Mosana - Part XI
EPISODE 11
I was mopping the stairs when Clara, the receptionist I had met on the first day, summoned me herself. I had been consoling myself regarding the abolition of slavery in Britain. I told myself that it didn’t matter. I might have become a free citizen, but would still have been tried for murder. After all, killing somebody was still punishable by the law, slave or free.
‘Drop whatever you’re doing. Mr. Marc has asked for you.’
You must have deduced by now that the boarding house and the office were in the same building. So I dropped my mop stick and ran down the stairs to the ground floor where Marc’s office was. I knocked once before going in.
‘Mosana! There she is. Congratulations, I found you a placement, like you always wanted.’
I walked in cautiously to find Marc talking to a well-dressed man in a black suit.
‘Factory work?’ I asked.
‘Something like that.’
Something like that?
I didn’t have time to process what that could mean before Marc introduced me to the man in the black suit.
‘Meet Mr. Wells. Mr. Wells, meet Mosana… uh…’ Marc turned to me then. ‘We need to get you a last name, Mosana. In this country, you need at least two names, and I need it to get you registered in the books, you know.’
I was listening to what Marc was saying, but I was also assessing the man in the black suit. He looked like a butler, not a factory worker or owner of one for that matter. I had never seen a butler before, but I knew the word and knew what a butler was. My sixth sense was at work again, but I didn’t know whether I could trust it. I mean, I knew I could trust it, but I wasn’t sure if trusting it was a wise decision at the moment. I needed a way out of there, so I swallowed everything that Marc said.
He was still asking me for a last name. I thought of Nvibe, my father’s name, but that repulsed me the moment I thought about it. There was no way I was going to use his name. I thought of using my mother’s name, but as much as I loved her, I realised I didn’t want any connections to Aimatu or its people. Besides, what Marc was asking for was an English name. I needed something simple.
After I had eliminated my father and my mother’s name, the next option came easily. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it first.
‘Sutton. Use Mosana Sutton. That’s my name now.’
Ed had been more of a father to me than my biological sperm donor. Together with Sarah, they were my family, although lost.
Mr. Wells extended his hand towards me for a shake. I took it and noticed immediately how soft they were. Like the hands were constantly in gloves. These were not factory hands, I thought to myself. Still, I ignored the warning signals. All I saw was a way out of there.
‘Nice to meet you, Mosana Sutton. Ready?’
I looked from Mr. Wells to Marc. ‘You’re to start immediately,’ Marc said to me.
‘Sure,’ I said, and went back upstairs to pack my one bag. I was back down the stairs in five minutes to see Mr. Wells signing on a sheet of paper in front of him. When he was done, Marc beckoned on me to do the same. He pointed me to the line on which I was to sign and I wrote my new name for the first time.
Mosana Sutton.
I followed Mr. Wells out the door and outside the building to a shiny black carriage parked just outside. I stopped in my tracks and examined my surroundings in three seconds. What had begun to brew the moment I saw Mr. wells suddenly reared to the surface when I saw the carriage.
One, it was an obviously expensive carriage. Two, it was drawn by not one, but two well-tended horses with shiny manes. Three, it had a coachman. Only the rich could afford someone to drive their carriages for them. To further blow my mind, the coachman got down from his seat and opened the door for us.
How could this be related to factory work? Even the coachman didn’t look like he worked at a factory. He looked like he drove around all day and was well paid for it. Still, I pushed the thoughts aside and forced my legs to move as I heard my name.
‘Miss Sutton?’
Mr. Wells was already to the carriage and was waiting patiently for me to go in first. No one had ever held a door open for me before. Inside, the cushions were plush and comfortable, covered in rich velvet. There were drapes, not curtains, which blocked the view from inside. Everything in there screamed money. Maybe the factory owner was a wealthy man and looked after his workers well. There was nothing I could do about it at the moment anyway.
Since the drapes were drawn, I couldn’t see outside and didn’t know the streets we took. I didn’t dare open it; I don’t know why, but I felt I would stain it if I touched it, even though my hands weren’t dirty. It was too rich for me. It was quiet in the carriage as we rode. Mr. Wells sat stiff and straight even though the carriage bumped a few times. He didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t offer up anything. I was too scared to ask any of the questions in my mind even though I knew I had a right to. I think the carriage was padded too, to block out noises from the street. We drove and drove, until I was sure we had driven all the way back to England. Many times, the question about how far away the factory was almost spilled out of my mouth. It was a long ride. I tried not to close my eyes, but they were very heavy. I wanted to be conscious every step of the way, but I must have slept, because I remember being woken up each time by the jolts of the carriage on cobblestones along the way.
