown wide as Favo verbalized her options. She had a visibly pained expression.

ELEVEN

Jenna was in misery for the rest of the day. After the despicable camp leader had escorted her back to the hillside outside the prison, she went back to work.

Or rather, she tried to work. All that she had to show for it were cramped muscles and blisters on her palms. She barely made half of her daily quota.

It was not due to a lack of effort either. Jenna really wanted to prove to herself that she could do it. But always in the back of her mind, she was reminded of the truth. Twenty–five years was a long time... too long to endure in such an arduous place.

Eventually the quarry was going to get the better of her. She knew it. That ugly African knew it as well.

She was incensed by his arrogance, thinking that the two of them could ever be husband and wife. He, a fifty–one–year–old black midget, wanted her to become his wife. Outrageous, she thought.

However, her rational mind was asking all kinds of questions – the types of questions she could not answer easily. The biggest one was, would she take Favo up on his offer?

While she had been toiling away in the trenches, the question kept repeating itself, only to be suppressed over and over.

She was desperate for an alternative...anything, besides having to become Favo’s concubine. There was hope that the new regime would recall the prison sentences, but it was a meager hope.

There was hope that Western countries would intervene on the behalf of Wambazi’s whites. The problem was that Europe and America had become weighed down with political correctness. Yet, even if by some miracle the white prisoners did receive clemency, such things took time...maybe months.

And she did not have that much time. Jenna suspected that she could hold out for a few days at best. She was not cut out for life in the colony.

As expected, she did not get to eat in the afternoon. The guards had been notified of her “behavior” and calmly bypassed her when she was standing ready with her bowl. She got a few sympathetic gazes from fellow prisoners, especially the whites.

Yet, what could they realistically do to help? They were in the same boat as Jenna. And unsurprisingly, none of the women had made their quotas.

They were all extremely tired. All around her, shoulders were sagging and faces were dropping.

Jenna wanted to retreat to her bed. But by now she knew that prisoners were supposed to stay together during mealtimes, even if some of them did not get to eat. The guards kept close watch around them, ensuring that none of them strayed from the group.

She was still embarrassed by her nudity – desperately wanted to escape from the prying eyes that repeatedly fell on her.

Ominously, she recalled the brief but dreaded conversation with that prisoner – the one who had warned her of the “others”. For all she knew, he was one of them.

If anybody tried to force her into sex...what would she do? Would she give in or would she fight? Surely she would fight, right? Or would she?

What would be worse? Getting raped by dozens of men or being the wife of Favo Ugbula? She could not believe that she was actually contemplating something as awful as that.

It was crazy – only a day after arriving at the colony, Jenna Miller was being confronted by the most horrendous scenario imaginable.

She, a seventeen–year–old teenager, had been propositioned by a fifty–one–year–old tribal man who barely reached her shoulders. Yes, he was ugly as sin. He could barely talk. He had a faint odor of faecal matter about him.

But despite all of that, Jenna could not merely put everything behind her. She was in a heap of trouble – something that she was not equipped to handle. Even a week ago, she would never have imagined herself being here of all places, standing so exposed and being confronted by so much.

What was she going to do? Was it even in her hands? The more she tried to wrap her mind around it, the more she realized, there was really only two options left to her. And she was not ready to simply give in and hand herself over.

Back in his office, Favo was smiling to himself. He had played his part to perfection. He was not expecting her to capitulate. Why would she? She was Jenna Miller – the white girl with the silver spoon in her mouth. To her, he was the equivalent of a lowly insect.

The fact that she was a prisoner in the colony was not enough to bring her down to his level. Not even close.

And she was clearly going to try and make her daily quotas from now on. After missing a meal, that would be motivation enough, he thought wisely. Young Jenna was going to fail regardless, but it didn’t matter in her case, because she would have to be at death’s door before giving in to Favo’s proposal.

He didn’t expect anything less from the proud girl.

For the time being, he decided to leave matters as they were – to let the young girl stew in her unhappiness. However, he was already working on a devious plan, in case the girl refused to reconsider his proposal.

The longer she stayed, the higher the chance that some of the prisoners would try something. The colony was not a safe place.

Experience had taught him all he needed to know. Jenna had a week (maybe less) before the jackals closed in on her. No doubt some of them were planning to assail the white females. After all, it was not just Jenna whose life was in danger.

However, his devious plan involved using those jackals for his own benefit. It was a calculated risk, he knew. But a few bribes would certainly get their cooperation.

It was late in the afternoon when his shift was over. He left his office and waved goodbye to the staff. They all knew what was going on. Favo’s ambitious plan had slowly filtered down through the grapevine.

Many of them were looking at him with new–found respect. Some were dubious that a man of his means could convince a white girl to become his wife. They did not say it, but it was evident from their expressions.

Favo made the lonely trek back to his village and went through the same routine he always did. He went home, took off his tunic, made himself something to eat and walked around in his boxer briefs.

There was not much to do, besides reading some comic books that had been recycled from the landfill.

All the while, he was thinking...scheming...planning. It was the first in a long time that he actually had to consider the future. He made himself comfortable on his queen–sized bed and meticulously went over every detail in his mind.

Yes, he was not smart, but he was cunning when the situation called for it. For once he had the upper hand over someone, and he was going to use his leverage wisely. Years of disappointment had taught him the art of knowing when to fight for something. And by God, he was going to fight tooth and nail to get what he wanted.

TWELVE

Jenna did not reach her quota the next day, despite a Herculean effort on her part. She barely filled half a wheelbarrow with stone before emptying it into the container.

Back at the camp, the women could only look on with dismay while the men stood ready with their bowls. And she was right there beside them, quivering with anxiety. All that effort – the blisters on her palms, the pain in her shoulders. It had been for naught.

What was she going to do?

For just a second, a mocking image of Favo was flashing in her mind, reminding her of his offer.

No, no, no. Never!

He was never going to get close to her again, she thought with grim determination.

But that night, when she went to bed hungry, her thoughts turned very bleak. And she kept thinking: What am I going to do?

