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My Year as a Damane When I first came here, many months ago, I told myself that I would keep my past to myself. I didn’t think anyone else needed to know what I’d gone through or what I’d experienced. I guess it was naivety, I don’t really know, maybe more that I didn’t want to recall that year or have people pity me for it. Since I’ve been here, living in the Tower, I realize that everyone has a story, everyone has a tragedy. And mine, perhaps, may be able to help others learn about something new. There may be books of information about the Seanchan culture, but the more real life stories that are recorded and available to others to study, the more we will understand the world we live in. *** As is already recorded elsewhere, I was raised to be an Ebou Dari woman, strong and confident in my abilities and superiority in whatever situation. My family was never wealthy, and at times considered among the very poor. My father and mother worked together, my mom making pies that my father sold on the streets. My two sisters, brother, and I helped as much as we could, and the only real education we received was what we learned from the streets. It was a normal day as a traveled from my father’s stand back home to my mother. The Seanchan had occupied Ebou Dar for four months at that time, and I had become accustomed to their presence and simply tried to stay out of their way. But this afternoon the heavy crowds pushed me in the direction of one of the feared women who held other women like pets on silver leashes. Not yet knowing my fate, I tried to pass them. But suddenly, I could no longer move. My legs were frozen in place, I could only swirl my head around to search wildly for the reason of my entrapment. The two women were looking straight at me, one curiously and the other blankly and without any emotion. I was told to walk and an invisible rope taunted me to try otherwise. In complete shock, I followed until we reached the palace. I was soon put in a cell as small as a large closet, and a silver collar was latched onto my neck and the other end was hung on a pole. They didn’t appear to lock the door as they left, which puzzled me greatly. As soon as my capturer left, I reached to remove the a’dam, and I instantly realized that I could not even touch it. This time I could feel no boundary, but I was simply unable to compel my hand to move forward. I could move any other way I wanted, but neither with any intention to grasp the other end of the silver collar, nor to touch the thing around my neck. ***** I soon learned, contrary to my earlier conclusions, that the life of a damane is not so much that of a prisoner but of a pet that must be trained. There are treats and there are punishments based on one’s behavior and performance. I would like to say that I stayed strong throughout my one year there, but this was not always the case. I am not always as strong as I claim to be. After a few days they began to teach me the Power. At the chain end of the a’dam, you do what you’re told. You can’t misunderstand, you can’t disobey. I was instructed to calm my mind, and to embrace the Power. The same feelings are associated as when one embraces freely, but on the leash it just comes. There’s no reaching out, no letting it come into you. The control lies completely in your sul’dam, how much you take in and what you do with it. (I have since learned in my studies that a sul’dam is one who, by our labels, can channel but does not have the natural spark. Though they may never channel, the ability is there, as well as the ability to control another by the use of the wretched silver leash). At first I resisted their control. Not so much resisted instructions, which I couldn’t, but I tried to stand up to them in other ways. I met their eyes until told not to, I took advantage of my height by standing straight and looking down at them. I quickly learned that the a’dam leash could be used to cause pain as well as control. Most of the time it was a quick shock for my insubordination that ran through my neck and down to my toes. Very rarely though, it was an agonizing explosion in my head that disappeared within a minute. The first thing I learned was in searching the ground for iron, which Aes Sedai call delving. I had no special talent in this, but I had an ability, and was both praised and punished equally for my performance. They also tried to teach me to make sky lights, and my failure in this area caused me many of these small punishments, and they soon gave up after realizing I was truly incapable of creating more then large dully colored sparks. Because I am not naturally strong in the Power, I was often punished for my inabilities. Though I am ashamed to admit it, within several months I had mostly become the damane pet they wanted. Usually I kept a mental sense of self, but they were slowly killing it up until my final rescue. Before my capture, I was growing to be a strong Ebou Dari woman, confident despite my low social stature. But the Seanchan are experienced in breaking a woman’s confidence, and I was not strong enough to fight them. When I was rescued, I was still surprised to see that the damanes had no desire to leave. The Seanchan have engraved into their culture the necessity that channelers be leashed, and the damanes believe they are in the only place they can be. During my time there, I often attempted conversation with the others, but they refused to even look at me. More likely they would whine to their sul’dam, causing me more punishment that I eventually gave up. After a year I was rescued, a much weaker woman in spirit and confidence. They know how to break a woman, and even after many years I still find that I have trouble bringing up the confidence I once had. |
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