Man With No Meaning

Chapter 1: Gone With the Destiny

“Loss of heritage means loss of meaning.”

            The Swanson plantation, now the Sulieman estate, is unofficially a place where freed runaway slaves and Natives from surrounding areas commune with one another. The once proud estate of the Swanson family is now a multiethnic community. Jimsville, the nearest town over, has been trying to petition the governor to remove the colored people from the mansion. The governor has a long list of other things to attend to. The Swanson estate of lost slaves and Indians is on the bottom of the list not because of his sense of justice but because he is trying to figure out how to manage the coming war on American soil.

            After the governor decides to side with the confederacy, a secretary who is related to some of the people in Jimsville will mention the Swanson estate. He knows he must act out two lines of reasoning. He must move to put the ’other people’ back in their place and destroy what could be used as a beachhead for the north. Within a week, the Mississippi National Guard is brought forward. Then, on March 10th, 1861, they will move towards Jimsville.

            . On the morning of March 15th, a unit of one-hundred-fifty soldiers will go to the plantation where Colonel Slaton Beauregard will present his declaration. An entire cavalry unit and supporters from Jimsville behind him.

            The force of civilians and regulars totaling almost three hundred people approach the estate gate.

The tall and strong Paul greets them. Paul, who escaped just months ago, looks at the crowd steeped in fear. His once large smile turns into a dreadful panic.  The Colonel, knowing the true agenda, tries to sweet talk the large, uneducated man who escaped from three counties over. Yet Paul runs back to the plantation to warn the community. The colonel nods when he runs off. The people from the community eventually move the gate out of the way for everyone to walk through.

            Paul runs to Malik Sulieman II, who is in the colonial mansion. Malik finishes his last prophetic writing. Paul catches his breath and tells Malik,

“Big man..they is comin.”

Malik looks at Paul and asks,

“Who?”

Paul leans up and says,

“All the folk from the town and regs.”

“Regs?”

He nods emphatically and says,

“Regs, army…men on horses.”

Malik rubs his temples, sighs, then says,

“I guess the time has come.”

Malik wraps up his writings and puts them in a safe place—leaving the study. By the time he steps out of the mansion, he is greeted by the mixed population and the white population, eyeing each other down.

 The grey-haired, decorated military man in his house moves into the open space in front of the mansion. He asks,

            “Which one of you niggas or redskins is in charge?”

            Malik, walking down the steps, says,

“Dat be me.”

Then walks over. The colonel gets off his horse and stands in front of the crowd, intent on an apocalypse. He walks over to Malik, carrying a document. He says,

            “Well now…you’re the nigga causing all the trouble in the county and the state…”

            Malik, having been in America long enough to pick up an accent of his own, repeats,

            “Dat be me.”

            “Well, we have a dilemma here…the fine Swanson family, who has rightful ownership of the land, is requesting a peaceful handover of their property and belongings. Also, owners from this county to three counties request a proper return on their investments.”

            “That’s a rather polite way to put it, colonel, but it's my understanding the Choctaw owns this land and has been given back, so the rightful owners of the land have possession of it. I do recall Dillion Swanson Sr. killed Chief Red Claw in his sleep for it, so justice has already been served. The Swanson family is free to gather personal belongings and go elsewhere.”

            The dictation surprises the colonel. He squints his eyes in agitation, but he reads the paper and says,

            “By the authority of Governor John Pettus. The usurpers and runaway slaves are to return the property and land to the remaining Swanson family members. The slaves are to be returned to their owners, and Malik Sulieman, along with Kathy Sulieman, are to be tried by local magistrates. If they come peacefully, they will be given a fair and just punishment and then returned to the care of the Swanson Estate. Suppose they do not agree to these terms. In that case, The National Guard, along with the help of upright and justice-seeking citizens, may aid in executing my orders as the governor of the state of Mississippi.”

            Seeing the bloodthirsty eyes of the crowd behind the colonel, Malik tries to think of a witty response but can feel the time for sarcastic words is up. He can see that the paper is a polite affirmation for the people to do unpolite things. Malik looks around. He looks back at the mansion and the crowd of people who have found hope and faith in him. The soldier in him wants to fight till his last breath. The sword by his side calls him to one last fight, but his heart tells him to bide time.