In the end, she could do nothing but slowly cry herself to sleep.

The next morning, Jenna was woken by that damn whistle again. She got up, feeling more miserable than ever as she was making the bed. The ugly African was waiting outside to meet the prisoners, and as usual his eyes were lingering in her general direction.

Why was he was always there, she thought angrily. Couldn’t he at least stare at the other women? Anyone but her, for Pete’s sake!

The ugly, tribal man maintained a calm demeanor at all times – maybe even a satisfied smirk as he went about surveying the prisoners. “The superintendent is getting impatient with you women, ” he mumbled. “You better pull your weight from now on, ” he continued, “or there will be trouble. Am I understood?”

The female prisoners exchanged troubled glances.

“I didn’t hear you!” Favo bellowed.

“Yes, sir, ” they all replied.

“Louder, ” he barked.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good, now form a line.”

Having never known hardship, Jenna was in unfamiliar territory. All that she could think about was how unfair it was. She, who had never done anything wrong, was being punished for her father’s alleged crimes.

Obviously her father was innocent. He had been persecuted because of his success. The blacks were angry because they could never do what he did as a businessman.

She hated the blacks, especially these useless, tribal blacks with their stupid tunics. And above all, she hated Favo Ugbula.

The indignity of being propositioned by someone like him.

How did he have the nerve to even try?

Her anger almost boiled over when he was slurring through that little speech of his. She wanted to scream expletives – tell him to sterilize himself or drown in the nearest river. But what would be the point?

As much as Jenna despised him, no amount of satisfaction would justify getting a nightstick pommeled into her stomach.

She just stood there, almost naked and unprotected from the morning sun. Then she followed the line to the exit, stopping only to receive her pickaxe.

Once her grueling day started, however, her anger soon faded, only to be replaced by desperation. She used all of her might to break stone from the quarry walls, barely pausing to wipe the dust from her face.

Almost halfway through her shift, however, she heard a blood-curdling scream, not far from where she was working. It belonged to someone with a high-pitched voice – a woman.

“Carry on, ” the guard told her in broken English.

She looked up at him from the trench. “But what’s that scream?”

“It’s not important. Don’t stop working.”

Jenna sighed and lifted the pickaxe to strike the wall, but then she heard it again – a piercing, feminine wail.

This time she couldn’t ignore it. She started moving to her left – the direction of the unknown woman.

“Get back to work!” the guard ordered. “You’ll get me in trouble.”

“But...but...someone might be hurt.”

“Someone always gets hurt in this place, white girl. It’s not your concern.”

Jenna gritted her teeth and returned to her spot. She was feeling glum, but also concerned for the woman, who was probably lying somewhere in the ditch.

After that it was back to the slog.

Favo was keeping watch at the catchment area, and when he saw her delivering the stone with her wheelbarrow, he gave a knowing smile. He seemed to be far more confident than a man of his stature could afford. Yet, there he stood with his arms folded across his fat chest.

Ugly bastard, she thought secretly.

Nobody was surprised when her allotment came up short, least of all herself. She had tried her best, but for the third time in a row her effort had been fruitless.

Her hope was running out. She was praying that at least one of the Western countries would step in and negotiate freedom for the whites. It didn’t have to be Britain or America.

Off course, she was completely cut off from the outside world, so it was impossible to tell what was happening. Maybe some kind of deal was already in the works...maybe.

At this point she was clutching at straws, but what else was left?

Something distracted her - a commotion approaching from the quarry behind her. When Jenna turned to see what was happening, she was shocked to see two guards carrying a dead woman down the hill. Her neck was too slack and wrung at too strange an angle to suggest otherwise.

It was one of the black women, and her lar-ten was missing. Jenna could only guess what had happened. Maybe a prisoner had jumped and raped her. But why kill her?

There was no way a guard couldn’t have intervened to save the woman. Then she remembered that conversation from a few days ago. The guards got pleasure from watching prisoners murdering one another.

If that was true, she was in way more trouble than anticipated.

“Ever seen a dead person before?”

She jumped and swung back, only to be confronted by Favo. He must’ve walked closer when her back was turned, and now his deep, black eyes were staring at her with interest.

“Ever seen a dead person before?” he asked again.

“No. I mean, no, sir.”

He smiled again, revealing those worn, yellow teeth of his. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached down to his side pocket and retrieved a piece of paper. It was a page torn from a newspaper. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” she asked, quivering with apprehension.

“Just read it.”

THIRTEEN

Favo watched with glee as the girl’s pretty eyes widened.

Young Jenna was shaking her head in denial, but she kept reading.

One of the new politicians had come to inspect the colony earlier this morning, probably to see how much money could be made for the regime. Before he returned to the city, however, he handed his morning newspaper to the superintendent, as a parting gift.

In turn, the superintendent called Favo some time later, highlighting one story in particular. And now Jenna was reading the exact same article.

Favo wasn’t particularly good at reading English, but he got the abbreviated version straight from the superintendent’s mouth, who said that European countries had no intention of rescuing the whites living in Wambazi, stating that this was an internal issue that they hoped would be resolved soon.

More than likely it had been a strategic decision. Wambazi was an exporter of sought-after minerals, like precious opals, diamonds and coal. European countries didn’t want to risk losing access, even if it meant throwing hundreds of whites under the proverbial bus.

He was smart enough to know - this was good news for him.

And from the way Jenna was bordering on tears, she must have realized as well...her last shot at freedom was gone. Nobody was coming to rescue her.

He cleared his throat. “So, two days have passed.”

Jenna winced. Her face was shivering.

“C’mon, ” he pressed. “You had two days to decide.”

“And marry you?” she said in an accusing tone, as if it would be the worst thing imaginable.

“Would you rather stay here in the colony?”

Her mouth was agape as she looked askance at the dead woman being carried back to the prison. He could guess what she was thinking.

“I’m waiting, ” he said calmly.

Her eyes snapped back, this time with vitriolic abandon. “You think I would marry a stupid, ugly kaffer like you? You’re abusing your position here to coerce me and I hate you! Why don’t you leave me alone?”

