Despite how difficult to commit suicide was, some of us still made it, whenever they got a chance to jump off the sea, they did. However, most of us died not from the difficult suicide but from diseases that was spreading among us because of the closeness between us, if one person were ill, most of as would soon become ill.
To keep us fit, so that they could make the most profit out of us, we were made to perform dances under the white’s whips, on the deck normally once a day. That was the only time we could breathe in fresh air. We women and children were luckier than the men, free from the chains, while we were on the deck but the men were still attached to their chains however the whites watched us ever so closely while we were on the deck.
Dancing on the deck used to be the time I enjoyed the most when I was on the slave ship but after mother’s death, I hate going up there, the sea had always remind me about mother’s death. The crews whip me often for I always stop dancing when the picture of mother being thrown into the sea.
Back to the smelly, filthy place below the deck after the dance every day, no whip crying to lash my back, no eyes of whites stare at me – as long as I keep quite lying on the hard, dirty floor, I no longer want to go on the deck to breath the fresh sea air after my dear, loving mother’s death. Now that mother is gone, I have only got Baako, but who knows how long she would be there with me? Day by day, my fears increase, fearing that what happen to mother would happen to dear sister. I would much rather I got tucked into the sea than mother or sister do. But sometimes, I envied the dead - alone in a foreign country as a slave working like an ox belongs to the evil whites. What is the point of life?
I was full of surprise and joy when we finally reached our destination, Caribbean about ten weeks after we were on board knowing that Baako had actually survive the inhumane Middle Passage for she had always been very weak ever since we got on the ship. I was not alone. After all, someone I know, someone from my family was with me, and we would be able to support each other whenever the one of us need any help like mother had taught us; that was what I thought.
I still did not realize, in the eyes of the whites, we are only animals. For them, our feelings, emotions, cultural and even families worth nothing. Nothing. We are but working machines, slaves whom are properties of the whites. Valuable we are, only for the money that we could be sold depending on the qualities of the goods – us slaves.
After we got off the ship, we were cleaned and polished with oil so that our skins were shiny and attractive to the buyers. Then we were displayed in the middle of a circle of white buyers, I was feeling very uneasy with eyes staring at us; I hold on to Baako’s hand tightly. But the worse was to come.
After a while, which seemed to me like years, at the sound of a beating drum, these whites who were forming a circle rushed to us, one of them grabbed me onto my arm, I held onto Baako’s hand even more firmly and she did the same but me and Baako were gabbed by two different white men to two different direction. We, two little girls whom just got off of the slave ship from a terrible, long journey from West Africa of the Middle passage were too weak to resist the two strong men’s grabs. We were separated within a second. Of course, the two men whom grabbed us never did know neither what we were doing with our hands nor what their easy, simple grabs meant for us. I am not the only one who went through this, many of us whom I know from the plantation had the same happened to them, they never see their family ever again. I was indeed very lucky, forty years after that I finally manage to meet my deer old sister but nothing would be the same after we left beautiful Africa home – the place where we belong to.
The men who separated my only remained family was my master, who my body belongs to – he could beat me, he could make me work as if I was an animal but he could never control me. Though my body belongs to him, my mind and heart belong to me; always and for ever, my memories, culture, the image of my dear families had and will be with me no matter how they treated or will treat me or how far I am from home.
I was then, like many other ‘cargos’, made to jump and they open our mouth by force to check our teeth like a horse so that they could make sure the quality of the ‘cargos’ were good enough for them to buy. I was given a European name, Sally, and no-one use my real name. That is not me, Sally is not me, I am Abeni, not Sally. I would not put up with that, they have killed my mother and now they wanted to ignore my father’s decision. Though thought my life, I had always called myself Abeni.
All that was only the beginning.