He changes from desiring one last stand to understanding that the end has come. He swallows his pride and grins about the palace he grew up in thousands of miles away in a land far from his current predicament. He thinks about the battles he fought and how he survived them. Yet he looks at the hateful crowd in front of him and knows they are far fiercer than any Greek independent freedom fighter.

He looks around at the progress, knowing it is before its time. He looks around as though the moment was just that, a moment. He turns to look at his children and his wife and nods. Then he turns back to the colonel and, with a switch in tone,

            “You have us. Outmanned and outlawed. I reckon you give us one more night in our undeserved freedom. Unless you want to have an Indian attack as well, I think it be best if you give us the night to tell the others we have given it back in peace. Else, you will have to stay here longer than you want, Colonel, and fight more Indians than you want.”

            The bloodthirsty crowd looks on, surprised as the colonel closes the decree and thinks about what he is told to be one of the crafty ones.

            “I see,”

He strokes his large mustache and nods, convinced that Indians are not what he came down for.

“I see you’re a crafty nigga…you had a good run. The time is at an end, but I reckon you should have one more day to peacefully hand over the property with the least amount of agitation.”

            The surrounding crowd in the community looks on, wondering how their leader just gave up without a fight. Malik leans over the colonel and says,

            “Sir, I also just want some more night with my undeserved freedom.”

            The colonel, knowing the reality of the man he is across, nods with a masculine understanding and says,

            “Aright now…We’ll see y’all tomorrow, enjoy the night.”

When the colonel turns his horse, he turns back around and says,

“Malik, don’t play me for a fool now…I do have canons at my disposal.”

            Malik bows in an unfamiliar, submissive manner. The colonel looks back at the crowd, waiting to jump on the colored people they never viewed as equal. He herds them out. The colonel, not a local and somewhat detached from the situation, uses the last bit of his rank to move everyone back. Yet, when most of the crowd moves away, someone remains, Captain Chase Remington. He smokes the last bit of his cigarette, then throws it on the ground. He looks around with a displeased disposition. The hope of dismantling the newly acquired safe space for colored people must wait another day.

            Captain Remington, a six-foot-three well-muscled man, looks around at the plantation, gazing at the remaining Swanson family line. Dillion Swanson III and Mary Swanson, an elderly couple with a granddaughter, Susan Swanson, are all that remains of the slave revolt at the Plantation. Captain Remington wonders if his looks are good enough to grant him this family and place as a retirement package. He is the last to look around at the corroding calm moment of the estate. The colonel must call him specifically for him to turn his horse around to exit the estate. He follows orders after he spits on the ground.

            When the crowd is missing their pounds of flesh leaves, some of the leaders of the community look at Malik in confusion. Malik gathers the elders and leaders and says,

            “Our time has run out. We are going to face a larger force in some way or another. The army has come. Gather everyone at the center. I will speak to them.”

            In a matter of minutes, the land in front of the mansion is filled with all types of brown people from the content and others. Malik tells everyone,

            “The time has come we all knew would. They sent the army and had the townspeople with them. Send your wives and kids away. They come with ravenous thirst. Those who wish to fight, we have trained for this. Those who wish to leave you will not be judged, as this will not be a fair fight, and our bodies will not be treated with any dignity or respect. Take time to prepare and say goodbye to your loved ones.”

            Groans of fear are heard and felt. The seed of freedom and dignity that sprouted up is about to be trampled on. The crowd wants to yell; they want to protest. They stand still in disbelief. Most escaping life they vowed never to go back to. Many, who, for the first time in their bloodline, knew what it was like to feel like a human, are frozen in despair, knowing going back to being ground like dust is a reality check they didn’t want.

Malik steps down from the makeshift platform, leaving the crowd confused, and goes to his family. Kathy says,

            “Why aren’t we going to stand our ground? Why can’t we win? We have done it before.”

            “Kathy, seventy-five of us can fight, and sixty are trained to fight. A few hundred people came here. Over a hundred were trained. We had a good run.”

            “But Malik…this is our home.”

            Tears begin to settle as she knows he is right but realizes the dream is over.