Her last few words were loud enough to draw attention from nearby guards. Favo was taken aback by the young girl’s outrage – so much so that he retreated a few steps.

Immediately he felt humiliated...angry...incensed. But he kept a calm facade. Instead of saying something that he might regret later, he simply turned about face and waved to his underlings, who were exchanging stunned expressions.

Then he walked past them and headed towards the gate leading to the main building.

Favo kicked his desk as soon as the door was closed behind him.

The haughty, white girl had actually called him a “kaffer” in front of his staff. In his younger years, it had been a common occurrence. He’d been working several gigs as a construction worker, and one of his white foremen used to call him “Favo the ugly kaffer”. The nickname spread, and soon even his fellow black workers made fun of him.

It was one of the reasons he came back to his tribe. The constant barrage of insults had gotten the better of him.

And now this privileged, white princess had damaged his esteem in his own backyard. She had spoken to him as if he was an annoying fly. It was the last thing she should’ve done, because now he was wishing to retaliate.

All kinds of thoughts were running through his mind – dangerous thoughts.

He still had the upper hand, didn’t he? He had schemed for this eventuality, and in hindsight, he should’ve known the girl would say no. She was still Jenna Miller, daughter of the rich businessman, whereas he was an aging black with a speech impediment. If women of his own tribe had spurned him so easily, why would this time be different?

So he decided to take matters into his own hands for once. If the girl didn’t want to submit, he would push her into a corner. And if this didn’t work, he would have her disposed of. It was the least he could do, after the way she had embarrassed him.

Before going home, he bribed one of the prisoners with edibles, like chocolates, chips and cookies. As a bonus he threw in a few cigarettes, with a promise of more if everything went as planned. And he had chosen the meanest-looking son-of-a-bitch, with a rap sheet as long as a grocery list.

One of the guards were in on it too, although his involvement came with a straight exchange of cash.

The transaction had cost him a week’s pay, but he knew it was worth it. At the very least he would restore some of his esteem. However, there was a flicker of hope as well...for something more.

FOURTEEN

Jenna was literally shivering with delirium by the time she returned to the camp. In a moment of madness, when she had lost hope, being confronted by Favo had caused her to lose it completely. She had actually called him a “kaffer” to his face...

And somehow nothing had happened.

In a strange way she would’ve understood if her insult had caused the diminutive African to punch her in the gut. The fact that he simply walked away made her extremely ashamed.

Maybe his intentions hadn’t been as premeditated as originally suspected. If that was true, she had exposed herself as a racist for no apparent reason.

A simple no would’ve sufficed, she realized in hindsight.

The k-word was pretty much the worst thing you could call a black person in Wambazi. Yet she had blurted it out without heed for her own safety. That was stupid.

As she was settling back in her sleeping quarters, it started dawning on her that she had nothing left to lose. Her parents and sister were in the same predicament, but kept separate from her. So she was alone, stripped of her clothing and robbed of her privacy.

For the first time since her arrival, Favo wasn’t present during mealtime. Jenna stood there with the other women, who were all as hungry as she. A few were complaining under their breaths, saying things like: “They should at least give me half a portion. I made half of my quota.”

Complaints were pointless, however. These tribesmen were not civilized human beings. They couldn’t be reasoned with because they had no compassion.

Jenna knew that they were all going to starve.

Later on they retreated back to the sleeping quarters, where everything was deathly quiet, as usual. There was always a guard by the door to ensure that nothing untoward was happening, but she suspected it was mostly to keep the whites away from one another. It worked too, because three days after coming to this god-forsaken place, Jenna still didn’t know anybody on a first-name basis.

She was all too happy when nature called. It was amazing that her bladder functioned so many days after her last meal.

Her nudity bothered her immensely, but she scraped her courage together and approached the guard. “Uloba” was all she needed to say.

His dark eyes were scanning her body intensely, and she became perturbed when he was licking off his lips and giving a wolfish grin, but she kept quiet. There was no need to to offend yet another black man, not when her situation was already so precarious.

Eventually he stepped aside, giving Jenna passage to the outside. She sighed, knowing that his gaze was fixed on her as she was walking around the old building. She could almost feel his lecherous eyes burning into her backside.

Pride was not a commodity she could afford, sadly.

At least now she had privacy, even if it was only for a few minutes.

The toilet was smellier than a skunk, so Jenna blocked her nose with one hand as she took off her lar-ten with the other.

She sat there on the discolored, porcelain throne, thinking to herself while the stream was running down between her legs. Somewhere in the sky, a raven was squawking loudly, probably enjoying his freedom. She wouldn’t have minded swapping places with the bird.

There was no need to flush the toilet – it didn’t work. So she quickly pulled up her lar-ten and headed back to the dilapidated building.

However, appearing from her peripheral vision was a dark shadow. It was so sudden that she barely had time to scream as a hand came over to cover her mouth.

A big, black man had her in a tight grip, holding her from behind and half-strangling her neck with his broad forearm.

“If you move I’ll kill you, ” he whispered in a dark, menacing voice. “Do you understand?”

Jenna was panicking.

“Well?” he said, squeezing her neck a little harder.

She nodded out of desperation.

“Good...I’ve never had a white female before.” She felt his one hand fidgeting with her thong, yanking recklessly at its waistband. Before long it was starting to slide down her pelvis. That was when she realized – it’s now or never.

Ferociously she bit down on the hand below her mouth. The man screamed and pulled back instinctively, allowing her enough slack to tear away from his grasp. But just as she was gaining momentum to run back, he tackled her around the knees and brought her down hard against the gravel.

What followed was a desperate struggle between predator and prey – one where Jenna was forcibly turned around on her back. Soon enough she had to fend off flailing fists as the man started striking her. He was incredibly strong.

“Help!” she screamed. “I’m being attacked.”

For the first time she got a good look at her assailant, and he was almost as ugly as Favo, but with a terrifying, mean scowl.

This can’t be happening to me.

