THE UNIQUE EXPERIENCE: PART II
I gasped for breath when I looked at the heap of heavy iron on the floor. I suddenly was filled with fear, feeling that something was totally going wrong. It took some further seconds until I found my voice.
"What's that?" I cried, totally upset.
"That are your chains, slave," answered Mohamed, laying extra emphasis on the word 'slave.' His voice and the expression on his face had suddenly changed. His voice now sounded threatening and his facial expression was inauspicious.
"S-s-slave?" I stammered perplexedly. In what kind of nightmare did I get myself into?
"Yes, a slave," Mohamed replied very harshly. "From now on you are a slave, boy. And those are the chains you will have to wear on our galley."
I was totally panicstricken now.
"A s-s-slave on a galley???"
"Yes, you understand quite well. Exactly on the boat on which you've booked a seat as a rower for the regatta."
"Yes, but as a free rower, not as a slave!"
"That's the same, boy. We have no free rowers here. Rowing is only for slaves, so when somebody applies for the position of a rower, he automatically applies for the position of a slave. And thus he will be processed."
I didn't know what to say now. I was tongue tied.
"So you'd better not make trouble, and just do what you're told from now on. Pick up those chains and follow me to get them riveted on next door".
"Noooooo!", I cried. "You can't do this. I am a free man!"
"Until recently, so were all the men waiting downstairs for your company at the oars. But now they are mere galleyslaves, wearing heavy chains for the rest of their lives. And so will you."
For a moment I was completely speechless again, searching for words. A lot of thoughts crossed my mind in a chaotic way in mere seconds, I was totally off balance. Flashes of my written contacts from Holland with the other Mohamed, the sometimes strange questions which were mixed up with the ordinary ones, appeared before my eyes. Mohamed - where was this Mohamed? Had his picture been real? Did he even exist? Or was he just a fake, too? I dazedly stared at the floor, as it now started to dawn on me.
Then I heard again the harsh voice of that second Mohamed who stood in front of me in reality.
"You are a slave now, boy, slave G-46."
"Slave G-f-f-forty-six?"
"Yes, that's the number of your seat on board, as you already know, on our new galley called Galicia where you will serve from now on, so its G will also be added to your number as a slave, to distinguish you from all the other slaves also numbered 46 on board the other boats. As you will understand, galleyslaves don't have a name, they just have a number and it's stamped on the slavetag swinging under the brand new heavy iron collar we will rivet around your despicable slave neck in a few minutes!"
If such a thing were possible after how I looked already, I must have looked even more upset now. A collar? An iron collar? Apart from those chains I would have to wear an iron collar??!
"You can't do that", I shouted again, "You can't just chain me! I ... I came here voluntarily."
"Yes, you came here voluntarily," answered Mohamed, pronouncing each separate syllable of the word 'voluntarily' emphatically and stressing it in a very special way.
"You are totally right. You came here voluntarily. Nobody has forced you to come to us. You yourself decided to come. But now that you're here, you just suddenly changed your mind, huh? Oh no, boy. You can't just suddenly change your mind now. It's too late for that. We have reckoned with you, we have made our investments to do you a good turn, everything is already planned. It is impossible to stop it now. Forget it!"
To do you a good turn .... Were Mohamed and those other two men in their strange 'Roman' dresses, who now played the killers of innocence, completely crazy or just very cunning criminals, hiding their figured out plan to kidnap and enslave dozens of young men in an unsurpassed cynical way behind a smokescreen of pretended generosity and unselfishness?
Mohamed had paused shortly after showing his feigned compliance with what would have been just my own project, to burst out again: "We have had more wavering guys like you. Promising us a lot, yes, writing that they look great and that they are muscled and athletic and so on. They stress that they love to row, they boast that they have won a lot of regattas in the past, they assure us they will do that again - and then, when we have arranged it all for them, for the trip of their lifetime, they want to run away. Tschhh! All those coward westerners! I'm fed up with them, totally fed up! Spoiled, lazy, flabby fags you are, yes, all of you! Complaining when they don't want to accept the consequences of what they did and agreed on. No way, boy, no way! It's too late for it now! You will have to serve and slave at our galley now, there is no escape! There will be no possibility for you to run away, as there isn't for any of all those self-deluded cocky boys now locked up downstairs! And yes, to prevent our slaves even to think about the possibility of such a kind of subordination at any moment in the future, we keep them always carefully chained to their oars."
"But the advertisement ...."
"What's wrong with the advertisement??!? he barked angrily.
"It ... ? I started again, searching for words - and then stopped. I recalled the advertisement in my mind that I had read over and over at home before deciding to make this trip, in order to detect a crucial lie. But I couldn't find any, at least not immediately. In fact I knew the words by heart .... Looking for a unique experience?, it had started .... Looking for a unique experience .... An experiment, they meant, a bloody experiment, I added in sore distress in thought.
