The Fulani Girls 

Anniya dug her toes in the soil. She needed to plant her feet on land. Any land. She knew weeks ago in the fetid hell of that wretched ship that she would never again see her father, her mother, or her clan. She would never see the vast horizons that stretched across North Africa where the Fulani migrated, where long grasses and scraggly bushes of acacia and cordia clung to the red landscape, and where only the Fulanis could raise a thriving herd. All this was lost. Many of the Africans were unchained, unshackled, and led off the ship in New York. But when Anniya stepped forward with Nasara’s hand in hers, a man snatched her away.

“One goes to Georgia,” he growled, and forced Anniya back down into the black hole where her screams and cries echoed throughout the dismal chamber. But she had vowed to Nasara that she would come back for her. Once she settled down, got back on even keel, and figured things out, she made up her mind to keep her vow. She would go back to New York and find her sister. All else may be lost, but they would be together; she would have her sister.