Jenna was on her own, and her death would be nothing more than a blip. She imagined herself being carried off, to be disposed into a nameless grave, just like that woman back at the quarry. Despite her depression and cynicism, she had no intention of simply giving up.

One of the man’s fists hit her square on the shoulder, causing her searing pain. To make matters worse, he came down with his full weight, pressing her midriff against the unyielding ground.

“Argh! Help me!”

Finally the guard showed up, walking rather than running in their direction.

“What’s going on here?” he asked in broken English, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“He’s trying to rape me!” Jenna shouted, feeling bewildered.

“Get off her, ” the guard said, barely emoting aside from raising an eyebrow. “You know the rule against fucking.”

As soon as the man rolled away, she lifted herself and sprang into a standing position. “He attacked me, ” she screamed, pointing at him with an accusing finger.

Her shoulder was still smarting, but at least it seemed to be okay. There was going to be a contusion in the morning though. She massaged it with her palm to help soothe the pain away.

The guard just shrugged and replied in broken English: “Okay.”

“Well, ” she said with growing frustration. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you going to punish him?”

“He’s already in prison.”

“But...but he could’ve killed me. What then?”

The guard lifted his shoulders again, this time in an even more dispassionate manner. “People die all the time, especially here in the colony.”

She stared at her attacker, who was now daring to smirk back defiantly. He just stood there, with his arms folded across his chest.

“So you’re just gonna let him go? What if he attacks me again?”

“It happens sometimes, ” the guard said.

“Oh God, ” Jenna moaned. It was at that moment that she had her epiphany. She really didn’t want to die, so nothing good was going to come of her intransigence – nothing at all. She was so hungry, and so frightened, that there really was only one choice left to make.

FIFTEEN

Favo was surprised when Elondo greeted him in front of his office the next morning. “That white girl wants to speak with you, ” he said.

“What for?” he asked, suddenly hopeful.

“It’s about that deal you offered her a few days ago.”

“Why would she change her mind now?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“She was attacked yesterday afternoon. Another prisoner was about to rape her when one of the guards intervened. From what I heard it was touch and go.”

So his plan had worked? His heart started beating a little faster. “Bring her here.”

He could hardly contain himself for the next ten minutes as he waited, pacing up and down in his small office. The anticipation was energizing him.

Finally, when Elondo knocked on his door, Favo sat down behind his desk and grabbed his pen. “Enter, ” he said.

His second-in-command let himself in before gesturing to the young, white girl, who followed him apprehensively. Despite being several inches taller than Elondo, she had never looked more vulnerable.

Favo pretended to be distracted by some paperwork, but in reality he was just scribbling random numbers on a ledger.

The girl stood there in the middle of the floor, nervously massaging her elbow and visibly quivering in her sandals. She had an anguished expression – not too dissimilar from the last time she was in his office. He signaled for Elondo to leave, and the guard nodded with a knowing smile. Then he stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving young Jenna alone with Favo.

“Why are you here?” he asked immediately, wanting to know for certain.

She rolled her eyes and tried to smile. “Err, I was wondering if you would reconsider our deal...sir.”

“Why would I?” he asked, suppressing his initial excitement.

“The way I spoke to you yesterday, ” she replied, waving her palms outwardly, in a disarming manner. “It was inexcusable of me, sir.”

So the princess had decided to prioritize self-preservation ahead of hubris, he thought cynically. This was essentially her last chance for escape, and she had put it off for as long as possible, hoping that someone would rescue her. But the attempted rape (that Favo had orchestrated in secret) must’ve shaken her out of her delusions.

Still, as tempted as he was to simply say yes, he remembered how disdainful she had treated him, as if he was a leper to be avoided – to be shouted at like some creature without feelings.

“That’s not enough, ” he said abruptly. “But let’s ignore that for a moment. Do you remember what I told you about marrying into the tribe? You will have to work for the village as a slave.”

Jenna winced when he said “slave”. But she nodded tentatively.

“You’re going to do work...the kind of work that only the lowest of the low are good for. Are you willing to let go of your ego and accept your new role?”

“Yes, ” she said, less certain of herself now. After a moment’s pause, she continued. “I just realized that I’m not cut out for life in the colony. But sir, ” she added. “There’s one request I have of you.”

This was getting interesting. “What?” he asked.

“I want to see my family again.”

“No way, ” he said without hesitation.

“But they’re my family, ” she cried irately. “Please, I must see them.”

“No!” he bellowed.

The girl burst into tears. Favo just sat there, waiting for the waterworks to pass. It carried on for at least three minutes, and during that time he was fighting every fiber of his being to chase her out of his office. When her sobbing finally subdued, and she was mostly sniffing, he decided to play his hand.

“If you don’t like the deal anymore, maybe you can go back to the quarry.”

Favo was taking a risk, suggesting that the deal might be off, but he had a strong hunch that negotiations were in his favor. It seemed highly unlikely that Jenna was going to call his bluff.

“No, no, ” she said urgently, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Could you at least make sure my mom and sister get fed every day? It would kill me if they died from starvation.”

That sounded more reasonable, he guessed. But he still wanted his revenge. “You’re asking a lot from me, ” he lied. “And I can’t simply forget that you called me a kaffer.”

Jenna gave a deep sigh. “I said I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s not enough, ” he countered.

“But what else can I do?”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Take off your lar-ten.”

Her pretty eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. Take off your lar-ten. Then throw it away, ” he said, pointing to the small waste bin in the corner near the door.

“But...but...I’ll be completely naked.”

“You humiliated me. Now it’s your turn.”

“Can I get it back later?”

“No.”

“Never?” she asked with a frazzled stare.

He shook his head. “Never.”

“Not even in your village?”

“You had two days to accept my offer, and not only did you ignore me, but you called me a kaffer. I don’t forget and I don’t forgive.”

“But-”

He slammed his hands against the desk counter, causing the girl to flinch. “You can leave if you want. I’m tired of talking.”