I felt we had arrived when the carriage slowed down and finally stopped. Mr. Wells got out first and I followed. The moment I got down from the carriage, I was blown away. The house, no, mansion in front of me absolutely took my breath away. It was the biggest house I had ever seen. Needless to say, we were standing in one of the biggest acres of land I had ever come across. How could one man own all this?
I stood open-mouthed, gazing at the beauty in front of me until I heard someone sharply call out my name.
‘Mosana!’
That was the second time I was being called out of my reverie, and there was something different this time. The first time Mr. Wells addressed me, he spoke to me like I was an honorary student, or a special customer. Raising my head to look at him now, I noticed the change in his demeanour immediately.
‘Follow me,’ he said brusquely.
His face had hardened and his voice had lost the former lustre he had used while we were in Marc’s office. He spoke like he was in authority, like I was… below him.
I raced up to him and finally forced my throat open. I wanted to ask him where the factory was.
‘Mr. Wells…’ I began. Before I even took in another breath to continue, he stopped walking and looked me menacingly in the eye. ‘Master, to you, girl. You will address me as Master Wells or keep your mouth shut.’
And with that, he continued his walk to the mansion's huge front door. I stood there bewildered out of my wits. Funnily enough, it was at that moment the details of my surroundings began to register in my brain. Houses were not usually fenced around here, but this one had high walls as well as a huge gate. A gate that had closed as soon as the carriage had rolled in. These details mocked me as I realised I couldn’t run. I saw the manicured lawns and the fountain. I noticed stables to the right and what looked like a barn. There must be a farm close by, I reasoned. But that was no consolation.
It didn’t take me long to guess that this was nothing close to factory work as I had asked for. It didn’t take long for the hard, bitter truth to dawn on me as I stood on the massive courtyard.
Marc had sold me into slavery.
Hey you!
I feel so guilty right now. For those of you that have been following, you'd have noticed that it's been ages since I last posted.
‘Drop whatever you’re doing. Mr. Marc has asked for you.’
You must have deduced by now that the boarding house and the office were in the same building. So I dropped my mop stick and ran down the stairs to the ground floor where Marc’s office was. I knocked once before going in.
‘Mosana! There she is. Congratulations, I found you a placement, like you always wanted.’
I walked in cautiously to find Marc talking to a well-dressed man in a black suit.
‘Factory work?’ I asked.
‘Something like that.’
Something like that?
I didn’t have time to process what that could mean before Marc introduced me to the man in the black suit.
‘Meet Mr. Wells. Mr. Wells, meet Mosana… uh…’ Marc turned to me then. ‘We need to get you a last name, Mosana. In this country, you need at least two names, and I need it to get you registered in the books, you know.’
I was listening to what Marc was saying, but I was also assessing the man in the black suit. He looked like a butler, not a factory worker or owner of one for that matter. I had never seen a butler before, but I knew the word and knew what a butler was. My sixth sense was at work again, but I didn’t know whether I could trust it. I mean, I knew I could trust it, but I wasn’t sure if trusting it was a wise decision at the moment. I needed a way out of there, so I swallowed everything that Marc said.
He was still asking me for a last name. I thought of Nvibe, my father’s name, but that repulsed me the moment I thought about it. There was no way I was going to use his name. I thought of using my mother’s name, but as much as I loved her, I realised I didn’t want any connections to Aimatu or its people. Besides, what Marc was asking for was an English name. I needed something simple.
After I had eliminated my father and my mother’s name, the next option came easily. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it first.
‘Sutton. Use Mosana Sutton. That’s my name now.’
Ed had been more of a father to me than my biological sperm donor. Together with Sarah, they were my family, although lost.
Mr. Wells extended his hand towards me for a shake. I took it and noticed immediately how soft they were. Like the hands were constantly in gloves. These were not factory hands, I thought to myself. Still, I ignored the warning signals. All I saw was a way out of there.
‘Nice to meet you, Mosana Sutton. Ready?’
I looked from Mr. Wells to Marc. ‘You’re to start immediately,’ Marc said to me.