"What's wrong with the advertisement, slave??!? Mohamed now shouted, even more angrily. "Is there anything in it that is not true?"
It was the first time he - and somebody in my life at all - had adressed me directly as 'slave."
"Don't we offer you a unique experience?"
Yes, they did, I had to agree grimly. Now the whole text, word after word, came into my mind again .....
"Looking for a unique experience? Saudi Arabia for the first time offers the possibility to participate in unconventional summer trips on the Red Sea. Sheik Ali Zaq searches for trained and muscular young men to row his boats in a challenging competitive setting. Ages 18 to 30. Skilled English-speaking crew to direct the oarsmen. Food, drink, special uniform and sleeping accommodations included. Meet like-minded people from all over the world. A chance of a lifetime you will never be able to forget!"
Now the scales fell from my eyes ....
To participate in an unconventional summer trip .... Searching for trained and muscular young men to row .... Food, drink, special uniform and sleeping accommodations all included .... A special uniform.... Uniform! The 'special uniform' of a galleyslave they had meant with that! Those heavy shackles and chains - they were the special uniform.
Now all became clear .... Indeed, 'a chance of a lifetime you will never be able to forget." Chance of a lifetime - how cynical those words sounded to me now, in the moment I started understanding the hidden truth behind them! Indeed: if what Mohamed said to me became true indeed, I would never forget .... Looking at the advertisement with my new knowledge of the last minutes, all became clear. There was nothing to complain of in the advertisement text, nothing happening now was literally contrary to it. How to argue against it? So not knowing what to say, for awhile I was silent.
"So you agree, there is nothing, nothing wrong with the advertisement, slave." There was Mohameds rough voice again.
I stayed silent once more.
"So you agree we do nothing now that is contrary to the text," Mohamed said satisfied. "Then we at least agree on that."
Than he continued, in an explaining tone: "We offer what we promised. Nothing else. You were looking for an unconventional summer trip, and you will get an unconventional summer trip. You were in for rowing, so you will row. You were promised a special uniform, and here it is - the indispensable uniform of all galleyslaves: a simple loin cloth and the accessory heavy chains!"
The situation was hopeless - what could I do, totally naked, against three strong threatening men around me? - but nevertheless I did scrape together all my courage and tried to say in a neutral stating tone: "I apparently didn't understood your advertisement quite well, so I now want to decide otherwise."
"You want to decide otherwise, slave?!? now Mohamed jeered with some astonishment.
"As a slave you have nothing to want and to decide any more, G-46!"
Than, after a short pause, very loud:
"As a slave you have just to obey!!!"
I became suddenly rebellious and uttered with all the willpower left in me: "I am not a slave and I will not row your galley. I will go home now."
"O, you will row, slave, you will."
If possible, Mohamed now sounded even more derisive. Then with disdain he spat on the floor in front of me, on my future chains.
"You will row with all the vigor that's inside your muscled slave body," he shouted.
"And believe me, there is a lot more vigor in a slave's body than the slave knows himself at the start. Our overseers know how to get it out. They know how to let you row, they will succeed, don't doubt that! You will learn to know them, you will learn to know their bullwhips, and if you stay so stubborn as you are now, you will learn to know both soon! They have broken much stronger types into slavery than you, guys who thought they would allways be able to resist our power. But now out of fear of the lash they toil like all other galleyslaves, forever chained to their oar!"
He stopped short, and then continued, speaking more slowly in a very compelling tone: "So we will now start the real enslavement procedure, slave G-46. And don't make any problems, because we don't like that. There are new customers for processing into slavery arriving soon, and we have reserved a few minutes for their transformation, too! So don't be so egoistic as to steal their time by holding us up any longer and disarranging our strict timetable! Wrap that loin cloth around your waist now and then pick up your slave chains from the floor to get them riveted on at the anvil that is waiting for you next door."
I looked with horror and disgust at the heavy irons at my feet that I was destined to wear. No, never! I wasn't becoming a galleyslave! Never would I wear chains and serve them at the oar! My wish to survive and to stay free was too strong to accept that fate.
So, in a burst of despair, I suddenly rushed to the door through which I had entered 15 minutes or so ago, hoping to escape. Of course I didn't get very far, although the three men seemed a little bit surprised by my desertion. But when I tried to open the door, it was locked. Apart from that, in the same moment when I caught the doorlatch, I already was caught by Ahmed and the third guy, who until then hadn't said a word.
While Mohamed laughed loudly about my naivite, they hauled me back to my future chains. I tried to resist, I struggled, I sprawled, but all in vain - those two men together just were too strong for me. Nearly out of breath after having used all the strength that was inside me, in the end I had to give up - and that decided my fate, that in fact was already inescapable from the moment I entered this building. After my arms were forcefully pulled behind my back, I was dragged in front of Mohamed, who slapped me in my face:
"Who the hell do you think you are, you bloody slave?!? he roared.