Jenna closed her eyes briefly and whimpered, but thankfully there were no more tears. Then she looked up at the imaginary heavens, as if praying to her God.

Slowly, her hands were grabbing the lar-ten’s waistband and pulling it down. He got an excruciating hard-on as he watched the string slipping from her hips. As soon as it went into free-fall, she lowered herself briefly to catch the small thong at her feet.

Then Jenna picked it up, looking more miserable than ever.

SIXTEEN

The small thong had been nothing more than a leather slip – a symbolic covering that had left nothing to the imagination.

Yet, now that Jenna was staring at it, lying there crumpled in the waste basket, she felt a growing queasiness in her stomach.

She was standing in the ugly African’s office, without a means to hide from his leering stare. Her body was fully revealed now.

Jenna was like a deer trapped in a lion’s den, and there was no escape – not unless she went back to the colony.

And she couldn’t do that either. Going back would surely lead to her death – sooner rather than later.

All that she could do was remain passive, standing there with clenched fists.

Favo revealed a sly grin. “Maybe now I forgive you, ” he said mysteriously. Then he got up from his desk, walking casually past her and staring intently at her exposed body. Jenna feared that he might do something unexpected.

She sighed with relief when he reached for the door instead. But her relief quickly drained away when she had a sudden realization – she was about to leave the office confines without a stitch of clothing. The lar-ten was bad enough...but this was preposterous.

“After you, ” Favo said, showing her the exit.

Jenna gasped, wishing to protest as soon as she saw the brightly-lit corridor.

“Go, ” he ordered in a more threatening tone of voice.

The African wasn’t going to be reasoned with, she thought with grim understanding. So she bit down on her teeth and started for the door.

Her heart skipped a few beats when she was in the passageway. Favo came out after her. “Wait here a minute, ” he said. “I need to talk to my boss.”

She watched with trepidation as her tormentor walked further down the passage and knocked on a door. Seconds later he went inside and disappeared from view.

This was crazy! She was stark naked.

As if to compound her misery, one of the clerks saw her standing there. He seemed to be paging through files in a cabinet drawer, until he froze and became transfixed by her. Out of sheer desperation, she brought her hands forward, interlocking them strategically in front of her pubic region.

Her face was burning with shame.

Eventually the clerk looked away, removing some papers from the cabinet. Then he turned and walked back to his cubicle.

Favo came back a few minutes later, saying: “Alright, I have the day off. We can go now.”

“Go where?” she asked nervously. For a moment she feared they would be going back to the colony. If the other prisoners saw her like this...

But he just laughed. “Where do you think? My village.”

That wasn’t reassuring either, she realized. A cold shudder started running down her spine.

On the outside, the sun was burning brightly. There were no shadows to hide Jenna’s nudity.

A few guards were patrolling the perimeter, and they stopped to stare when she emerged through the main door. Some were exchanging knowing smiles – others were doing double-takes.

Her face was burning even hotter now.

Favo pointed to the wire-mesh gate. “Follow me.”

Feeling extremely foolish, Jenna did the only thing she could, which was to obey. She walked after the African and kept her head low as they were passing through the gate, never allowing her eyes to stray sideways at the guards.

But she could imagine them smiling at her expense – watching her buttocks from behind and giving wolfish grins. Everything about this was inappropriate, but none of it mattered in such a primitive culture.

She was on her own and there was nowhere to hide – nowhere to run to.

The colony was surrounded by a seemingly endless expanse of savannah. Tall grass and thorny shrubs were everywhere. Jenna could feel the soft wind blowing against her exposed skin, reminding her with every step just how naked she was.

Being like this – with nothing but sandals on her feet – it was making her giddy with embarrassment. In the world she came from, this was not what dignified people did in public.

And just ahead of her was the last person she wanted to be with, yet like a bad joke, she was following him to his village.

Couldn’t he at least have been a little younger, Jenna thought miserably...or less simian in appearance...or less black? For Pete’s sake, he was a fifty-one-year-old man who could barely speak, and here she was, about to be married off to him!

Forget the fact that she was just seventeen. Technically she was still a child, which made this arrangement outrageous.

What made it worse was her imminent capture into slavery. Until a few days ago she was unaware that the practice still existed. But this was the middle of darkest Africa, so maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised.

She sighed and kicked a small pebble out of frustration, sending it a few yards.

Favo looked back over his shoulder and smiled broadly in her direction. Instinctively, she started raising her arms to cover herself, only to cave against the futility of it all.

What would be the point?

Feeling utterly defeated, she lowered her arms to her sides again.

“Will I ever see my parents?” she asked.

“That’s not up to me, ” Favo said, shaking his head.

“But can’t you talk to your boss? I’m sure he would reconsider if-”

“No!” he shouted, reverting back to character.

“But-”

“I said no.” He stopped walking and waited until she caught up with him. “You don’t realize how lucky you are, ” he continued, glaring up at her.

“I don’t feel very lucky. And why did you have to take my lar-ten? It’s humiliating.”

“I know. That will teach you for calling me a “kaffer”.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did. You think you’re better than me, simply because you’re a young, white girl. Your daddy probably protected you from the evil blacks, am I right? Blacks like me?”

Jenna froze.

He shrugged. “Go back to the colony if you don’t like the deal. I’ll even give you back your lar-ten.”

She was desperate, but unable to respond.

“Well?” he persisted.

She broke down into tears. The stress was just too overwhelming. “I’m scared, okay?” she stammered through the sobs. “Before I came here nobody was ever mean to me, and now all I see is cruelty.”

He just laughed in response. “Alright, I’ll take you back to the colony.”

“No!” she screamed. “I can’t go back there.”

“So you’re done complaining?”

She sniffed and wiped the tears away with her forearm. Then she nodded slowly.

SEVENTEEN

They neared a river’s embankment, and there was no bridge. She watched numbly as Favo removed his sandals. She did the same, stepping out of hers and picking them up.

The two of them waded knee–deep through the water. There was mostly soft sand and small rocks underneath, and the current was not that strong. Yet, her legs felt like lead, resisting her at every step.

