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Chapter Ten
As I once more fled to the solitude of dreams, the weaker I had become, the weaker my grasp over my dreams as I was instead swept into memories I had no desire to remember. To my chagrin and shame, I was forced to re-live them all, the pains and regrets and then this particular one I was swept unto like the erratic flow of a river pregnant with rains.
I saw myself strolling through the slave markets of Ajashe Ipo; now known as Porto-novo, invisible to the eyes of the the mortal traders and merchants. The gathering of clouds and the distant rumble of thunder heralded my arrival, the traders throwing a few worried glances at the sky wondering whether it might rain.
All this I ignored as I moved closer to the objects of both my curiosity and loathing. The foreign Portuguese merchants.
For a while I stood and watched the foreigners argue with Yorùbá, Fon and Ewẹ traders, haggling and bartering goods, salts and gold in exchange for slave
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