Verse 1 Before the ships, the work was held by kin and land, by names well known, by ties a village understands. Then ports drew near by river, coast and caravan road, and foreign buyers turned a neighbour into load. Some captives left in chains, but that was not the whole; the trade moved inland too, and altered every role. What sailed away in grief came pressing back on home – to guard, to sort, to rank, to treat a life as owned. Refrain It was not only people taken to the sea. The trade changed home, and changed what home could be. Verse 2 Where raids were feared, survival learned a bitter game; to dodge the net, some learned to cast one just the same. In catchment zones, defence began to mirror threat; the fear of capture taught the skill of casting nets. With guns and routes and middlemen that fed the coast, whole regions lived by striking first or losing most. And once slavery came, it did not come alone – it asked for guards and heirs and rules to make it grow. Refrain It was not only people taken to the sea. The trade changed home, and changed what home could be. Verse 3 So slavery spread with wealth and rule and household power; in East Africa it settled deeper hour by hour. In West Africa it joined the strength of chiefs and states; a wound became a system shaping people’s fates. That is why the damage lasted after ships were gone – less trust, less schooling too, and weaker paths to build upon. Underdevelopment was more than numbers sold; it changed how lives were linked, and what the future held. Refrain It was not only people taken to the sea. The trade changed home, and changed what home could be.
