Slave diary

My name is Elijah Zumba; I am going to tell my life story. I was born in 1712 in a small area very close to Buganda. My early life was peaceful; nothing bothered us until that certain day and every day after that. Life was so normal, my sister, Mila, and I went to the local school and then after we played hide and seek in what we called our jungle. In the day my father would go hunting and my mother would stay with the other peoples of the tribe and prepare herbal remedies for the men who may get injured hunting. My family gathered at a small monument and prayed each morning and night, thanking our gods. I had never fully come across a white person before. Only when one would walk by and they would look strangely at us as if we were animals. But soon enough they were the animals, and I learned to hate them.
The day I was captured was the scariest day of my life. I was 13 years old and we were all carrying on in our normal lives, when we heard a distant scream. It was unusual in a small area like ours. The out of nowhere four men came running into our camp. They scattered going for anyone they could. One got my mother, I looked round to get my father but he was gone. She was screaming at me and Mila to run as fast as we could, to runaway so no one could get us. I went to grab Mila but a stronger looking white man grabbed her first. I ordered him to put her down but then he got me too. He dragged us by our wrists and then tied rope around them. As I looked ahead and saw many more black people like us. Maybe twelve or so but at that stage I didn’t realize that there would be a LOT more. We walked for 2 hours straight and the whole way Mila and I cried. Our father had disappeared and our mother was not in the line either. My last memory of her was her screams. Her extravagant scream, warning us to runaway as fast as we could.
After about 2 hours of walking we arrived at a very big ship, I’d never seen something so big. The out the bridge we had to walk