My story is finished—The past and the present—Why are these things so?—The old days—Now we are white men’s slaves—How long will it last?—We are dying—Our only rest is death—How long, how long? [[15]]
BOKWALA
CHAPTER I
How We Once Lived
My early days—Life at home—How we fared—Work and play—Our one fear, the cannibals—Iseankótó’s warning—We despise it—We are captured by cannibals—The journey—A horrible meal—The cannibal village reached.
I have heard that there are many white people in Europe, both men and women, who feel compassion for us black men, and who would, if they knew more about us, take pity on us and save us from our sorrows and trials. So I am going to tell the story of my life, that they may know and help us.
Long, long ago I was born in the village of Ekaka, and having lived so long I have seen many things, and who is better able to tell them than I? We have great controversy with the [[16]]white people about our ages: they say I am about thirty years old, but of course I know better; and I say that I am about three thousand years old—which shows that white men do not know everything.
My name is Bokwala, a slave. I do not know why my father and mother named me so; for I was a freeborn child. But afterwards I became a slave in truth, as I shall tell you, so then it suited me well.