Jenna made it across in the end, wishing that she hadn’t. She wanted to be swept away from this place. But she put on her sandals again and followed Favo.

The man was in a hurry, she noticed. “Almost there, ” he mumbled. “Just past those trees.”

He was pointing to a large grove with heavy thickets. A single trail cut through a narrow gap that seemed to lead up an incline.

Jenna gathered all her courage and reluctantly walked after the diminutive African. The large trees cast deep shadows across the landscape. For a few moments the two of them were completely cut of from the bright sky above.

However, not long after that, they emerged into a wide valley. The village itself consisted of primitive adobe–style houses and metal–sheet shacks – hundreds of them strewn across the expanse and straddling the river.

As they approached, a faint whiff of cow dung started stinging the inside of her nostrils. The smell was acrid and pervasive. She rubbed her nose before sneezing.

Favo turned around and laughed. “You like what you see?”

Jenna did not bother with a response. Everything was appalling. In the back of her head, she had always imagined how Wambazi’s tribes lived. It had been abstract thoughts that pertained to strange cultures – cultures that were separate from her own and far away.

Now that she was being thrust into one of those cultures, she found herself reassessing her opinions. No longer did she have romantic delusions about living ‘close to nature’.

About five minutes later they were walking through the dusty, gravel streets. Natives were doing double–takes as Jenna was walking by. She was sure that most of them had never laid eyes on white people before.

She was a novelty for more than one reason, but mostly it was her attire (or lack of) that shocked the onlookers. The men and women were very dark, just like Favo, and generally short in stature.

Most were dressed in tunics, including some of the older women. There were some that wore breach cloths and skimpy leather tops. On rare occasions she saw a few bare–breasted females. This reminded her of her own situation. She turned her head down and was dismayed to see her own chest so utterly exposed. Oh God.

Strangely, none of them had the ignominy of being completely bare. Perhaps the natives had some decency at least.

Jenna exhaled when she came to the understanding – none of these primitive Africans were naked. It was a bothersome thought, especially for someone like her who had been raised in a conventionally-Western lifestyle..

This was the first impression they were getting of her – a completely nude, white teenager walking servilely behind a much older, black man. Did it matter that Jenna was coming against her will? Would they care if she tried to explain? Her anxiety was growing.

She was still wrapped up with herself when Favo stopped in front of a large, adobe house close to the river. And when he entered through the beaded entrance, she hesitated for a second. Her destiny was already sealed. Her life was on a predetermined course, and she was not at the helm.

If only she had been stronger...

But she wasn’t. She was just seventeen years old. After quietly admonishing herself, Jenna walked in after her oppressor.

The first thing she saw was two men – one of them very old and sitting down on a tattered lounge chair. He was wearing a leather tunic, as expected, although a fur shawl was draped from his shoulders as well. She focused on him first because he appeared to be the most important. Favo approached the elderly fellow and bowed respectfully. Then he proceeded to converse in a strange, African dialect.

Jenna felt foolish for being there. What was the point of all this, she wondered.

Choosing to hang back in the corner of the dimly–lit room, she changed her attention to the other man. He appeared to be in his forties and standing just behind the old one. He was carefully paying attention, alternating his vision between Favo and Jenna.

One thing she did know – these Africans were discussing her fate, as if she had no say on the matter. She desperately wanted to run away from here.

But where would she go? She remembered the judge saying something about confiscating her father’s possessions. At the time she had thought of the matter as a joke. How could the government simply take something from a man and his family without compensation?

Yet, that is exactly what had happened. The blacks had taken everything from her – her home, her family, her clothing, her dignity...and now they were planning on taking what was left. This horrible little African with the lisp had coerced her into becoming his wife.

Jenna was still trying to figure out how it had all transpired. How did a young, white girl end up in a remote African village and about to be married off to the most hideous man imaginable?

She had no answer to the question. It all seemed so improbable, yet here she was, stressing out and fighting every fiber of her body not to bolt out the door. On the inside she was extremely fearful, mostly for herself but also for her family. What was going to happen to the Millers?

When the old man beckoned for her to step forward, she nearly fainted. But somehow she managed to make her way towards Favo’s side. And then, as a precautionary measure, she briefly bowed her head.

Jenna could feel those experienced eyes on her, examining her form from tip to toes.

He started talking in his own language and the man behind him interpreted on his behalf. “You have entered the realm of the Efegini, not as an honorary member, but as a slave. Do you understand what that means?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“I’m obliged to explain all the details. Firstly, from now on, you belong to the village during the day. Henceforth, you will be required to work for the du’danda, where you will perform tasks. She will explain everything once Favo introduces you. I will say that no contradiction or disobedience will be tolerated, and punishment will be harsh if we get complaints about you. Am I understood?”

Jenna agreed, feeling petrified. “Yes.”

“You will work seven days of the week, without any remuneration. However, you will receive rations if we feel you deserve it. And when your shift is over, you will return home where you will serve your husband. From now on, he will make every decision on your behalf. He will tell you how to walk, how to talk and how to behave. Am I understood?”

“Y–y–yes, ” Jenna stammered. She could feel a single tear running down her cheek.

“Also, you own nothing. Everything you do will be for the advancement of Favo, and Favo alone. He’s under no obligation to share anything with you. Our tribal laws are legitimate and uncontested within the boundaries of our lands. They supersede all other laws. Am I understood?”

“Yes.”

“And once you join the tribe as a slave, you cannot ever leave until you served your time.”

“Err, how long must I serve?”

“At least thirty years. After that you become a full member, with all the benefits that it entails.”

“Thirty years?” she whispered in disbelief. That was longer than her original sentence. Her heart was skipping beats now.

“And if you disobey the village or your husband, ” the elder continued, “we will punish you with five lashes.”

“Five lashes?” Jenna repeated with shock. Exactly what had she gotten herself into?

“Yes. Five lashes with a whip. Is that going to be a problem for you? If the arrangement is not suitable, feel free to leave. You’re under no obligation to agree.”