At first, I was brought as a house slave, as a maid for my master’s wife. Their house was grand and beautiful with wonderful varnish furniture but all these, I latter found out from one of my fellow slaves in the field, was built by us, black African slaves and yet, most of those who built this grand, varnish house had crossed the dreadful Middle Passage on the filthy floor below deck for weeks and lived in the small, dusty slave quarters when they arrived – when they were building the grand house and after they finish building it!
Very soon after my arrival to the big house, however, I was put to work in the sugar plantation as a punishment for not doing what they told me to do.
It was hard, it was not long at all after I saw mother being tucked into the sea by withes with my own eyes, I could not make myself to serve the whites knowing that mother could never be worshiped by her descendants and would just disappeared in our family tree.
I wanted to take revenge for my mother and kill these evils with my own hands but of course I would not dare. Whenever my mistress ordered me to do anything, I would stand there and ignored her. The first time I did that, she was very cross and looked so shocked as if never in her life had she been ignore by anyone. She snapped me onto my face so hard that I fell on the floor with pain at once.
Miss Mary did not do much after that, but I still did ignore her. The next time, I was sent to the Lashing House where a special and legally-appointed functionary would do the whipping for Miss Mary.
Masters and Mistresses of slaves would not officially do the whippings themselves for the social grades of slaves are too low for gentlemen to whip, beating slaves is to the social grade of overseers or constables (the slave-whippers are called); as for the ladies, they think they have too much sensibility to inflict complete chastisement. Lady, too sensible to inflict the whipping to me? Yet, Miss Mary merely wrote on a bit of scrap paper she grabbed at handy, telling the slave-whipper to give me fifty serve lashes. Lady? What lady? She is everything but a lady! Bad tempered, selfish, lack of manner – to us slaves anyway, but are we not human, are we not breathing the same air? Would we not bleed if we were pricked? Do we not laugh if we were tickled? Should we not die if we were poisoned? So are we not humans like the white?
I was then sent to the lashing house in the town with Miss Mary’s note in my hand which says ‘Mr Smith, will you give Negro-girl Sally 50 lashes, and charge to account of Mr. Greys.’
The lashing house was old, prison-like quarters, built of brick and limestone. The slave-whippers are well paid and more than often make a handsome living for their ugly work.
In there, I was made to pull dress down and was whipped unmercifully on my bare back; steams of blood came out of my deeply cut flesh. I held my lips tightly, bared every single one of the fifty harsh lashes in silence, telling them I could not be made suffering by them. Thinking about mother’s stories, I could see mother telling me not to give up and one day I would fight the freedom that I and every single man on earth do deserve; and that no-one should be harm by anyone. I could barely walk after that but I still made my way back to Miss Mary’s house.
The reason why Miss Mary sent me to the lashing house was really to announce her high social grading in the community. She whips us herself often when she is on a mood or when she feels like whipping us. It is hell living with her. Some of the house slaves try to avoid being beaten by pleasing the mistress of the house. This often means our act against the masters and slavery like learning how to read and write, reading works by the abolitions of slavery… were reported to the mistress and masters by our own fellow black slaves. It is traumatic know your fellow black slaves might betray you at anytime without warning. However, you can always tell that if someone had been betrayed if they start to show off their ‘beautiful’ present given by Miss Mary when it is not a special date. All that ‘beautiful’ present is an ugly handkerchief, but these traitors earn more than that – they are always the favourite ones of Miss Mary and they were whipped seldom. Still all of us had been whipped for at least once being slaves.
I can sometimes understand why they would do such a thing as betraying people whom are going through the same difficulties, after all, white or black, as humans, we are all selfish, are we not? But they don’t understand how painful is it not being able to trust anyone when facing so much pressure after a long hard day. Perhaps, it is one of the ways that our masters use to shun us from united each other and turn against them. Clever our master and mistress are, I must admit, but they are as evil as the devil.
