Account 1: 16
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March 1838To my reader, Salutations. I am known as Azaan RahimTakata, meaning “strong, merciful and pure”.I was born on the dawn of the 29
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August 1827 in the village of Imzouren in the far north fields of Morocco. I have lived there all mylife with my older sister, Jasira Kabisa, and my Father, Haidar Dahoma. I have been told that my mother, Rahema Yakini, bereavedwhen I was born. Taken from us through soul and unto Allah. To think,I will never experience having a mother. My sibling now completes thestrenuous domestic tasks in the mud hut I live in, whereas me and myfather go out and catch the fish from the vast ocean and prepare it for supper; that has been our tradition.I live in a mud hut, about 10ft wide radius and 5 to 6ft tall; fairlycramped with three people living inside. Anyway I am excessivelygrateful for my family and home – as I have a life of just wondering,running and herding.Let me tell you a little bit about my life and where I live; I was born inmy own house (which unfortunately is where my mother died), I havegrown ‘til the present day, learning by my father how to herd goat anda few cattle, learning how to fish from the ocean, and learning –absolute and constant learning over my religion – Islam. You see, mytribe (the Berbers), were one of the most unique tribes, as myprevious generations roots back thirty-hundred years.My dear friend, Tale-Tamu, is also one of us Berbers, and has beenmy friend for the past eight years of my life.We would usually meet up by the bank of the ocean, and greet eachother, and he would usually say, “pray tell me what we are doingtoday, Azaan,” and I would answer, “why do not we go and play in thefields?” he would say, “an excellent idea, my good friend. Shall wego?” and I would reply, “Yes. Yes we should.”Now a couple of years ago I was told I had a surprise inside myfather’s hut, and as I walked in I strained my eyes to see beside thehut that young and grown men were walking, half of them (the youngmen) were covered by the sacks used for collecting the maize.When I was allowed out, a local 12-year-old had questioned me,“have not you heard the rumour?”I replied, “What rumour. Tell me, please.”He then answered, “those 15 year olds are going to go into manhood.”“what do you mean??” I asked
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cool, i thought i would take a look at this for inspiration, im doing the slave project at school at the moment aswell