Malik looks at his wife and sighs. He wants to comfort her like the first time they met. He wants to say something to solve it all, but words don’t produce more bodies to protect what they have built. The years since he led a local slave revolt were a glimmer of hope. Kathy, who barely could read, now dressed in a full mind, weeps over the loss of the possibility it could last longer than a moment. The safe place to lay her head is no longer a long-term plan. Malik says,

            “No… it's not… it's their spoils.”

The following day, Malik wakes to prepare his children, Malik III and Fatima. The toddler girl and adolescent boy look at their parents, waiting for the emotions to be put into words they can understand. Malik II says,

            “Come with me, son.”

            The boy walks with his father to the horse stable. Malik II begins to pack a horse with supplies. After the horse is packed up, he pulls out a gun. The gun is a work of art crafted after Malik II took the plantation. The heritage he gives to his son is the pistol crafted with his family crest, a foreign symbol to the others. He tells his boy,

            “I told you this gun is a responsibility.”

            The boy nods, and the father hands the son a weapon no boy should hold before his tenth birthday. The weapon is a six-shooter with artistic flare and Arabian strokes. Malik says,

            “Protect your sister at all costs. You are the future…not just of the name but of prophecy. Son, your mother…and I… will see you in the far… future.”

            The boy tries to absorb his father’s emotions because his father never cries and is now choking on his words. Malik III asks,

            “Why can’t you and mom come with us?”

            “Son, we would endanger you if we did that.”

            Malik III adds extra blankets to the supply packs.

            “Son, this Alhassen is the fastest horse we have and the youngest. You and your sister will travel fast on him.”

            Malik III hugs his dad and says,

            “I don’t want to leave home.”

            Malik II closes his eyes, giving his son one last hug, and allows the tears to fall out but then looks into his son’s eyes and says,

            “I know this moment will be a distant memory someday, but know I love you. Your mother loves you. We have poured our love into you and your sister. It’s just sad the world only wants certain people to live with that love.”

            Malik II gives his son a fold with money and a document solidifying them as freed slaves, even though the document was forcibly signed at gunpoint.

            “Don’t lose this boy…it might save you long enough.”

            Malik III begins to cry, but he puts him on Alhassen and guides him out of the stable. Kathy finishes her moment with Fatima. The kid duo is ready to leave. Kathy walks to her son with tear-soaked eyes and kisses him on his forehead. Malik does the same for his daughter. Malik II guides the horse to a hidden path. The two parents and two kids have one last moment.

When the moment lingers too long, destiny calls. They can hear the townspeople and the army return to the plantation. Malik II releases first looks at the family he built and wonders if his line is destined to have the father leave his son earlier than expected. He tells Malik III,

“Live…and fight like hell to never give life.”

Malik III nods and holds his little sister. His father walks back to the front of the plantation, talking to the people who remained from the day before—eighty people ready to fight. Malik III watches his father leave him, his sister, and the horse. Malik II cannot look back, the son of a prophet, the father of a girl and boy who needs long enough to escape.

Malik II begins to command the community's last stand in secrecy. He talks to different people in hiding spaces. All the ammo is covered up, and the remaining non-gun weapons are given to everyone without a gun. Kathy runs to her kids one last time and blesses them. She sheds her last motherly tear, knowing her kid's life lives on faith. When she walks back to the front of the plantation with Malik II, she locks her final softness away and is ready to fight to give her kids time to escape. She asks,

“Why not have them leave now?”

“We need the attention on us.”

Malik II prepares the community by giving all the signals to people. When they are in position, He finally answers Colonel Beauregard's call. The frontier-experienced man gets off his horse, walks to Malik, and asks,

“Are you ready to comply?”

Malik II takes a deep breath and looks around,

“If you ever thought I would hand my existence freely to you or your kind, you are sadly mistaken.”

The colonel semi-expecting the betrayal. Says,

“Sad I was going allow the kids to be house niggas.”

“None of our kids will be under your yoke.”

Malik II quickly pulls out his Arabian sword and stabs the colonel, and while staring into the evaporating life of the colonel, he says,

“Your death will be celebrated in due time, while my stand here will be a beacon of hope.”

