Chapter 1: A Spark in the Shadows
The village of Kanabatandi, in the midst of Kiang, lay bathed in the golden hues of sunset, its dusty roads quiet except for the occasional bleat of a goat. Astou crouched by the well, hauling up the rope with practised strength. Sweat beaded on her brow, but she didn’t pause, her mind elsewhere.
“Astou! Hurry up with that water!” her stepmother’s voice rang out sharply from the compound. “The sun will set, and you’ve still got chores to finish!”
“I’m coming!” Astou called back, her voice tinged with frustration. She pulled the bucket up with one final heave and set it aside. For a moment, she stood there, staring at the horizon, her hands gripping the rope tightly. She could hear the chatter of the villagers in the distance—preparations for the Governor’s visit tomorrow were in full swing.
“Why do they care so much about him?” she muttered under her breath.
Behind her, her younger brother, Samba, appeared, his bare feet kicking up dust. “They say he’s a big man, Astou. Maybe he’ll bring us electricity. Or a road!” He grinned, his teeth white against his dusty face.
Astou laughed bitterly. “Electricity won’t put food on our table, Samba.”
Samba’s grin faltered. “But you’ll still be the one to welcome him, right? Everyone’s saying it. The prettiest girl in the village gets to kneel and give him water.”
Astou froze. She had overheard the whispers, the envious murmurs of the other girls, but she hadn’t paid them much attention. Now, the weight of what tomorrow would bring settled on her chest.
The Governor Arrives
The next day, the village transformed. The only tent they owned, patched and worn, stood proudly at the centre of the dusty square. The elders bustled about in their finest traditional robes, their faces lined with anticipation and worry. Drummers played a steady rhythm, their beats echoing across the fields.
Astou stood by the well, her heart pounding. Her father had insisted she wear her best dress—a faded but clean blue kaba. She hated how tightly it clung to her growing figure, drawing attention she didn’t want.
“Remember, Astou,” her father had said that morning, his tone unusually gentle. “This is an honour. The Governor… he notices people. Important people.”
She hadn’t answered him, but his words lingered as she knelt by the well, waiting for the convoy to arrive.
The sound of engines broke the rhythm of the drums. Dust rose in the distance as a fleet of shiny black vehicles approached, their windows tinted and their presence imposing. The villagers gathered, their murmurs turning into excited whispers.
Astou’s breath quickened as the first car stopped a few feet from her. The Governor stepped out, his white boubou gleaming in the sun. He was taller than she’d imagined, his face smooth and confident. He glanced around, his expression unreadable, until his eyes landed on her.
“Kneel and offer him the water!” her father hissed from behind her.
Astou’s hands trembled as she lifted the cup, her eyes fixed on the ground. “Welcome, Sir. May this water refresh you.”
The Governor took the cup, his fingers brushing hers briefly. She dared to glance up and found his gaze lingering on her, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.
“Astou,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Astou,” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. Then, turning to the elders, he said, “You have chosen well. She is remarkable.”
A Sudden Turn
Later that evening, Astou sat outside the hut, watching the stars. The excitement of the day had left her restless. Her father emerged from the shadows, his expression unreadable.
“The Governor wishes to see you tomorrow,” he said quietly.
Astou’s stomach twisted. “Why?”
“He didn’t say,” her father replied, his tone sharper now. “But you will go. This is an opportunity for our family.”
“But I—”
“No arguments!” he barked, cutting her off. “Do you know how many girls in this village would trade places with you?”
Astou looked away, her throat tight. She didn’t want to argue, but dread coiled in her stomach like a serpent.
The Governor’s Invitation
The next day, a car arrived at their compound. The driver, dressed sharply in a suit, stepped out and motioned for Astou.
“You’re to come with us,” he said curtly.
Astou hesitated, her feet rooted to the ground. Her father nudged her forward, his excitement poorly concealed.
“Go, Astou,” he whispered. “This is your chance.”
As the car sped away, the landscape of Kanabatandi blurred into nothingness. Astou sat stiffly, her hands clasped in her lap. When they arrived at a sprawling residence on the outskirts of the town, the driver opened the door for her.
Inside, the Governor greeted her warmly, his smile as polished as the marble floors. “Astou,” he said, motioning for her to sit. “You’re special. I see great potential in you.”
His words sounded kind, but there was something beneath them—something that made her uneasy.