"How dare you waste our time by trying to resist what will happen anyway? Do you really think that we would let you go? No, boy, you will stay and you will learn to obey! You will now do everything that's told to you. And you will do that FROM NOW ON. As a slave you have no free will anymore, you're just a working animal to keep the galley machinery moving. I will report your unprecedented stubborn behavior to our professional slavedrivers on board, G-46, so that your new overseer will whip all this inborn laziness and all that impertinence out of you."
I was shocked by his words and by the mental picture of the terrible future that would be mine and for which there was no longer any escape. So, filled with horror, I decided to resist no longer.
"So put on that loin-cloth now im-me-di-a-te-ly, slave!"
With trembling hands I bent forward and took the nasty piece of raw cotton that was on the floor. When I had it in my hands, I looked to Mohamed with a questioning look.
Mohamed, in an unexpected softer tone, said: "You don't know how to put it on, G-46? You've no experience with wearing a loin cloth as a slave until now?"
To me this seemed a rather strange question as, not being a slave, of course I never had worn a loin cloth before. So I said, still really trembling: "No-o."
Wham! Mohamed slapped me again in my face. "It is: Sir, no, Sir! You understand, slave? You will have to address - if you address them at all, which you had better do very very seldom, because a slave is only allowed to speak when asked - all free men as Sir! And on the galley itself you'd better address your overseer as Whipmaster, to avoid getting a stroke with the lash, which will be much more painful than my hand was now. Understood??
"Sir, yes, Sir", I stammered, deadly afraid.
"Well, at last you start to learn, slave G-46. And you'd better do so."
To Ahmed: "Wrap the loin cloth around the waist of the new slave. After that he will know how to do it himself in the future."
Ahmed took the long piece of cotton out of my hands - it indeed was a very long piece - and from behind quickly wrapped it around my body. In front he made a big knot in the loin cloth, which resulted in hanging both broad ends of it in a loose way downward, protecting my genitals and hiding them from view. But I still felt practically nude - perhaps even more so as I realized that this was the only garment I would receive, and the rest of my body - and especially my back - would stay uncovered and thus unprotected for the many whiplashes to come from the slavedrivers on the galley.
Now, thanks to the loin cloth making me dressed as a slave, it was time for the heavy irons, still waiting on the floor, to become riveted on.
"Pick up your chains, slave G-46," ordered Mohamed.
I hesitated. The thought that I had to wear them was so terrifying me that I couldn't bring myself to pick them up.
"Pick up your chains," Mohamed now said with a louder voice not accepting any contradiction.
"Pick up your chains." Mohamed now really was shouting at me again.
"I won't accept further delay anymore, slave!"
Thereupon he kicked me with his boots against my naked calf.
"Ahhh!!!"
I cried for pain and shrank downward - which brought my face already nearer to the chains. A second kick, against my right leg, and I lost my balance and fell to the floor.
"Stand up immediately, and pick up the chains immediately."
Full of hatred I obeyed and grabbed at the irons. I was totally frightened when I lifted them up. My God, they were really heavy, indeed weighing at least 20 pounds in all. And this I will have to wear when toiling at the oars??? To bear their weight would cost me as much energy as rowing that damned galley of theirs! I had some problems getting the whole set into my hands so that it wouldn't fall partly downward and the hard iron of the shackles perhaps would hit my naked legs in a very painful way.
When I lifted them up and tried to get a good grip on them, the chains that connected the shackles made a terrifying rattling noise. Was that to be my future? Always the sound of clanking chains on my body, with every movement I would make?
As soon as I had the whole heap of iron safely in my hands, Mohamed just said: "Follow me now, slave 46."
He walked to the other door, the one through which the third guy with the sack containing my loin cloth and chains had entered the room. I followed full of dreadful fear, bearing my heavy compulsory load. Directly behind me came Ahmed with the third man, thus making it impossible for me to try to escape again. The door opened into a rather dark corridor with a stone-hard concrete floor, which did feel really cold underneath my naked feet. I shivered - and not only for that reason.
That of course was also because of my unwelcome baggage, on which I could take a better look now. I realized that the rather bulky oval shackles, not less than 3 inches wide and an inch thick, were soon to encircle my limbs. I just wondered that there were only three of them. Were they meant for both my wrists and only one ankle, or the reverse? And what about my fourth limb? Or did they have some unknown but very horrible destination in mind for that? Also I couldn't make sense of the two connecting chains that consisted of very big links, how would the whole be arranged on my body? But I would soon know.
I hadn't much time to think it all over anyway, because after perhaps twenty paces we reached another door. Mohamed needed some force to open it because it was rather heavy and strong, surely thick enough to isolate it from the outside world and to keep all noise inside. After some extra pushing, the door opened wide.
Then we moved into the next room.