Socialist Commonwealth
Establishing Nation
"To the back of the line, Himyari. Your traitor kind eats last."
Amadi Nwadike lowered his head and looked sideways. He had been here for only a few days, but he had quickly learned not to pick any fights with the white inmates. To them, he was both a traitor and a negro and though they weren't sure what's worse, they knew Amadi was fair game. Neither the other prisoners nor the wardens would protect him.
He was thousands of kilometers away from his home in the so called Free State of Orashi. A protectorate of the Implarians it was officially independent, but curiously enough, the Implarians themselves made little pretense about it being anything but a colony. The President even appointed a colonial governor to the Himyari territory.
Amadi hadn't been much more than a child still when he fell in with a crowd of independence fighters. The 16 year old boy had been tasked with transporting letters between units and the rest of the group kept him far away from any actual raid on the Implarians. He was too young, too inexperienced.
Ultimately, this saved his life.
When the Great War unfolded, the group saw their chance to stage an open rebellion. They had heard of the brutal fighting abroad and figured the Implarians were too busy to reinforce the colonial garrison. They had never received news that their overlords weren't actually participating in the war.
Eventually, the rebellion was short, brutal and futile. Most of Amadis comrades were hanged, but the judge was lenient with Amadi: 20 years in prison for the 16 year old boy. A long time, but he could still have a life after that. Amadi breathed a sigh of relief back then.
He hadn't known that prison would be in Implaria, that he'd serve his time in between whites who despised him, that he'd spend 20 years eating potatoes and corn until he had forgotten the taste of yams, that he'd freeze in the winter and speak and hear only Engellish for 20 long years.
As told, he had turned to the end of the queue and when it was finally his turn to get dinner, only the scraps from the bottom of the pot were left. A grimey, oily gruel that made him yearn for his mothers beef stew. It was still food nonetheless and he was hungry, so he took his serving and scurried to the far corner of the mess hall where a table had already emptied, leaving him space to sit alone.
As he sat down, another white man approached him and Amadi had to repress a flash of anger at the realization that he wasn't even allowed to eat without being humiliated first.
"Hey, Himyari."
Amadi said nothing as the man sat down across the table from him.
"You're a rebel, I hear? A real freedom fighter?"
Again, Amadi said nothing, but he knew that was just as likely to get him into trouble. It didn't matter what he did, if the whites needed an excuse, they'd make one up.
"I understand that Henry and his boys gave you some trouble earlier? They're a nuisance, but they are also cowards. If you need any help with them, just tell me. They don't dare touch someone from a Union."
"Amadi looked up and only they now noticed the man smiling at him. It was a warm, honest smile. Perhaps the first of its kind he had ever seen on a white face.
" A... union?" He asked in bewilderment.
" A labor union, kid! Most of us here are card carrying socialists, organized proletarians, revolutionary workers... you get the idea. The union protects their own, even within these walls."
The union-man spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.
"Question is: are you one of us?"
Amadi Nwadike lowered his head and looked sideways. He had been here for only a few days, but he had quickly learned not to pick any fights with the white inmates. To them, he was both a traitor and a negro and though they weren't sure what's worse, they knew Amadi was fair game. Neither the other prisoners nor the wardens would protect him.
He was thousands of kilometers away from his home in the so called Free State of Orashi. A protectorate of the Implarians it was officially independent, but curiously enough, the Implarians themselves made little pretense about it being anything but a colony. The President even appointed a colonial governor to the Himyari territory.
Amadi hadn't been much more than a child still when he fell in with a crowd of independence fighters. The 16 year old boy had been tasked with transporting letters between units and the rest of the group kept him far away from any actual raid on the Implarians. He was too young, too inexperienced.
Ultimately, this saved his life.
When the Great War unfolded, the group saw their chance to stage an open rebellion. They had heard of the brutal fighting abroad and figured the Implarians were too busy to reinforce the colonial garrison. They had never received news that their overlords weren't actually participating in the war.
Eventually, the rebellion was short, brutal and futile. Most of Amadis comrades were hanged, but the judge was lenient with Amadi: 20 years in prison for the 16 year old boy. A long time, but he could still have a life after that. Amadi breathed a sigh of relief back then.
He hadn't known that prison would be in Implaria, that he'd serve his time in between whites who despised him, that he'd spend 20 years eating potatoes and corn until he had forgotten the taste of yams, that he'd freeze in the winter and speak and hear only Engellish for 20 long years.
As told, he had turned to the end of the queue and when it was finally his turn to get dinner, only the scraps from the bottom of the pot were left. A grimey, oily gruel that made him yearn for his mothers beef stew. It was still food nonetheless and he was hungry, so he took his serving and scurried to the far corner of the mess hall where a table had already emptied, leaving him space to sit alone.
As he sat down, another white man approached him and Amadi had to repress a flash of anger at the realization that he wasn't even allowed to eat without being humiliated first.
"Hey, Himyari."
Amadi said nothing as the man sat down across the table from him.
"You're a rebel, I hear? A real freedom fighter?"
Again, Amadi said nothing, but he knew that was just as likely to get him into trouble. It didn't matter what he did, if the whites needed an excuse, they'd make one up.
"I understand that Henry and his boys gave you some trouble earlier? They're a nuisance, but they are also cowards. If you need any help with them, just tell me. They don't dare touch someone from a Union."
"Amadi looked up and only they now noticed the man smiling at him. It was a warm, honest smile. Perhaps the first of its kind he had ever seen on a white face.
" A... union?" He asked in bewilderment.
" A labor union, kid! Most of us here are card carrying socialists, organized proletarians, revolutionary workers... you get the idea. The union protects their own, even within these walls."
The union-man spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.
"Question is: are you one of us?"