Over the weeks that followed, the Governor’s visits to the village became more frequent, and each time, his attention focused on Astou. He brought her gifts: colourful scarves, shiny bangles, and delicate shoes. The villagers whispered about her newfound status, their envy mixed with curiosity.
One day, a car arrived for her again. This time, it wasn’t just for a visit. Her father beamed as the Governor’s men loaded her belongings into the trunk.
“You’re going to the town now,” he said proudly. “You’ll be taken care of.”
Astou didn’t protest. Something deep inside her whispered that there was no use fighting. As the car drove away, she watched her village fade into the distance, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her life was about to change forever.
Chapter 2: The Cage
The car pulled into a quiet neighbourhood on the outskirts of Kwinella, its wide streets lined with tall walls and gated homes. Astou’s stomach churned as the driver stopped in front of a modest but well-maintained house. The windows were covered with heavy curtains, giving it a cloistered, impenetrable air.
“This will be your home,” the driver said, stepping out to open the door for her. He motioned for her to follow him inside, where a middle-aged woman greeted them. She was neatly dressed, her face sharp and calculating.
“Fatou,” the driver said curtly, addressing the woman, “the Governor expects her to be comfortable. Make sure she has everything she needs.”
Fatou nodded but said nothing, her piercing eyes studying Astou from head to toe. Once the driver left, she closed the door and turned to Astou, her expression hardening.
“Rule number one,” she said, her tone brisk. “You do not leave this house unless you are told to. Rule number two: no visitors, no calls, no questions.”
Astou’s heart sank. “But—”
“No buts,” Fatou interrupted sharply. “The Governor will visit when he wishes. Until then, you’ll do as you’re told.”
Astou nodded reluctantly, her unease growing. She followed Fatou down a narrow hallway to a small, sparsely furnished but clean bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time, she felt the weight of her isolation.
Days turned into weeks, and Astou’s life became a monotonous routine. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house, and her only interactions were with Fatou and the occasional guard stationed outside. The Governor visited sporadically, bringing her gifts—cheap jewellery, brightly coloured fabrics, and cosmetics.
“You’re beautiful, Astou,” he would say, his smile warm but distant. “You deserve the best.”
But the best never came. He rarely stayed long, leaving her with promises of a brighter future that felt increasingly hollow.
One evening, as she sat alone in the dimly lit living room, she mustered the courage to ask him the question that had been gnawing at her.
“When will I be able to see my family?” she asked, her voice trembling.
The Governor’s smile faltered. “In time,” he said dismissively. “For now, focus on yourself.”
Astou nodded, biting back her frustration. She felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage, her freedom stripped away in exchange for empty assurances.
One morning, Astou woke feeling nauseous and weak. Fatou, noticing her pale complexion, narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“When was your last cycle?” she asked bluntly.
Astou’s heart sank. “I… I don’t remember.”
Fatou’s face darkened. Without another word, she grabbed her bag and left the house. Hours later, she returned with a small package and thrust it into Astou’s hands.
“Take this,” she ordered.
Astou stared at the pregnancy test, her hands trembling. The truth she had been avoiding was staring her in the face. When the result confirmed her fears, Fatou’s expression shifted to one of barely concealed panic.
“This complicates things,” she muttered under her breath, pacing the room.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Astou asked, her voice breaking.
Fatou stopped pacing, her face cold. “That’s not for me to decide. The Governor will handle it.”
When the Governor arrived later that evening, his demeanour was different. The polished charm had disappeared, replaced by a man visibly shaken and agitated.
“This is unacceptable,” he hissed, pacing the room. “Do you have any idea what kind of scandal this could cause?”
Astou sat silently, tears streaming down her face. She had no words to defend herself.
The Governor stopped and stared at her, his expression hardening. “You’ll leave here tomorrow. I’ll make arrangements.”
The next day, Astou was driven to a run-down bar in Serrekunda, known locally as Kerr Fat Cham. The woman who greeted her introduced herself as Fat Cham, a heavyset figure with a sharp tongue and a sinister smile.
“The Governor says you’re my responsibility now,” Fat Cham said, her tone dripping with mockery. “Don’t worry, little one. I’ll take good care of you.”
Astou’s heart sank as she realized she had been sold—discarded like a broken toy.
Life at Kerr Fat Cham was a nightmare. Astou was locked in a small room, forced into a life she never imagined for herself. Fat Cham treated her as property, sending men to her room under the guise of “entertainment.”
At first, Astou resisted, fighting back with every ounce of strength she had. But the punishments were swift and brutal. Over time, she learned to comply, burying her anger and humiliation beneath a mask of indifference.