‘Sure,’ I said, and went back upstairs to pack my one bag. I was back down the stairs in five minutes to see Mr. Wells signing on a sheet of paper in front of him. When he was done, Marc beckoned on me to do the same. He pointed me to the line on which I was to sign and I wrote my new name for the first time.
Mosana Sutton.
I followed Mr. Wells out the door and outside the building to a shiny black carriage parked just outside. I stopped in my tracks and examined my surroundings in three seconds. What had begun to brew the moment I saw Mr. wells suddenly reared to the surface when I saw the carriage.
One, it was an obviously expensive carriage. Two, it was drawn by not one, but two well-tended horses with shiny manes. Three, it had a coachman. Only the rich could afford someone to drive their carriages for them. To further blow my mind, the coachman got down from his seat and opened the door for us.
How could this be related to factory work? Even the coachman didn’t look like he worked at a factory. He looked like he drove around all day and was well paid for it. Still, I pushed the thoughts aside and forced my legs to move as I heard my name.
‘Miss Sutton?’
Mr. Wells was already to the carriage and was waiting patiently for me to go in first. No one had ever held a door open for me before. Inside, the cushions were plush and comfortable, covered in rich velvet. There were drapes, not curtains, which blocked the view from inside. Everything in there screamed money. Maybe the factory owner was a wealthy man and looked after his workers well. There was nothing I could do about it at the moment anyway.
Since the drapes were drawn, I couldn’t see outside and didn’t know the streets we took. I didn’t dare open it; I don’t know why, but I felt I would stain it if I touched it, even though my hands weren’t dirty. It was too rich for me. It was quiet in the carriage as we rode. Mr. Wells sat stiff and straight even though the carriage bumped a few times. He didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t offer up anything. I was too scared to ask any of the questions in my mind even though I knew I had a right to. I think the carriage was padded too, to block out noises from the street. We drove and drove, until I was sure we had driven all the way back to England. Many times, the question about how far away the factory was almost spilled out of my mouth. It was a long ride. I tried not to close my eyes, but they were very heavy. I wanted to be conscious every step of the way, but I must have slept, because I remember being woken up each time by the jolts of the carriage on cobblestones along the way.
I felt we had arrived when the carriage slowed down and finally stopped. Mr. Wells got out first and I followed. The moment I got down from the carriage, I was blown away. The house, no, mansion in front of me absolutely took my breath away. It was the biggest house I had ever seen. Needless to say, we were standing in one of the biggest acres of land I had ever come across. How could one man own all this?
I stood open-mouthed, gazing at the beauty in front of me until I heard someone sharply call out my name.
‘Mosana!’
That was the second time I was being called out of my reverie, and there was something different this time. The first time Mr. Wells addressed me, he spoke to me like I was an honorary student, or a special customer. Raising my head to look at him now, I noticed the change in his demeanour immediately.
‘Follow me,’ he said brusquely.
His face had hardened and his voice had lost the former lustre he had used while we were in Marc’s office. He spoke like he was in authority, like I was… below him.
I raced up to him and finally forced my throat open. I wanted to ask him where the factory was.
‘Mr. Wells…’ I began. Before I even took in another breath to continue, he stopped walking and looked me menacingly in the eye. ‘Master, to you, girl. You will address me as Master Wells or keep your mouth shut.’
And with that, he continued his walk to the mansion's huge front door. I stood there bewildered out of my wits. Funnily enough, it was at that moment the details of my surroundings began to register in my brain. Houses were not usually fenced around here, but this one had high walls as well as a huge gate. A gate that had closed as soon as the carriage had rolled in. These details mocked me as I realised I couldn’t run. I saw the manicured lawns and the fountain. I noticed stables to the right and what looked like a barn. There must be a farm close by, I reasoned. But that was no consolation.
It didn’t take me long to guess that this was nothing close to factory work as I had asked for. It didn’t take long for the hard, bitter truth to dawn on me as I stood on the massive courtyard.
Marc had sold me into slavery.
______________________________
I feel so guilty right now. For those of you that have been following, you'd have noticed that it's been ages since I last posted.
As much as I don't like giving excuses, I have to explain myself. I think y'all deserve that much. It's because I've been gravely ill. I've been a week in recovery now, and I've been advised to rest and rest, but I couldn't stay away from you all for long.
So accept my apology and send your best wishes! Till next Sunday.
xoxo,
Ava.
It is well with you. God sends sickness and diseases far from you IJN.
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