Student Essay

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September 1781 Dear Diary, All the pain I was put through being captured, auctioned and being forced to work long hours on scorching hot fields, memories of my old tribe and my free life will be etched in my brain forever. The dry season of 1781 soon became a season that however much I tried to forget would stay imprinted in my brain and my heart forever. My name is Jabbari; I was named by our tribal leader, Imamu. I was called Jabbari, meaning courageous after the acts of my father, the strongest warrior of the Gwabyo tribe. I grew up like any other child on my village, picking up new tricks from my parents to prepare myself for manhood. I was soon growing up in my father’s footsteps, becoming the relentless and courageous warrior he once was in his youthful days. Out of all my brothers and sisters I was the fastest, the quickest and the most tactical. Throughout the whole village I was quickly becoming the most likely to be the successor to the current tribal leader. The whole village waited in awe for young Jabbari to go through his adolescent years so he could one day become the prestigious leader they needed. I had a few weeks left till I was to build my own hut. Something that not only me and my family had waited for but something that the whole Gwabyo tribe lied in wait for - an event that could possibly change the history of the Gwabyo tribe forever. My father like always sat me down after a nice helping of deer – that I’d helped catch – and warned me. ‘They’ll come one day son, the white men will come, they will lure you with trinkets and weaponry from the western world but remember never give one of your own to them for trinkets. You are better than that; you have to be the leader everyone will remember, not one everyone will despise’. I heeded my father’s advice and promised whatever I was wished and offered never would I give any of my own to

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