Snowmobile Clothing & Helmets

Chained Warrior

What is this article of clothing called?

I've seen especially seen it on like Barbarians and things of Medieval Mythology where its like a leather sash or something across the warrior's stomach with chains or other metal woven into it. What is this called?

***Might it be similar to what the romans wore called a 'Balteus' ?

Iron Chain Warrior deck

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The Ghost In Chains

A few years back beyond the beginning of the great depression my shrewd uncle decided to invest in real estate and it was a good thing too if! 'If' was the word that would be asked? 'If' the said property would not contain a haunting ghost in chains that scared the blue funk out of prospective clients interested in renting rooms.

My uncle went by the name of Samuel Lewis; kin and good fellows called him Sam. He was mite of a fellow with a roly-poly stance. He always had a smile that already wrinkled his already creased cherubic face. He was a bald as a proverbial cucumber but a large fedora that was constantly worn covered this sight. Despite his innocent appearance my elder uncle, till the day he was called up yonder, was a sharp business chap who could squeeze a dollar till it hollered.

Uncle Samuel made his home in a city along the mighty Atlantic. He lived together in a fine house in a fine section of that city with his wife Hetty, a timid little mouse of a woman who lived under his shadow. Some say that he and his good woman birthed a passel of young uns' but my uncle was known for his sharp business acumen and not of his personal life.

There was a sound empty four storied building near the wharves that was offered for sale a very low price as folks near about claimed it was somewhat haunted at certain nights. Well my uncle poo pooed the verbosity and put his mark on the bill of purchase. Afterwards during the daylight hours workman hammered and sawed, mixed cement, laid wires and turned the fine building into apartment cubicles with a communal bathroom on each floor.

Cheap rental apartments were needed at that time as new immigrants from the lands of the oppressed and of want were unloaded from steerage and were landed ignorantly in the land of the free and opportunity. Many of these good souls may their way to the rental of Sam Lewis and they put their thumb on the agreement to pay a rather absurd sum for two rooms and a kitchen.

Before long the building was decked with wet grey laundry drying in the smoky sun hidden by the soot of the ships at harbor. The junk-filled yard was filled with noisy brats of all ages in their various games and the rare plant struggled for life amidst the dust and dirt. Good cheer was expressed by the housewives standing firm and resolute as they called epithets to their neighbors for some reason or other. Saturday nights was also of cheer as the gentle husbands staggered home from the night of revelry at the local tavern, except for a man of the faith who kept the Sabbath.

Aromas dominated the building and smells ranged from corned beef and cabbage, cooked pasta mixed with home made red vino, boiled meat and potatoes, and for the family of the faith it was the aroma of boiled chicken on the Friday nights. But, the smell of money was a good scent in the hands of my Uncle Samuel as the tenants were quite prompt in paying their monthly due; those with out the needed cash were readily booted out as my goodly uncle had friendship with a few of the husky stevedores along the wharves.

Then the ghostly haunting began. Not suddenly on an average night but on the full of the moon seen through the smoky air. The good tenants that stayed up till the chime of twelve heard moans and clanking of chains. Those with a bit of curiosity peered out to investigate the noises, which disturbed their only peaceful hours.  Then, to their horror, they saw the ghostly specter wafting through the empty corridors of the building.

At first they put the sight to either the drink of spirits or the need for spectacles, but as the ghost neared they either gave the pledge or promised to see the eye doctor. When they learned it wasn't drink or poor eyesight they trembled frozenly in their stance. Those who dared to open their eyes saw a tall muscular Afro whose dark skin glistened in the moonlit hallway. His clothes were little more than rags, barely enough for decency. From his muscular arms and leg hung heavy rusty chains. The youthful phantom moaned in the intonation of a rhythm of the Dark Continent and shook his chains in tune with his chant. The ghost's coal black eyes sparkled and on his broad features were signs of agony. The sight was terrifying to those who dared to look and they shivered in fright.

As you might imagine, when the rumor of the ghost spread through the tenement many of the goodly people took to measures to rid the building of the ghost in chains. Talismans were hung on the entrance doors to the rooms, some with the added strength of garlic; incantation were read, "from evil eye, from spirit, from demon, from shadow-spirit, and from all evil tormentors; and the family of the faith read from the Psalms, "One who prays to Most High demons will depart". Still on the full of the moon at the chime of twelve the ghostly Afro spirit roamed through the building moaning a chant and rattling his chains.

Despite the recitation of the beads or the belief in powerful amulets not many of the tenants wanted to stay in rented rooms in that building. Within time horse and buggies would be filled with sticks of furniture and members of a family as the wagon moved to the charity of family and kin. Following renters took one look at the dark phantom in chains and without hesitation it would send them packing. Others, when they heard the story of the haunting, would not be interested in placing their thumbprint on the deal. In the course of time the building stood empty, which made Samuel Lewis mighty unhappy at the sight of missing cash.