The weeks dragged on at Kerr Fat Cham, each day blending into the next in a haze of despair. Astou’s pregnancy progressed under harsh conditions, her body bearing the brunt of the abuse and neglect. Fat Cham showed no sympathy, her sharp tongue cutting Astou down at every opportunity.
“You’re lucky the Governor hasn’t forgotten you completely,” Fat Cham sneered one day, handing Astou a bowl of watery soup. “Do what you’re told, and maybe you’ll survive this.”
Astou didn’t respond, her hands instinctively cradling her growing belly. She had long since learned that words held no power in this place. Her only focus was the life growing inside her—a fragile hope in a world that had stolen everything else.
It was a stormy night when Astou went into labour. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, ripping through her with unrelenting force. Fat Cham summoned a local midwife, a brusque woman who worked quickly and silently.
Hours later, Astou held her son in her arms for the first time. He was small but healthy, his tiny cries piercing the oppressive silence of the bar. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered to him, “You’re all I have now. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
But her promise was short-lived.
The next morning, Fat Cham entered the room, her face a mask of annoyance. “The Governor’s orders,” she said flatly. “The boy goes to an orphanage. You have no say in the matter.”
Astou clutched her son tightly, her heart breaking. “No! Please, he’s all I have!”
Fat Cham sighed, motioning to the guard. “Take the boy. Make sure he’s delivered safely.”
Astou screamed and fought, her desperation giving her strength, but it was no use. The guard pried the baby from her arms, and within moments, he was gone. Astou collapsed onto the floor, her sobs echoing through the room.
After her son was taken, something inside Astou broke. She stopped fighting, her resistance replaced by a hollow compliance that Fat Cham mistook for submission.
“She’s finally learning,” Fat Cham said smugly to one of her patrons. “They all break eventually.”
But Astou wasn’t broken. Not entirely. Beneath the surface, a fire still burned—a determination to survive, not for herself, but for the son she had lost. She clung to the hope that he was safe, that one day she might find him and reclaim the life that had been stolen from her.
One day, a young man entered her room. Unlike the others, he seemed nervous, his hands shaking as he avoided her gaze.
“You don’t want to be here, do you?” he asked softly.
Astou’s heart skipped a beat. She studied him carefully, sensing a kindness she hadn’t encountered in months.
“Do you?” she countered, her voice barely above a whisper.
The young man shook his head. “No. But maybe… maybe I can help you.”
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Astou felt a glimmer of hope. She didn’t know if she could trust him, but she was willing to take the chance.
Months later, the young man returned. His name was Abdou, and his visits had become more frequent. He always seemed more interested in talking than anything else. He brought her small gifts—a book, a piece of jewellery, even a rare chocolate bar. His kindness was a stark contrast to the darkness of her world.
As they sat together one evening, Abdou leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “I can get you out of here.”
Astou’s heart raced. She had dreamed of escape but had never dared to believe it was possible. “Why would you help me?” she asked, her voice filled with suspicion.
Abdou hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. “Because no one deserves this. And because… I think I can trust you.”
Astou studied him carefully, searching for any hint of deceit. Finding none, she nodded. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
Abdou’s plan was simple but risky. He would arrange for a car to pick her up during one of his visits, bribing the guards to look the other way. From there, she would be taken to a safe house on the outskirts of Serrekunda, where she could start over.
On the night of the escape, Astou’s hands trembled as she packed what little she had—a few clothes, a photograph of her son, which Fat Cham gave as her only gift, and the book Abdou had given her. When the car arrived, her heart pounded as she slipped past the guards, Abdou’s whispered instructions echoing in her mind.
“Stay calm. Don’t look back. Just keep moving.”
The driver, a middle-aged man with a kind face, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You’re safe now,” he said softly. “We’ll get you where you need to go.”
For the first time in years, Astou allowed herself to hope.
The safe house was modest but clean, and its sparse furnishings were a welcome change from the suffocating squalor of Kerr Fat Cham. Mariam, the woman who greeted her, was kind but firm, and her no-nonsense demeanour was reassuring.
“You’ve been through hell,” Mariam said, handing Astou a cup of tea. “But you’re not alone anymore. We’ll help you rebuild.”
Astou nodded, tears streaming down her face. For the first time since her son was taken, she felt a glimmer of possibility—a chance to reclaim her life and, perhaps, find her way back to him.