Master John owned more than a thousand slaves, if we united together, we could easily turn against him, to kill him and his wife was easier than easy – IF we were all united together. Clever Master John would never let that to happen, it is the fears that continue slavery for more than two centuries, nearly three and who knows what the future will be like? The fears, fearing you could be betrayed by anyone at anytime; fearing you could be whipped at anytime for any reasons; fearing to be sold away from your own family… All we knew was to do our ‘duty’ given by Master John and Miss Mary so that we could keep ourselves form the horrible punishments , but, who could?
They would never have gusseted that I still ignored Miss Mary after the 50 lashes I received in the lashing house and other lashes and slaps I got from Miss Mary. They could not do much about it for I had no families for them to sell off at the time – that is what they often do as punishment, sometimes they sell the offenders themselves but they normally sell the children of the slaves who offend them away instead of the offender him/herself, in that way, they could never see nor look after their own children ever again and they could not ask their friends to look after the children either because we would not know slaves from other plantation, but normally warning would be given before they really sell the child(ren) off hoping that the offender would improve his/her behaviour, this normally work because family, if we have any is ever such a great and in fact, the best comfort for us when it is so stressing to be a slave.
My master did not want to execute their newly brought slave either, I could be sold for quite a high price since I was very healthy and would soon have the ability of child bearing – to give them more slaves; they did not want to cut my body parts off either for that would lower my value if they sell me and if they do not, I would never be able to do them as much works - that is all they cared for. So they finally decided to put me into the sugar field about three months after my arrival.
Food and housing conditions in the plantation are not as good as the big house, where the planter, our master and his family live. Many house slaves receive little present from our mistress on special occasion like Christmas; foods are much nicer in the house than here in the plantation. Physically, house slaves sleep more comfortable in the house than slaves working in the plantation. Slaves working in the plantation lives near the field in small, dusty houses call slave quarters, one tiny house often shatter up to ten slaves. We sleep on the dirty, dusty floor, although it was not as terrible as the ship we were put in after our capture. Work in the plantation is physically harder and more tiring.
However, I like working in the plantation more than in the big house. We do not have to put up with Miss Mary and Master John’s mood – they whipped when they felt like it, not for what we had done wrong, I have seen a girl been tied up and lashed with a horse whip until she was raw and bloody from her neck to her ankles, she was whipped so unmercifully that she could not walk for days – and all these for no offence but Master John’s anger for his loss of ‘procession’ when one of the slave in the field had ran away.
Master John and Miss Mary never bother to come down to watch us if we were working in the field; we are supervised by the overseer they employed. I could go to sleep after sunset when we stop working when it is not harvest time, when I was in the big house, we had to wash all the clothes, clean the floor, wash the dishes, dust the desks… after Master John and Miss Marry go to sleep and we have to heat up the house before they get up as well as serving dinner and cook the meals. We could hardly get any sleep sometimes when they have late nights. However, those are not the reasons why I like working in the plantation more than the big house. I could sleep much better now that I am in the slave quarters for I now have only little fears of being whip for doing nothing wrong and I feel Mother is closer to me when I am away from Master John and Miss Mary, somehow, I don’t feel as guilty for working for the whites – who had killed Mother when I am in the field, perhaps it is because I am not so near them, and this is the real reason for my dislike of working in the big house while most of us feel privilege working in the big house.
Life for me is better in the field than the big house but it is still dreadful. We have to work from sunrise to sunset everyday; during harvest time, we even had to work for up to 16 hours a day with only half an hour to off to eat. When I was first put to be a field hand, I went to sleep in that 8 hours of free time after the back breaking work but it is another thing when latter on, I had a family of my own.
Although I was only ten at age, like most children at my age, I was put into the third gang when my life of being a pair of field hands began. Every pair of field hands belongs to a gang. The gang system is wide use is wide use in Caribbean plantations. There are four gangs in the gang system; the fourth gangers are able workers who are at their prime age. I became a fourth ganger around the age of twelve when I started to grow into strong womanhood. Our jobs was the heaviest of all in the field, we had to harvest the sugar cane, dinged drains and carried very heavy things, it was exhausting and back breaking. The third gang are responsible for planting the sugar cane and weeding; the second gang had to hand fertilize the crops with dung and other less physical demand works while the first gangers’ jobs is normally fetching water and other kinds of simpler and less physical demand works.
