AHN – Chapter 9 Africans living in Mito (Part 1)

The season was turning towards summer.

The summers in Mito are short but humid, with many cloudy days. Being about two and a half ri (a little over ten kilometers) from both the sea and the mountains, it is affected by winds from both directions. Though the rainy season seemed to have ended, the sky was still overcast today.

The hydrangeas planted beneath the white plaster walls were still blooming vividly in purple, though the flowers at the ends of the clusters were starting to wilt slightly. Yet, they seemed to be proclaiming their presence with all their might.

A sweet fragrance drifted from somewhere. When Sukezo looked up, he saw white gardenias with bright yellow centers peeking over the well-worn Kenin-ji style fence. He smiled, realizing that this was the source of the scent.

The section where Kamon’s residence was located was on the southern side of the second bailey, in an area known as Nakagoten. This district housed members of the clan with relatively old lineage or those with various duties requiring frequent service. Kamon belonged to the latter group.

The simple wooden gate was open. He peeked inside and called out, “Excuse me.” Immediately, a voice responded, “Yes,” and a lightly dressed servant appeared from the courtyard.

“Well, well, Mr. Sukezo, thank you for coming,” the servant greeted him cheerfully.

“Hello, Kyusuke. Is Kamon here?”

Before Kyusuke could respond, Kamon emerged from the shadows of the open shoji screen.

“Ah, Mr. Sukezo, thank you for your trouble.”

“How are Demba and Kanga doing?” Sukezo asked.

The two black men who had been “hired” by Mitsukuni had been given the names Demba and Kanga. They lived in a longhouse built on a section of the property separated by a hedge. Kyusuke took care of their daily needs.

Kamon pursed his lips and shook his head slightly.

“Well, watching them is a series of surprises. There’s never a dull moment.”

Sukezo tilted his head in confusion.

“I don’t understand… How are they with the language? Have they started to understand it?”

Kamon shook his head again.

“It’s more than ‘a little.’ They hardly have any trouble with daily conversations now.”

Sukezo’s eyes widened slightly.

“Already? Isn’t that rather quick?”

He thought it had not even been half a year yet.

“I don’t know how their minds work, but they have an astonishing memory for languages. Basically, they don’t forget any word they hear once. It’s like a dry sponge absorbing water. It’s amazing,” Kamon said.

“Hmm,” Sukezo muttered, impressed.

“Perhaps the ‘useful blacks’ the captain mentioned referred to this. How do they manage such a feat?”

“I don’t really know,” Kamon replied, shaking his head and folding his arms. “But I think they remember by ‘sounds.’ They seem to endlessly replay the ‘sounds’ they hear in their heads. Just my guess.”

Sukezo folded his arms as well, pondering.

“On the other hand, they are completely hopeless with reading and writing,” Kamon added, tapping his head with his fingertip. “The very concept of ‘characters’ seems foreign to them. It’s quite challenging. It’s like trying to teach a chicken to fly.”

Sukezo glanced slightly away.

“Interesting. Without written language, how did they communicate laws and rules in their original country? Do they have any historical records?”

“I was curious about that too, so I asked them. They said they used ‘songs’ and ‘dances’ to convey them.”

“Songs? Like Japanese waka?”

“No,” Kamon shook his head. “I listened to a bit, and it sounded like a mix of ancient chants and folk songs… something like that.”

It’s not uncommon for ancient peoples without writing to use songs for transmission. Famous oral traditions include the ancient Greek ‘Iliad’ and ‘Odyssey’ from the eighth century BCE and the ancient Indian hymn ‘Rigveda.’ These had unique rhythms that helped prevent discrepancies in oral transmission. It wouldn’t be surprising if medieval African natives used similar methods.

“And what are they doing now?” Sukezo asked.

Kamon pointed to the edge of the garden.

“They’re in front of their house. Do you want to see them?”

Sukezo peered towards the shed at the edge of the garden.

Demba was sitting on a faded, old bench, carving a long wooden stick with a small knife. It was over six feet long, longer than his height. He was intently sharpening the tip of the long stick. His long limbs, exposed by his short kimono, glistened black.

“They still don’t look right in kimonos,” Sukezo thought.

Kanga was kneeling on the ground, splitting logs with a hatchet.

“Splitting firewood? Isn’t that Kyusuke’s job?” Sukezo asked, glancing at Kamon as they walked over to the two men.

“Kanga insisted on doing it. He said something like, ‘We can’t just eat for free without working.'”

“Hmm,” Sukezo nodded, impressed, and raised his hand in greeting to the two men.

They stopped their work and bowed their heads.

“They’ve already mastered everyday gestures,” Sukezo thought, somewhat impressed. He crouched down in front of Demba.

“What are you making, Demba?”

“Spear,” Demba muttered.

“A spear? Are you preparing for battle?”

Sukezo hadn’t expected his joke to be understood but asked anyway.

“No battle now. No spear now. Hard to hunt,” Demba replied in his usual low, emotionless voice. Only his thick lips moved, reminding Sukezo of the mechanical dolls he had seen in Edo.

He exhaled, somewhat impressed that they could really communicate.

“Hunting? Do you use spears for hunting?”

In this period, hunting in Japan usually involved bows and arrows, traps, or guns. It’s said that farmers owned more guns than samurai, mainly for pest control to protect crops. Considering the scarcity of animal protein, it’s likely that the animals killed for this purpose were used for food.

“Demba, good with spear. Always get game aimed at. In battle, no one can beat Demba with a spear,” Kanga said, his eyes still on the wood. He lifted the hatchet and split a log cleanly with a clear sound.

It seemed Kanga had mastered the skill of splitting wood as well.

Kanga, too, showed no expression. His tone contained no pride or praise, just a plain statement of fact.

Sukezo thought of a time when he had remembered a certain traveler.

People who walked through hell had no need for pride or humility. They had no one to share such feelings with. For them, nothing held value except the reality in front of them.

Living or stopping living—nothing else mattered in their world.

Sukezo realized once again that these two had lived in such a world.