One morning, earlier than usual, the door of Bakhita’s prison banged open. “Let’s go!” her captor barked. The child was led to a slave merchant who bought her at once. It was time to travel again. Bakhita, along with a slightly older girl, was added to a caravan of men and women slaves. The adults were bound together in twos or threes. Their chains dragged when they walked. The iron collars cut into their necks, causing painful sores. They were forced to carry heavy bundles on their backs for miles and miles.
During the day the children were not chained, but the sight of the adults made Bakhita very sad. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare. She wanted to console and help the suffering men and women, but she cringed in fear at the thought of the punishment she would receive.
The two girls walked at the end of the line near the slave traders. At night, their ankles, too, were chained. In the dark, when they weren’t being watched, they whispered.
“What is your name?” the older girl asked.
“They call me Bakhita,” came the reply. “I used to live in Olgossa. But where are we now?”
“I don’t know,” Bakhita’s new friend admitted. “But if we have a chance, we’ll run away!”
Day after day the slaves walked, driven by the whips of their masters. They crossed woods, mountains, valleys, and deserts. At every village they reached, new slaves were added to the group.
Despite Bakhita’s fear and sadness, she forced herself to be grateful for the good things that came her way. She loved breathing the fresh air, glancing up at the beautiful blue sky, and tasting the fresh, cool water. What gifts these were after her lonely, dark captivity in the master’s hut!
After eight days, the caravan arrived at a slave-market. Here the captured individuals would be sold to various traders and go their different ways. The two girls were bought together. Their new owner led them to a small, dark hut. Again their ankles were chained together. The girls were sad and frightened. But somehow they never gave up hope. Many years later, Bakhita, as a Catholic and a religious sister, wrote: “God was watching over us, though we did not know him. He offered us a chance.”
One day their new master spilled a pile of corn at the door of the girls’ makeshift prison. He removed their shackles. “Spread the corn on the floor,” he ordered. “Then pull off the husks and feed the corn to the mules.”
The girls understood and immediately began working. The man watched them for a few moments and seemed satisfied. He then left to take care of some business... forgetting to lock the door!
The children glanced down at their unchained ankles, then at each other. They waited until the master’s footsteps died away, then smiled and grabbed each other’s hands. It had to be now!
The two moved cautiously to the door and peered around. There was no one in sight! They began to run and they kept on running until they came to the forest. Once inside the forest they slowed down a little. Although they didn’t know where they were going, they felt protected by the thick trees and brush.
Twilight darkened the forest as night approached. They strained their eyes to see where to go. They were so happy to be free, but afraid just the same. Where were they? Which direction was home? Were their villages close by?
Even late at night, the children kept moving. Once they heard the snapping of dry twigs being trampled. The sounds came closer. The girls halted, frozen with fear. They instinctively dashed for a tree and clambered up the trunk. Perched unmoving among the leaves, they watched in terror as a lion stopped and sniffed the tree trunk before moving on into the dark forest. The girls waited until dawn, then slid to the ground and continued their journey.
The weary travelers plodded on. When would they reach a place of safety? When would they really be free? Hungry, thirsty, and so tired, the children kept going. Soon they heard new sounds—the rhythmic thud of bare feet, the rattling of chains, an occasional moan. These were sounds that they recognized immediately. A slave caravan was passing by. The girls shuddered and hid behind thorn bushes, their hearts thumping. If they were found, they would be caught and forced to join the other slaves. Even though the caravan was so close, it passed by without anyone noticing the children. Bakhita didn’t yet know about miracles. Had she known, she surely would have agreed that this was one.
The girls reached the limits of the forest and pondered their next move. The surrounding desert area was wide open, with little shelter. They could easily be spotted. The two pushed ahead, moving this way and that, trying to be cautious. All the while, they felt panicky and alone. Finally, at sunset, the thatched huts of a village came into view. “Could it be my village?” the children asked each other. They felt a surge of new hope running through their veins. The friends forgot how tired and hungry they were. They raced toward the village.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man appeared. He smiled and stretched out his arms, blocking the path. “Where are you going?” he asked kindly, as if he were genuinely interested in their welfare. “Where are you going?” he repeated.
The girls were silent. Neither could be sure of what the other would say. “Well, where would you like to go?” he asked.
“Home,” one cautiously answered, “to our parents.”
“You look very tired,” the stranger said. “Perhaps it’s better if you come to my house just ahead. You can have some dinner and rest. Tomorrow I will take you to your families.”
The girls wanted with all their hearts to believe the man. This was like a dream come true! They had escaped successfully, but had begun to realize that, on their own, they might never find their way home. The girls followed the stranger to his hut. They were given food and drink. Everything tasted so good!
When they were finished, the stranger led the girls outside, behind the house. They looked anxiously at each other. They saw sheep in an outdoor pen. What were they doing here? The kind look on the man’s face was gone now. He opened the sheep gate and pushed the girls inside. He chained their ankles together. “There,” he said gruffly. “Stay here until I get back.” Bakhita and her friend faced the terrible truth: they were slaves once again.
The girls spent several days and nights chained in the animal pen.
One day, a slave trader passed through the village. The children’s captor saw his chance. He released them and took them to the merchant. The girls stood there, staring straight ahead. They were trembling and frightened. Quickly, the trader bought the children and led them away. The girls walked as fast as they could. They were forced to join a long caravan of slaves on their way to the slave markets in the city of El Obeid. What would happen next?