Although we belonged to different gangs, the jobs for us were just as hard and tiring – we are divided into gangs by our physical fitness and the overseer always push us to yield maxim production. Children of about three or four years would be put into the first gang and they start to work then, when they have grown and strong enough, they would be put into the second gang, when they are even stronger, they would be put into the third gang. Eventually, we would be working in the forth gang when we get to the prime ages of lives, most of us stay in the fourth gang for the majority of years of our lives. Never a slave would have retired unless we have brought our freedom or free by our master for any other reasons. When we start to warn out, we would be put back into the third and work our way down and finally back to the first gang until our death. Some very old dying female slaves who were not even capable of jobs of first gangers were made to look after the babies of slaves whom work in the field. I think that is the best we could ever hope for if we were never free in our entire life – at least for the last years of your life, you do not have to do hard works in the field and most of all, your laughing innocent baby descendants would bring you joy; but who would not feel the grief knowing they would work like dogs soon?
Despite our heavy work in the sugar fields, 60% of us are women and girls. We are all controlled by an overseer who is always a male. I was surprise by the colour of the overseer on my first arrival to the field – black – like most of us; but no mercy he had shown to us. His whipping is serve and heavy, and yet, to a fellow black slave who are going through the same situation he had been through.
Rose, my fellow slave told me that the overseer was a promoted slave, she did not say much more after that for fear she would offended him and would be whipped if she say too much and her words come to the overseer’s ears.
The overseer did not want to be demoted again so he whipped us often and his whip is of the harshest and always cut into our bones for the slightest fault. I would much rather be demoted than do such an inhumane thing to my fellows, but who knows? Maybe if I was put into boots, I would have done what he has done as well. It is so easy to say I would not that, but it is so difficult not to do it.
We never get enough hours of rest and never a day off after so much heavy works and whips to bear in the long, slowly passing day.
Worse than animals, we are treated. When we sleep in and turn up after sun-rise for work we would get at least ten lashes on our bare back without anything to cover our body with by the overseer in front of the other slaves of both sexes no matter whether we are women or men. One of the way they whipped us was to tied our hands to our knees and tie our feet together, so that we are completely in the overseer’s mercy. There are other ways which they whip us but all the same, they whip us on our bare back. Some of us work slower because of the pain on our back after being whipped, and then we would be whipped for working so slow.
Nothing we want to do we are allow to do while working in the plantation, we are not allow to meet in groups, we are forbidden to talk in our native language, we are not allow to learn read and write… The whites think it is the basic human rights THEY should deserve, but we would be whipped into a mass of blood and flesh if we do that. Why? Why? Why are the whites more superior? What have they done to deserve this? We the black do all the works! O Lord, tell me why!
I know why they forbid us do this and that, mostly for the fear of slave rebellion, they should fear but they should not enslaved us! We are all human beings and should be treated equally. The white though, always think they are more superior. That was what I thought but latter on I found out that there are some good white whom they call abolitions against slavery as well, it was unbelievable when I first found out because from my captured to the enslavement, all the whites I met treaded us like animals but it is true, there are good white people.
Although our master made our lives so dull and hard and we were forbidden to do most of the things that we want to do, we still found ways to entertain ourselves, try our best to make our live worth living. I have not lived a worthless life, I tell myself when the question ‘what is the point of life?’ appear in my head.
When it is not harvest time, we would sing quietly together, and use whatever we could find to make something nicer to eat and share. I often tell stories mother told me to my fellow slaves who slowly became my friends. Making friends with the field hands is much easier than with the house slaves; our relation with the house slaves are often strained because they are so close to our master and mistress, you never know what are they up to. Having a friend who you can trust and tell your sorrows to is always a great comfort when facing so many problems in lives.
