Two and a half weeks later, in El Obeid, African men, women, and children stood in line while prospective buyers strode back and forth, selecting slaves. Bakhita looked eagerly at all the slave women, hoping she might catch a glimpse of her older sister, who had been kidnapped so long ago. But there were no familiar faces here. There were no familiar faces anywhere.
Attention finally turned to the two young girls. They were so small and afraid. A well-dressed man stepped forward. “I’ll buy the children,” he said simply. He paid the fee and led them down the road to his large house. The girls gazed in wonder at the splendor of the rooms and furniture. They felt the soft carpet under their feet. Bakhita looked down at the scratches and cuts on her own bare feet and legs, remembering the long, forced marches.
Her new owner, a wealthy Arab chief, had two daughters. The girls wore dresses embroidered with gold and shining with pearls. “Daddy, our own maids! Thank you!” one of the girls exclaimed. “We’ll train them in household duties, and when our brother Salim gets married, we’ll give them to him as a wedding present.”
“A wonderful idea!” approved their father.
Both girls especially liked Bakhita with her soft, gentle face and big eyes. Each of the African children was given different duties. One of Bakhita’s tasks was to stay near the chief‘s daughters to take care of all their needs. Each day, as the rooms of the house grew warm, Bakhita would fan the girls and try her best to keep them cool.
The little slaves were treated well and kindly by their owners. What a relief after all the harsh treatment they had received since they had been snatched from their families! Bakhita began to hope that perhaps life as a slave would not be so bad. But this peaceful period was not to last forever.
One calm afternoon, Salim came into the room where Bakhita was fanning his two sisters.
“You!” he ordered. “Bring me the large vase from the next room. Take it off its stand, and be careful! It’s very expensive!”
The girl went quickly, anxious to please. She lifted the enormous vase into her arms, hugging it tightly. Even though Bakhita clutched the vase as carefully as she could, it slipped and hit the floor as she entered the room. She stood frozen as the vase splintered into a thousand pieces.
Salim grew red with rage. “Clumsy fool! I told you to be careful!” he cried. He reached for his whip. Bakhita panicked. She had not forgotten the sting of the whip. She ran for protection to the master‘s daughters and hid near them.
This was the worst thing she could have done. Now Salim grew even angrier. He snatched the child from her hiding place and hurled her violently to the floor. His two young sisters were horrified, but their pleas fell on deaf ears.
“I’ll teach you to run away from me!” Salim lashed Bakhita with his whip and stomped her with his boots. By the end of the beating, the girl was unconscious. Salim kicked her one last time and left. Slaves quietly carried the child out of the room and placed her gently on a straw mat.
Her recovery took more than a month. When she was better, Bakhita was given new household duties. But all was not well. Salim insisted that, at the first opportunity, Bakhita had to be sold.
Bakhita froze as the vase crashed to the floor.