The colonel looks at him confused as Malik says it in Arabic, then he leans away and says it again in English. A gunshot goes off, and the bullet hits the skull of a newly deemed Confederate cavalryman, forcing him to fall over. The death of the colonel and the cavalryman releases the soldier's rage, then the townspeople follow. The undisciplined rage is to the estate inhabitants' benefit as they have taken their defense positions. Malik III, hearing the gunshot, slowly moves Alhassen down the path so as not to draw attention to their escape. When there is a cannon shot, the human cries of pain, and a firefight follows. Malik moves Alhassen quickly, leaving the premises of the only home he and his sister know.

The Mississippi guard, now commanded by Captain Remington, pursues and ransacks everything. Townspeople release their pent-up rage in any way possible. Ravaging, raping, and pillaging the people who just fought to exist with dignity. In the middle of the scrum of chaos, a sergeant tells Remington,

“All the kids and most the women are gone.”

Remington thinks for a moment and says,

“Git me about twenty men on horses.”

“Yes, sir.”

After shooting five people, the same sergeant comes with fifteen. Remington says,

“That’ll do.”

He jumps on his horse and peals off. Malik II sees Captain Remington begin to break out of the kill zone the community created and has men on horses following him. Malik II tells Kathy,

“These years have been great; I have loved you deep and wide. In these years, we have touched hearts deeper than most could ever dream of. I’ll see you in heaven.”

She smiles softly. Intuition guides her to shoot a man coming too close to their foxhole. She takes a few deep breathes after killing the man, then looks deep into the men on the horse and knows her husband must go. She returns with a simple kiss and says,

“I will always love you. You gave me a chance at something I never dreamed of.”

Malik grabs his family’s blade and gets on the horse, Valhassen. He pursues the cavalry, seeking out the kids and women. Malik II eventually catches up and kills a few, but then he sees Captain Remington in hot pursuit of his kids; maddening rage in his eyes is focused on the brother and sister. The brother and sister race west while Captain Remington pushes his steed to catch up.

Captain Remington has his cavalry sword fully drawn, closing the distance between him and the innocent. He takes an angle. Malik III begins to notice the pursuit of Remington, but by the time he picks up speed, the captain is on a collision course with them. Yet, when he is close, Malik III directs Alhassen in a sharp turn. Remington misses but still chases. Malik III tries to build up speed. Remington, more experienced on horseback, redirects quickly and pursues again. Malik II can hear a voice from afar. It’s his dad.

Captain Remington catches up, swipes at the siblings, and misses again, not because of accuracy but because Malik II makes sharp turns. Malik III, still new to guiding the horse, tries to slow down to allow his father to catch up. He turns and runs back to his father. The captain has to change directions. Malik III catches up with his father. He tells his son to get behind him, and Remington pulls out a pistol and begins to shoot at them. Malik pulls out a pistol as well. The two fire at each other. They hit and draw blood, but that doesn’t stop Remington from going headlong into the family. He pulls out his sword when they are close, as does Malik II. The kids watch their father fight for their existence. With a long, straight sword, the captain faces off against a curved Arabian sword.

Captain Remington doesn’t take a moment to recognize its uniqueness. The two square off. Yet the battle is short. Remington is younger and ready for his nation’s civil moves quicker than the man who has already been through the Greek War of Independence. The sword dance ends with Malik stabbed by Captain Remington. When the father accepts his fate, he looks at Fatima and tells her to,

            “Run.”

            Fatima runs to Alhassen. Malik II holds on to the sword, piercing his own body to hold Remington up. Still, as life leaves his body, Remmington retrieves his sword and says,

            “Before the day is over. I will kill your lineage and see if your wife is white on her insides.”

            Remington pulls out another pistol and points the gun at Malik II’s head, and a gunshot goes off. Remington looks at the head, which should have a hole in it. Malik II opens his eyes. They both look at the abdomen of Remington and see the damage of the gunshot; Remington turns to see the prey-turned-predator, and Malik III fires another shot, feeling the power a nine-year-old dreams about but should never experience. Remington falls to the ground. He holds his stomach in pain. The siblings go to their father. Life, a dissipating commodity in the open field, unites the siblings and father one last time. Malik senior lays on the ground, still dying from the sword wound, says to his children,

            “Run…be free…go west…live…”

            He holds their hands one last time and in Arabic, says,

            “Take my horse…use it.”

            The last humidity of his spirit evaporates. They cry. Yet when they hear the horses of the other regulars, they quickly leave.