My best friend was Bobby but latter I could feel that my affection on him was not the kind of a friend should feel towards a friend but a wife feels towards her husband – I felt in love! It was about six years after became a field hand.
He could feel that too. Once I was whipped, my wrists were tied high onto a tree so that my tips of the toes could scarily touch the ground. The overseer then whipped me on my bear back in front of other slaves without clothes on. Dear Bobby would feel shame and sadness running in his heart seeing my bare body was being looking at by many eyes of men. Moreover, he saw his lover being whipped so unmercifully, my back was cut deep down and everyone could see my bones, my flesh cut off, blood ran down like streams of a river; my red, warm blood ran fast down onto my toe and to the ground; still, he whipped, with my hands tied, I could do nothing but groan, by the end, I was too tired even to groan.
And all these time, Bobby could do nothing but watch his honey being whipped. I do not blame him for he could not nor could anyone could do anything but watch. If he tried to stop the overseer whipping me, he might be whipped as well or flogged or have part of his body cut off or even sold off or even executed but would not save me. In fact, I am grateful he did not do anything, I could not live without him, he bring me joy and comfort, I do not want him to be sold or executed; I do not want to see him being whipped – it would be even more painful to see him being whipped than to be whipped myself.
I knew, watching the punishment of mine, Bob suffered more than me who was being punishment. I thought I was going to die like many had after the floggings, my back prickled every second even after the whipping is done and I could not even lied down on my back for months. I finally survived after Bobby rubbing my back with the little allowance of fat meet of his and mine and some others friends for many nights. Bobby latter told me I have had 104 lashes for refusing to work because I was thinking of Mother again.
Miss Mary was happy for me and Bobby to be married and told me I have to bear many children. My children would be her slaves. I myself belong to Master John, my in my womb is a future good of him, my ability of future child bearing in valuable to him and all these are important for him because by then, Slave Trade had been had been abolished in 1807 in Britain, two years before my marriage; the only method available to increase the slave population relied on the reproductive capacities of plantation slaves like us because British slave-trade was of the most important and supply most of the slaves. I did not think so much at the time, I bore Bobby a son and Master John a male slave soon after our marriage.
Though Sam latter became a free man, he was not a free-born. The free-born are those who are born of a free mother; it is sufficient for her to be free at the time when the child is born, ever if she was a slave when she conceived, and conversely, if she conceived as a free woman, but later gave birth as a slave, then the child would be recognised as a free-born. It does not matter whether the mother conceive the child within or with out a recognised marriage.
Apparently, we give birth to children easier and quicker than the white women so they showed little attention to my pregnant and labour. I did not have one day off all through my pregnancy.
They showed little interested on me but they cared much for child, careful not to harm him because he would be another property belong to Master John. While the overseer wanted to whip me, he would dig a hole in the ground for my big belly with my child inside, I was then made to lie my face down, he would then whip me as usual without giving any harm to my child. I was whipped and force to perform heavy works during my pregnancy and so suffered complications during delivery. The next month after labouring, I was sent back to the field.
I wanted to call my baby Samuel but Miss Mary insisted to call him Thomas; all I could do was to obey, my son is hers and Master’s procession, not mine.
I had to carry Samuel, that is what I call him when we are alone and in my mind, on my back while performing the back breaking works in the field, this does not matter for I love my son. I feel safe while he is on my back; I know nothing was harming Samuel while he was on my back.
I did not stop working as much even the moment of Mother been tucked into the Sea flashed in my mind because I was so scared that Master would sell my little Samuel away from me if I do anything wrong. I have lost my mother; I cannot afford to lose my son as well.
Tears glitter in my eyes when I thought of mother and thought about the future when Samuel would have to be slave like me and Bobby; but I still kept working hard, in that way, at least, I would be able to have Bobby and Samuel around me.
