Enslavement - Enterprise Lost

Joseph was able to determine he was somewhere west of North Africa, just miles from the Strait of Gibraltar and not too far from Spain. The vendors he dealt with often discussed their travels along this strait. Joseph was careful not to ask too many questions as these vendors were loyal to Omar. He did not want to return to the rock piles where you were paid in food if you engaged in the physical but deadly games. Joseph flashed back to when he first arrived.

~~~

Much of this early experience for Joseph was a flurry of being pushed and shoved from one place to another. None of this was good. This fresh-faced American was cannon fodder for the locals. He was poured onto the ground out of the truck he was crammed into after he was picked up from the airport. The ride over was through a dry and sandy back road giving him a mouth filled with dust. There were several others with him, all wondering how they got here. Joseph remembered his hands had been tied, and the ropes were cut as soon as he was in a jail cell. He hadn’t yet acclimated to this captive environment before he was insulted by one of the locals who was also abiding in an adjacent cell. “You! American dog!” declared a rather large man whose clothes barely fit him. He continued, “Who said you could stand in my spot?”. Joseph didn’t know whom this man was referring to. Then he realized he was the only American in this group. Joseph began to move to the side, apologizing. This individual would have none of it. “You will begin to learn that all the spots in this prison are mine. Everywhere you stand will be offensive to me. You Americans think you can barge into any country and take over. You think you can just change the way we operate with your democratic values. Well, we don’t want you here. But since you’ve no place to go, why don’t we start with your first lesson in international relations.”

Joseph could hear laughter from various corners of the prison, both above and below him as well as from the sides. Fear immediately struck him. But the pain was so real. Then Joseph realized it wasn’t fear, it was the blow he had received to his midsection that caused him to double over. It happened so fast. This was the physical exchange that comes with the territory of being imprisoned in this part of the country. Dominance must be established over new comers. Joseph fell to his knees gasping for breath, wondering how long he would have to endure punishment. The hazing continued longer than he would’ve expected. Although Joseph was physically fit, there was only so much the body could take. Joseph recognized this type of hazing as he had been on the receiving end of it from his brothers. They always seemed to find a reason to exact their vengeance upon him.

Joseph’s shoes and socks had been taken from him while being indoctrinated into this chaotic culture. He could feel the dust and gravel beneath his feet. He’d had enough. He’d been hit on the head, kidnapped, drugged, and flown across the world to a place he didn’t know nor wanted to be. He felt like he had been dropped into a hole from which there seemed to be no return. If he were going to survive this, he would have to stand his ground. When the rather large man turned his attention back to Joseph, to his surprise, he would see Joseph standing before him as if was ice in his veins. Joseph would not back down. The more the assailant moved forward, the more Joseph stood his ground. New adulation was being poured on to Joseph with the chants, “A-muri-can!”, “A-muri-can!”. Joseph could feel himself rising to this untoward occasion, understanding that to get respect in a place like this, all one could do was stand his ground. He knew this was what he’d have to do to survive. He then resolved to do whatever it took to make it through this place as hope drove him to look for a way out and he fought back. The rather large man did not expect Joseph to strike with precision. The first blow landed quickly, daizing the rather large man. Joseph was then saved by the guards as they threatened stricter punishment if these skirmishes didn’t end. Joseph was temporarily releaved, although he knew this wasn’t over.

Daily he’d have to endure hazing from a variety of assailants who seemed bent on his demise. Joseph would continue to show a resolve not to bend or bow, to give in or fold, to lament or give up. This was not like skirmishes with his brothers who had to hold back, or they would get into trouble with Jacob. This was like some deranged reality TV show he kept wondering how he could get out of. Everyone struggled over scraps. Then, Joseph decided he wasn’t going to struggle anymore. If someone wanted his scraps, they could just have them. This was met with suspicion from those who were from around these parts. For months Joseph gave his food to whomever he had to face, hoping his assailants would lose interest in continuing the hazing. The locals took what Joseph was doing for weakness. Joseph didn’t only give his opponent his food. But during the day when work was most difficult, if he saw one whose load was heavier, Joseph would help them carry it. Joseph was incredibly kind to the old men in this prison system and learned enough of the language to call them father, respectfully.

One day the rather large man walked up to Joseph and said in his usually brutish tone, “Why do you help these old men? They are worthless and helpless. You should not be spending your time with them.”

“They are valuable. Their experience alone makes them valuable. How do you think they have survived this long? You would do well to treat them like a father.”, Joseph said.

The large man presented Joseph with a half-smile and introduced himself. “My name is Chopin. It’s pronounced ‘Show-pan.’ I am from Saudi Arabia. You have changed my mind about you. You will no longer be hazed. It is part of the process of separating the strong from the weak.” Joseph was surprised by this gesture of humanity.

Chopin continued, “We have watched you make things better here. We have secretly adopted your way of doing things. We had grown tired of pleasing the guards who pitted us against each other for sport and money. We wanted a better way but did not know how to accomplish that. You have shown us a better way. I will make sure we follow your process. We do not know your name. But because we see that you draw force from helping others, I shall call you Meshach.” Again, Joseph was surprised but welcomed a friend and fierce competitor. It never occurred to Joseph that he never told them his name. He had come to understand enough of their language to know that the name Meshach means “that draws with force.” Joseph appreciated the moniker he had been given and would allow himself to be known by it.