She swallowed hard. Nervously, she turned her head to steal a glance at Favo, who seemed content with himself. Off course he was, she thought with a mixture of fear and anger.

“Well?” the elder urged. “Have you made up your mind?”

Jenna stood there, transfixed. She desperately wanted to say “no”.

The elder shook his head and said something to the translator. “You’re wasting everybody’s time. This is the last time I ask. Do you submit?”

Jenna shuddered uncontrollably as she started to speak: “I submit.”

“Alright, ” the old man said. “We will now formalize the union between Favo Ugbula and Jenna Miller, who will henceforth be known as Jenna Ugbula. Please take the hand of your partner. ”

She allowed Favo to grab her hand. What else could she do?

“I hereby declare that you, Favo Ugbula, are now the lawful husband of Jenna Ugbula. Nothing can break this bond, except death.”

That was it? She was married to the despicable troll? Surely that was impossible. But when she turned her head, only to stare into Favo’s leering face, she realized that everything was already done.

“You may kiss your wife, ” the elder added.

Oh no...

She stiffened when Favo put his hand on her shoulder. It was futile to resist, yet she so desperately wanted to.

He pulled her down until they were at eye level. Then he moved in for the kiss.

No, no, no, no, no!

For an awkward moment she tried to retreat as Favo strengthened his grip on her shoulder. He also slipped his other arm around her back to reign her in. Once he forced her close enough, he trained his mouth on hers.

Jenna clenched her jaw shut, but Favo solved this quickly by pinching her painfully on the skin of her back. She gave an involuntary moan, which gave him the opportunity to insert his tongue.

Immediately her senses were assaulted by his rank odor...the taste of his saliva mixing in with hers. His tongue was darting wildly inside her cavity, lapping at her palette. She could do nothing but accommodate his invasion, and at the same time wishing that it was over.

Finally he disengaged from her and smiled broadly, revealing his yellow teeth. Jenna felt desecrated.

The elder clapped his palms together. “It is done. May the marriage be fruitful.”

EIGHTEEN

Before they left, the translator picked up a large, leather book from a desk by the far wall. “Just need your names and signatures here, ” he said as he started to turn the pages.

Following apprehensively after Favo, Jenna walked past the elder and then approached the man. He presented the book to them both and handed over a pen.

Favo wasted little time in scribbling down his particulars. She swallowed hard when her turn came up, but somehow her hand managed to grab the pen and write down her name in the empty column...only to suddenly stop short.

She was no longer a “Miller”. She watched the column next to hers and saw Favo’s last name, transcribed very roughly.

Ugbula.

From now on she would be part of his family. It felt eerie and terrifying to her, but if she gave it too much thought...

She bit down on her lower lip and entered her full name in the empty column: Jenna Ugbula.

After that she notarized the bottom of the page, thereby making the marriage official.

Her mouth was dry when she handed the pen back to the translator. He took it with a grin, watching her intently. His eyes were straying down to her breasts a few times, yet he did nothing more than close the book.

“Our business is done here, ” he said calmly. “The two of you can go now.”

Favo exchanged a smile with the man and turned to face her. “Come, ” he said, beckoning for her to follow.

Jenna was conflicted with a host of negative emotions, yet what she felt most acutely when she left the elder’s home was humiliation.

The murky interior had helped to obscure her nudity, but out here in broad daylight, she was completely exposed again.

The blood was rushing to her face. Her heart was palpitating. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. So many eyes were upon her – strange, dark eyes.

To make things worse, children were pointing at her and laughing without restraint. At first she was embarrassed. Then she was outraged.

Things got even more worse when Favo stepped close and enveloped her from the left side, sending his arm around her lower back. Before Jenna could resist, he was already strengthening his grip on her hip.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked.

“We’re husband and wife now. Put your arm around me.”

“No, ” she said, suppressing her anger. Around her, villagers were grinning and exchanging hushed conversations.

“Do it, ” he said in a threatening tone.

“No.”

A jolt of pain shot through her when Favo starting digging one of his sharp nails into her hip. It was sharp and unexpected, causing her to hiss through her teeth.

“I’m not going to ask again, ” he warned.

Jenna finally relented.

Because of the disparity in their height, she had no choice but to send her arm around the back of the ugly man’s neck and rest her hand on his shoulder.

The two of them were now side by side as they started walking up the gravel road. Jenna was feeling lightheaded from all these repeated humiliations.

And now that they were so close, she could smell Favo’s rank odor much more clearly. It was reminiscent of sweat and faecal matter. She wanted to push him away – tell him to get his grubby hands off her.

But she couldn’t. She recalled the elder’s warning all too vividly.

Even when Favo’s hand slipped down from her hip, allowing his wrist to rest on the upper curve of her buttocks, Jenna was too afraid to discourage him.

But realistically, what could she do? Nobody was looking out for her. The only people that cared about her were back at the colony.

She was now in his world, whether she liked it or not.

Jenna tried her best to ignore the onlookers. It wasn’t like she could deny her association with Favo, given that he had his arm wrapped so affectionately around her.

These Africans didn’t know who she was. They didn’t know that she was a passionate swimmer, or a talented piano player, or an avid horse rider, or a keen student of science and maths.

All they saw was her – naked as the day she was born, being accompanied by Favo of all people. And there was no way somebody like him could have esteem among his fellow tribes people. She dared a cursory glance, finding most of the nearby villagers to be objectively unattractive. These people were generally dumpy and cursed with some of the same features as Favo. But even so, none were as repulsive as he.

She feared being dragged down even further. Because if he was the village idiot, she was now the village idiot’s wife.

His wife!

She didn’t want to think about it, yet the image of seeing her name in that ledger had been the stuff of nightmares.

Jenna Ugbula.

It was such a crass last name – so undeniably African. How could that be her last name now? And how would she explain that to her parents...or her sister...or her friends from school?

She couldn’t believe it.

Jenna Ugbula.

If it was’t so sad, she would’ve laughed.