It was both joy and pain having Samuel on my back – I have to listen to him crying desperately for me to feed him. I cannot. I was not allowed to feed him while I am working. But I cannot bear listen to my dear boy’s cry – how could any mothers bear his child’s cry and not feed him? I could not bare it. O Once I tried to hide and feed my dear Samuel. Then the overseer came and flied his whipped on me, I crouched Samuel into my arms fearing the flying whip might land on my darling little infant.
Three or four lashes cut my flesh deeply; I did not move or protest because he might whip Samuel as well as me if I protest. The overseer, then, to my surprise stop his whipping and warned me not to do that anymore or Master John might sell Samuel away. He told to case my feeding at once and goes back to work but whip me no further. I was touched by that, I did not even dream a white overseer would be any kinder than a fellow Negro but here it was. By the birth of Samuel, the Negro overseer who I met on my first arrival to the field had died; he was replaced by a poor white.
The overseers’ job was nothing easy, they are under pressure of Master John to maximise profits. They did this by bullying the slaves into increasing productivity. The white overseer’s mercy on me was indeed extraordinary.
I did not feed Samuel during working hours ever again because I still feared he might really be sold away from me if I do that again. But it was hard to bare his cries.
Since I married to Bobby, I had to look after my family, cooked meals for Bob and Sam during the eight hours I left with after sunset and before sunrise of the day to complete the role of a mother and a wife. Bob had to cut the wood to light the fire, tried his best perform his role as a father and husband. We have not regretted of our marriage though, watching Samuel fall asleep and giggled when for nothing was the most enjoying time of each hard, heavy day. That was the only time we could study his innocent baby face in detail, but deep in our heart, we knew, one day, Samuel would work as a slave like us. We did not mention that at all, not even to each other; it was far too painful to get the words out of our lips.
Time flied on, Samuel soon learned to walk, I was so worried and had to teach him all the time not to offend the whites and not to go too far so that he would not taste the bitterness of the whip too early in his life. Samuel’s short childhood was a happy one; he played with other slave children not knowing he was a slave.
Wendy, a kind, old slave who was too weak and old to work in the field looked after them while Sam started to walk, I would love that job. Wendy was always like a Granny to me and to most of us, I did not have much worries in the field, knowing Samuel would be well looked after.
Poor little Samuel’s happy childhood ceased bitterly when he reached the age of three because he was a healthy strong child who was capable of doing the works of the first gangers. I told him to be good every morning but what have to come had to come. One day I saw my dear little Sam spilt the water, the fear nearly made me faint. Then with my own eyes, I watched the whip cut into Sam’s bones. Samuel saw me as well; he cried with pain at once and ran to me with his unsteady, babyish walk, tripping and falling all the time. He thought his mother, who he had always looked upon to could always save him when he is feeling scare, but all I could do was to watch my son being flogged.
Sam must have learned by that that his mother who he had looked upon too was a useless creature. I felt ashamed of myself but if I try to do anything to him, the overseer might flog dear Sam ever harsher. I was a mother but a useless mother who was not even able to protect her son!
Meanwhile, I had another child with Bob. As helpless to Sam as to Lizzie, I was. Never could I feed her while she need to be fed in the field; while she is being whipped, I could do nothing but watch.
I and Bob could not provide much for our children, nor materials nor time, the best I could do was use the bare eight hour to look after them, tried to give them the warmth of home, and taught them not the offend the whites since they were little so they would not be flogged us much and would not be sold away from me. But not much I could do apart from these most basic things, we did not have the freedom to look after our children.
Seeing Sam and Lizzie growing up was a pleasure but a trauma at the same time. They are one of the very little sources of comfort for me. It is a pleasure to look after them after the pressure works in the field. Looking into the early childhood of my children often reminded my own childhood. When I was their age, I was a happy child, played in the garden everyday, listened to stories and poems composed by our ascendants and adults, we danced and sang and laughed – my children could do none. Born as slaves, worked like a dog, my dear children could do nothing but these. Seeing them grew up as slaves made me feel sorry for them and ashamed of myself for they could do nothing they want to do but worked like a dog; and as mother, I was totally helpless to them.
