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As Wanadi was pushed and shoved forwards, the rage built up within him, but his thoughts kept turning back to the ship that arrived just as they left.
Could it be possible? he wondered. No, they must be more of the white men fighting for the riches of this land. How can they be stopped? I am, but just one man and they are many.
Just as he was beginning to despair of his situation a smile began to form upon his lips.
‘Get me out of these chains!’ he began to shout.
‘What is all this commotion?’ the governor said turning around.
‘I demand to be released.’
‘I’ve had enough of his whining. I will walk at the back where I can get some peace.’ As he walked past Wanadi, he glared at him and shouldered his way through.
Wanadi simply smiled and glanced over his shoulder. As they had reached an area with brackish swamps, the going was hard, and they walked in single file as the lead man hacked through the tangle of roots. Within no time they had worked up quite a thirst, and that’s when he noticed what he had been looking for all along. Just ahead of them sat a tree with its distinctive reddish-grey bark, shiny leaves and apple-like fruits hanging from its branches. Wanadi glimpsed around him and saw that some of the men were looking up at the fruit. As they were passing it, Wanadi bent to pick up one of several fallen fruits.
‘Oh, no you don’t,’ a man called Gonzalo said. ‘You do not eat until the governor says you can.’
Wanadi simply shrugged and carried on walking.
You’ll be sorry at the way you have treated me.
Gonzalo had relished the task that the governor had given him, namely keeping an eye on Wanadi. Ever since their departure from the village, he had been cursing and prodding Wanadi with a stick at every opportunity. With beady little eyes and a hooked nose, he chuckled a phlegmy laugh as he revelled in Wanadi’s discomfort.
‘Quick, pick some of them up before the governor sees,’ Gonzalo said.
Before too long, Wanadi heard the crunching of the fruit as the men bit into its sweet flesh.
‘Oh, this is good.’
‘Nectar of the gods.’
Not long now, Wanadi chuckled quietly.
‘What’s going on up there?’ the governor shouted. ‘Keep it moving.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Gonzalo replied.
No sooner than he had done so, he started coughing, and his hands shot to his throat. ‘Holy Mother of God!’ he croaked.
Before too long he was joined by the two other men as they started to cough and splutter.
‘What is all this commotion?’ the governor said pushing past the men.
As he reached them, they were now in a desperate state. With their eyes watering they began rubbing at them, but they soon regretted their actions as they started to lose their vision. Wanadi stood there with a steely gaze and a sense of detachment as he watched the men's suffering unfold before his very eyes. For he was in possession of a specific knowledge that these other men lacked. That if one were to eat the fruit of the Manchineel Tree, then one would suffer a slow and agonising death. The first bite of its sweet flesh lured one into devouring the whole fruit until that taste was replaced by a burning and tearing sensation at the back of one’s throat.
‘Water, water!’ Gonzalo gasped.
‘Give this man some water,’ the governor ordered.
‘I’m afraid that...’
‘What is it?’ he said as he saw the expression on Baltasar’s face.
‘We have none left, sir.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Gonzalo was to see to our supplies, but we left in such a hu—’
‘Then he has himself to blame,’ he said watching the man suffer.
‘That might be so, sir. But we need these men.’
‘I wonder what caused this?’ the governor mused. ‘Explain yourself,’ he said to Gonzalo.
‘Sir, he cannot talk. We must do something.’
‘Be quiet, Baltasar.’
‘Th... the... fr...’ Gonzalo stuttered.
‘What are you saying?’
‘Him,’ Gonzalo said pointing to Wanadi.
The governor turned his head and looked his way.
‘I should have known that you would have something to do with this.’
Wanadi simply held his gaze.
‘Sir, the men are having trouble breathing.’
‘I don’t know how you did this, but you will be sorry.’
Wanadi did not reply.
‘Let’s keep moving.’
‘But the men, sir,’ Baltasar pleaded.
‘Did you not say that they were having trouble breathing?’
‘Yes, but I think that we sh—’
‘We’ve wasted enough time,’ the governor said turning his back on the dying men.
Gonzalo held out a feeble hand as in his fading vision he saw the remaining men walk past him.
You’re in my world now, Wanadi smiled.