She felt a gentle tug on her hip as Favo steered her towards a narrow bridge. Her initial resistance, although strong, was so futile that it faded almost as soon as it started.

They crossed the river and followed the gravel path that cut through a much busier part of the village. Immediately she noticed a downgrade in the buildings.

Gone were the adobe-styled houses, which had populated the opposite side of the river. Now everything was made from a combination of rusty sheet-metal and clapboard. It was clear that these villagers were indigent, or from a lower caste.

Their clothes were more plain. The number of bare-breasted women were far more numerous as well.

She had no idea how stratified the Efegini culture was, but since slavery was still being practiced in the tribe, it was only reasonable to expect an oppressive hierarchy.

And slaves would be at the bottom of this hierarchy, she thought dejectedly.

Why wouldn’t they be?

Another dark thought was wriggling around in her mind – the realization that she was heading towards Favo’s house.

She didn’t know what to expect, yet at the same time...

What else could it be?

Her body started stiffening with fear.

NINETEEN

Holding the young girl like that – so intimately as they were walking side by side.

It was like a dream come true.

Yes, she was much taller than him, but she had a delicate, feminine frame. Feeling her creamy skin with his hand was so exciting...so erotic.

Favo couldn’t wait to drill the girl’s pristine cunt, and maybe her asshole as well. He was going to be rough with her.

Despite Jenna’s youth and sheltered upbringing, she was not so naive that she didn’t know what was coming. But knowing the future was not the same as avoiding the future.

She could not deny him anymore, of that he was sure.

He was smiling to himself as he saw villagers passing them on the street. Several of those were women who had spurned him over the years.

In hindsight, this had been fortuitous, because if even one of them had said yes, young Jenna would’ve been someone else’s opportunity. And she was a million times hotter than some village maiden with big, hanging tits and a fat ass.

She was forbidden fruit, he reminded himself...the ultimate prize for any man.

Yet Favo was not any man. He was probably the most unsuitable candidate imaginable. But none of that mattered – not when the odds were stacked in his favor.

Not when Jenna was enslaved to serve him.

He was laughing quietly when they were rounding the corner and walking the familiar street. His house was near the village perimeter, and mostly veiled by trees and thorny bushes.

It was a ramshackle place, with no plumbing of its own. He had to use the portable toilet, which was being shared with several villagers.

When it rained, his roof leaked like a colander.

But it was his home, and soon it would be young Jenna’s home too.

Jenna Ugbula.

He couldn’t believe she had his last name now. She was his wife. This was going to be the turning point for his clan, he realized. There was hope for the future.

“Well, here we are, ” he said, gesturing to the small house.

Jenna was standing rigidly next to him. Her big, blue eyes were stretched even wider as she was studying the semi-dilapidated structure. She did not say anything.

Favo stepped away from her side and grabbed her hand. He wasted little time in starting for the front door. She seemed rooted to the spot, however.

Then her eyes found his and started quivering with despair. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He yanked at her hand, forcing her to give an involuntary step forward. “Come, ” he ordered impatiently.

She slowly planted one foot in front of the other...and then another.

Favo turned the handle when he was within reach of the door. It opened with a creak, as it usually did.

The young girl was hesitating again – staring into the gloom with her mouth hanging open. But when he started leading her inside, she did not dig in her heels or try to shake loose from his grasp.

Her delicate hand was clenched tight within his though.

“This is it, ” he said triumphantly, just as Jenna was crossing the threshold. “Your new home.”

They were standing in his modest vestibule, which consisted of nothing more than a few makeshift chairs, an old dining table, and a shoddy counter with a plastic basin on top. The basin had to be taken outside and emptied when it was full. Currently, several plates and utensils had accumulated inside, because Favo hated doing the dishes.

But this was the boring part. The house tour would get more interesting once he showed Jenna the bedroom.

“Close the door, ” he said, hardly able to contain himself.

Jenna reached back with her free hand and tentatively obeyed.

The interior was gloomier now. Nonetheless, he could still see the absolute horror conveyed by her expression.

She wanted to bolt out the door, obviously. Yet, there was nowhere for her to go.

“Now that we’re alone, ” he said, “may I just say how beautiful you are. You look like one of those billboard models.”

The girl shook her head. “I-I-I don’t understand.”

“You know, those blonde girls with the bikinis. But you’re even more beautiful than any of them.”

Jenna’s eyes diverted from his gaze when recognition seemed to dawn on her, but only briefly because Favo started reigning her close.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a panicky voice.

“No more talking, ” Favo replied, sending one arm around her midriff. Then he placed his other hand on her shoulder and started pulling her down for a kiss.

“No, no, ” she whispered, making no effort to hide her disgust.

Favo ignored the girl and kissed her hard on the lips, sending his tongue deep into the recess of her mouth. Her head was being pulled back at first, until it became evident that her efforts to rebuff his advances were pointless.

Nevertheless, he could hear the disturbed groans welling from the deepest part of her throat.

He kept kissing Jenna, even though she was very much an unwilling participant. Then he started pushing the envelope, lowering his hand from her midriff to the top of her buttocks. And as expected, she tried to pry his fingers away.

Favo stopped kissing her and looked her straight in the eyes. “Don’t, ” was all he said at first, making sure to sound threatening.

Young Jenna did not respond, but he was so close to her face that he could see her desperation...and her fear.

“You will allow me to touch you, ” he continued. “And if you resist again, I will hit you. Do you understand?”

She nodded without blinking.

“And you better kiss me back from now on, or there will be trouble.”

The girl didn’t need further coercion, even remaining in her lowered position as Favo started removing his hand from her shoulder.

However, she stiffened quickly once his arms were holding her around the hips.

“C’mon, ” he said, craning his neck slightly to reach for her pretty mouth.

Jenna grimaced, but she somehow managed to meet him halfway. When they began kissing again, her tongue was darting around without much enthusiasm. It wasn’t just because she had an aversion for intimacy, he suspected. The young girl had no experience with the opposite sex.

He was fine with that. Teaching her the pleasure of intercourse would be half the fun.

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