Master John and Miss Mary were nicer than I credited them, nicer than some of the other planter anyway. Some of the planter would sell the child of the mother away when the child is not yet twelve months old, once they are separated, it is almost impossible to meet up again and children grow up not knowing their own mothers.
Perhaps I should count myself as lucky to have Sam and Lizzie with me. I could not imagine having any of them to be sold away from me. Mater John always keeps his slave’s family together while possible, he would not sell children, mother or husband away and apart unless we have done something he thinks is unacceptable.
Once when I was talking to my long missed sister, she told me that she had known a friend on the first few years after she was enslaved. Her friend was allow to get married with the person she wanted to be married to but after she gave birth to a child, her husband was sold to another plantation. Her husband made several attempts of escape and finally succeeded but was recaptured, this repeated for a few times. One day after many years, he managed to escape to his old master’s plantation so that he could steal his wife and child from his old master. But only then that he found out his family had been sold to somewhere else. He had never seen them again ever.
Master John also allowed Sam, who had selected to be the coach driver when he was sixteen to do extra jobs when he was out there when Sam is not needed. I was quite happy to have Sam not to be a field hand doing the backbreaking heavy works, but be a coach driver! Coach driver is the nicest job you can get as a slave, and there is only one Coach Driver. Sam got to get out of the plantation to see the world outside that I had been longing to see. Master John is nice enough to allow him to do some extra jobs to earn some money and hopefully, be able to purchase his and Lizzie’s freedoms.
Working as a coach driver for those masters who are not as nice and forbid their slaves to earn any money is still a nice job – when you are not needed, all you do is to wait, peacefully, no overseers’ whip flog on you; only that you don’t have much hope of being a free man like most of the other slaves.
All these years, since Sam became a coach driver, the most important thing in life that kept me going was hope. Hoping that Sam and Liz would be able to buy their freedom one day, I no longer cared if I was to be free not, have my children free was enough for me. I have never even dreamt that me and Bob would be free, but here we are, have a body belong to us now not to our master.
All people in our family worked hard for it, we gathered animals and meet that left over for Sam to sell in the market and he often drove people in town to places to and charge for it.
But Sam had to be careful; he must not let Master John and Miss Mary to wait for him to come back from his extra works. Once, Sam failed to meet Master John on time, Master John was furious at the time and intended to send Sam back to the sugar field; Sam at once fell onto his knees and begged Master John to flog him and forgave him, promising he would never do it again.
My dear boy valued his job as a coach driver so much because it was the only hope to rescue his family from slavery.
Master must have either been touch by Sam or, more likely, knew Sam would never be late again after that. He gave Sam twenty serve lashes on his bare shoulder, Sam bared all the lashes on his knees without moving or being tied.
Lizzie was a laundry maid ever since she started to work. Her job was not as tiring as a field hand but Miss Mary is very vain and would not let a spot of dirt on her clothes. Lizzie had to fetch water for the dirty laundry or sometimes washed in the river. She normally had regular and enough sleeps but on special occasions like Christmas when Miss Mary would changed into several outfit a day or when Miss Mary was menstruating, Lizzie had to work extra long hours to ensure the dresses and bedding and other clothing were washed. As well as washing the laundry, Lizzie had to iron the laundry as well. Lizzie would be whipped if one tiny stain of blood stay on the bedding or any thing at all stained on any laundry and had not be washed off. But sometimes, these were impossible to be washed off.
I worried about her all the time because every now and then, I would hear rumours and sometimes see slaves being whipped to death. And I knew Lizzie was whipped frequently.
Whenever a fellow slave was died for any reason, we would gather together at night after sunset when we were did not have to work. We would burry with the corpse a little paddle with which would cross the ocean to the dead’s own country. His/ her nose would face west towards Africa, our homeland, where we belong to.
