[CS-FSLUG] A Dramatization: 1 Samuel 30:7-15

[Ed Hurst]

A Dramatization: 1 Samuel 30:7-15


What was that? Probably nothing. His mind drifted in and out of
consciousness. In a lucid moment he noted to himself how odd it was
that hunger and a burning thirst could heighten the senses and yet keep
you from making sense of them. The sound of the wind blowing through
the rocks and scrub reminded him of so many other sounds he had heard
during that week of raiding and plunder gathering.

The smell of burning still hung in his nostrils, even these - how many?
- three days or so since being left in the field. He had been sick
often since being hauled away from his home in Egypt ten years ago.
Born a slave, always a slave. As soon as he could do any meaningful
work, his master sold him off and he never saw his mother again. He
could still hear her voice in the evenings, when the insects raised
their songs with doves. Missing his mother was bad enough, but the lush
food of the Nile Valley was all he had known. Even slaves got melons,
leeks, and river fish. When he was bought by a tent-dwelling Amalekite,
he was forced to live on dry grains, odd tasting bird flesh or goat
when he got meat at all, and the occasional tree fruits and wild grapes
he found in season while doing his work. The grain and fruit were fine,
but anything related to animals was risky. There was always the foul
taste of goat milk and the dozen or so foods made from it.

All that seemed no good at all. He seemed somehow weaker without the
bounty of Nile gods, living out in this dusty, dry land of rocks. The
smell of goats and camels never left his nostrils. His appetite waxed
and waned with no sense of pattern. Having seen how sick animals were
abandoned to the predators, he strove to hide his bouts of queasiness
from everyone. Slaves were seldom treated any better than herd animals,
and often worse. His own master seemed particularly brutal.

When the tribal elders heard from the herdsmen that the Kerethim and
Hebrew warriors had mobilized and moved north, they wasted no time in
mounting a raid. All the more so since it offered a chance to find the
home of their worst enemy, Daviyd and his outlaw army. His small force,
gathered to him after he fled the wrath of his master, King Sha-uwl of
Yisrael, was more dangerous than any larger force from either Hebrews
or Kerethim. The slave vaguely remembered hearing of Daviyd's raids on
his master's people.

So he was ordered to pack for a raid, and prepared himself for the
worst. As it turned out, there was little need for killing, since the
soldiers were gone from all the places they planned to strike. Then he
found out what the excess of ropes and chains were for: to keep control
over the massive number of captives. The one best source of income for
Amalekites had always been capturing slaves for the market in Egypt.
With mostly women and children left behind by their men, all that
mattered was herding them quickly away, carrying their own plundered
goods for their Amalekite captors.

For the slave, it was one long nightmare. Not because of the nasty work
of herding humans like goats, and burning their homes, but it was the
assurance he would be left to feed himself on what could be scavenged
during the raids. While the Hebrews were usually pretty careful about
their food, the Kerethim were likely to eat anything. Most of the time,
he grabbed a handful of parched grain, which was abundant this time of
year. Everybody loved the nutty taste of grain roasted fresh from the
fields of harvest. But there was one long day when the raiders were
determined to hit three towns in succession before nightfall. He had
grabbed a cold leg of goat, or something like it, roasted with strange
herbs, and hurriedly ate a few bites. Almost immediately he lost it
all, as it came right back up.

That was early in the morning, and he had not eaten the rest of the
day. A quick gulp of wine from a skin gathered in the plunder served
well enough, along with water, when he could find a chance. A quick
small bite of hard bread here and there was all he could keep down.
That night, as they were dragging away the captives of that third town,
he began to feel the fever coming on. Already exhausted, he began to
shake uncontrollably and alternated between sweating and chilling. When
he dropped something for the third time in just a few moments, his
master called to him. He stood before the angry man, trembling for more
reasons than one. He had the straw boss look in his eyes, smelled his
breath, then touched the small of his back. The man's hand felt cold on
his skin. Then came the words he had feared most: he was finished. They
had no time to waste, and it had been a waste indeed to buy such a
worthless slave.

Without further ado, the straw boss shoved him to the ground and the
mass of humanity and herd animals moved away. He could not have
followed if he had tried. Nor did it matter that he knew every campsite
they would occupy each night. By the time he could recover from
sickness, he would be dead from starvation and thirst. So he lay on the
ground as night fell, shivering as the sound of massive numbers of feet
and hooves faded in the distance. If he remembered rightly, that was
three days ago. With all the plunder and captives, they would not have
gotten far, but it might as well be across the great sea.

As he lusted for that sea of water, he wondered something. Why, all of
a sudden, did he believe he was hearing that mass of feet pounding
again toward him? Was he so far gone that he had lost all sense of
direction, too? For they seemed to be coming from the direction of the
cities they had raided. Then, out of the corner of one crusted eye, he
saw them - soldiers. Hebrew soldiers. They wore too much clothing to be
Kerethim, those whose domain was along the coast. Their soldiers road
chariots and fought half naked. These men had been marching for days,
it seemed. Was he finally losing all contact with reality?

Everything faded into darkness for a time. When he returned to the
light, someone was pressing something to his lips, and he tasted - no,
/smelled/ - the water. He drank as much as the other holding him
allowed. Yes, of course, small amounts at a time. He recognized the
Hebrew tongue, and one was calling for food. Yes! Any food, please.
When the world stopped spinning, and he realized he was going to live
after all, he looked at the commander with grateful eyes. Here was a
stranger, obviously on an important mission, who had taken the time to
treat him better than his own master ever permitted.

Wait. Soldiers? This far south, when the Kerethim and Yisrael were
fighting far to the north? Then the light of realization dawned on him,
even as the sun began to fall toward the horizon: Daviyd. Sure enough,
someone called him that. Daviyd asked him who he was, and how he came
to be lying in a field far from any human habitation, and nearly dead.
After briefly recounting the story in his halting poor Hebrew, he
realized his life had just begun anew. The Hebrew god must have wanted
to spare him for some reason, so led these men here.

The one thing the man, Daviyd, wanted to know was probably the one
thing the slave wanted most to tell. Did he know where the raiders were
camping tonight, and could he guide Daviyd and his men there? For the
first time in days, the slave smiled, and felt strong enough to run the
whole way. After all, raiders with captives and herds could barely
travel in a day what a strong man could walk swiftly in an hour. He
paused only long enough to ask this Daviyd for a small favor in return.


CC'd to my blog: http://ed.asisaid.com/blog/
-- 
Ed Hurst
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Software Freedom Day, 28 August 2004
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