Well, My Uncle Samuel was not easily frightened by that so-called phantom, especially when he was peeved at the spirit's audacity in haunting renters away from his tenement. At the first opportunity he adjusted his fedora and hopped to the city officials for a complaint.  The good office-holders only shrugged their shoulders with a bit of a chuckle, as they didn't have the answers to this ghostly haunting.  One of those boyos suggested a jaunt to the city library and have a look see at the archives of city's history.

This advice my good uncle accepted and he moseyed to the public building with the book collection. There he searched and researched, turned pages and jotted notes. Then lo and behold amongst the manuscripts he discovered that his property rested on a former slave-trading pit; an infamous place where Africans torn from their soil and in chains would be bartered or sold to the highest bidder. Tears and blood stained the very ground.

My Uncle Samuel, with that information at hand, decided that on the next full moon to encounter the ghost in chains and have man to man confab with it. True to his resolve and with a good dosage of corn mash the man waited on the stairs till he heard the chime of twelve on his ornate dollar watch. Then the sound of rattling chains and chanting moans filled the corridors of the building.

As the ghost neared where he sat on the staircase my uncle hailed him. The Afro in chains was a bit startled by this greeting, but being a polite soul answered the call, "I see you white man."

"My name is Samuel Lewis, call me Sam. I have come to have a confab with you, so set yourself down and we will parlay."

Well, the phantom with the mark of slavery obeyed and set himself down on his haunches near my uncle. With effort he allowed his chained arms to encircle his legs bent on the knees. Then with riveted attention he awaited the words of my uncle.

My goodly uncle being respectful to all men doffed his fedora before he uttered one word.

"Now my good man, what be your name?" 

The dark phantom, after a bit of a pause and a rattle to his chains moaned his reply in the guttural of his tongue, "I see you Samuel Lewis. I greet you brave man. My name is Somabula the second son of Lobengula, the great Zulu king of Great Zimbabwe. His rule lorded over the Matable (Zulu) nation from the Zambezi in the north to the Orange River in the southern Africa. The land was beautiful and bountiful with sweet golden grasslands for our herds of cattle. 

He described the plumed warriors with colored long war shields and 'assegai', the feared beaten iron bladed spears held high as they paraded before their king. How bare-breasted maidens anointed with gleaming red clay and bedecked with wild flowers danced at the festivals.

The phantom's voice was bitter as he pronounced the next chapter of his tribe's history. Within time a white devil came as the Iduna, representative of the great queen across the seas. Treaties were written and broken and the so-called white brothers stole a good part of our cattle herds, and ate up all our gold and diamond mines.  Then the white devil the 'Lodzi' sent in hard fighting men and with their guns in hands they stole the sacred stone falcons from Great Zimbabwe and in slaughter took away our lands. Many of the sons and daughters of the shattered nation were led in chains to slavery."

Well my uncle was mighty hurt and even ashamed at the words and he was unable to express his remorse. He looked at the specter in chains straight in the eyes, which indicated readiness to offer redress.

"I want to read to you the 'Proclamation of Emancipation' of that righteous president Abraham Lincoln which in January 1, 1863 gave slaves their freedom," Sam addressed him solemnly.

My Uncle Samuel pulled out a sheaf of paper from his inner coat pocket. "Listen to my words and you will understand."

Samuel adjusted his specs and began his recitation and the Afro in chains was ready to hear the words:

"The 13th amendment to the Constitution decreed that, 'neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.'"

My Uncle Samuel paused in his speechification, wiped the fog off his specs and faced the phantom. "Well, my friend that was the greatest event of the 19th century."

The Afro ghost was joyful when he heard the words. He jumped to his feet and the rusty chains on his muscular arms and legs shattered and fell to the ground. The phantom fisted his hand and raised his arm high. "Bayete, bayete President Abraham Lincoln," he cried aloud. Then with a jubilant cry of "Uruhu" to the white of his smile, he disappeared.

Immigrants were still coming from steerage and within time my uncle's tenement was filled with happy sounds of housewives calling epithets to one another. Kiddies shouted in their play amidst the struggling plants or weeds in the junk-filled yard. Aromas, on different days, filled the hallways; boiled chicken, corn beef and cabbage, cooked pasta mixed with corn pone and grits. And my Uncle Samuel Lewis again smelled the sweet scent of money in his tightfisted paws.

* Bayete - Zulu salute to a great king.

** Uruhu - Freedom.

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