One day, Sam came to us and told us he had a surprise for us, I did not know what that little playful boy was up to then he told us, finally, so long I have waited for - he had saved enough money to purchase the freedom for one of us.
I could not believe my ears, I knew the day would finally come, but I did not guessed that it would be so fast – ten years we have waited for, we finally made our first step.
I asked Bob and Sam who should we buy, I had always wanted to buy Lizzie because she suffered more than Sam, and if Lizzie was free, both Sam and Lizzie would have time to earn some money to buy the freedom for Sam and that is enough for me, of course, it would be nice to have Bob free as well, but I thought I should not make false hope.
However, I did not know how Bob and Sam think about it, after all, Sam made the most effort out of all of us to earn the money, he might want to free himself; and Bob was the father and husband of the family, his decision should be the final if Sam was willing to listen to him. And I thought Bob might want to Sam to be free first instead of Lizzie because Sam was the male.
To my surprise, Bob wanted to buy Lizzie as well for the same reason as me. As for Sam, he wanted to buy me because he said because my works was the heaviest of all. I was so touched by that, he worked all these years and keeled down to his humility to bear the twenty lashes, not for his own freedom but for mine. But I told him, with my true heart, I would be happier to see one of my children to be freed than to have the freedom of myself and told him to buy Lizzie who really did suffered lashes frequently at the time.
Sam finally agreed. And we one day asked Master John to sell Lizzie’s freedom to her; he agreed and took the money from us then set Lizzie free. I cannot describe what I felt at the time knowing one of my children was finally not a slave, she could do what she wanted to do, although she had no rights of a citizen, she did not, at least, had to serve or be flogged anymore. After all these years… One day, I thought and still think, when I could see Sam be freed as well, I could die peacefully without dissatisfy or pity but in pace.
Things happened all better than I thought when I was about forty of age, a new Anti-Slavery Society was formed in 1823 when Lizzie was freed. The Anti-Slavery members included Thomas Clarkson, Henry Brougham, William Wilberforce, Thomas Fowell Buxton, Elizabeth Heyrick, Mary Lloyd, Jane Smeal, Elizabeth Pease, and Anne Knight. They prevailed ten years later with the Slavery Abolition Act.
When Lizzie was freed, she worked as an employed maid and she made quite a bit of money, Sam himself had worked hard like he used to; five years latter Lizzie was freed, she and Sam had gathered enough money to buy Sam’s freedom. Have all my children set freed, I was happier than ever.
In some parts of the Caribbean, where belonged to the British Empire as a colonise, ‘An Act for the Abolition of Slavery throughout the British Colonies; for promoting the Industry of the manumitted Slaves; and for compensating the Persons hitherto entitled to the Services of such Slaves’ had took place on 28th August, 1833.
However, it was not until 1st August, 1834 that the majority of slaves under the age of six through thought the British Empire were set free. Slaves who were above the age of six, on the other hand, continued to serve their former masters for a period of time after the abolition of slavery, these slaves were redesignated as ‘apprentices’. The so-called ‘apprentices’ worked like slaves like they used to before the pass of the act of the abolition of slavery. Most of them were not released from their apprenticentship until the 1st August, 1840.
Baako, my long missed sister was setted free long before that. Only five years she had been enslaved and was setted free by her master about fifty-five years ago.
Baako was a rare beauty with a pair of glitering, cold, mystery black eyes in her late teens when her master first setted his eyes on her. Like me, she was brought as a house-slave, her master watched her every graceful movement whenever he could see Baako.
Baako soon became her master’s mistress and bore him a mulatto, whom people called, but he was as lovely as his mother and is a nice boy. He was alomost white with blue eyes.
My nephew never know his father because Baako was setted free after she was prgnet. She was too much a lover for her master to send away from the big house to work in the field or anywhere else with her big belly and at the same time, he did not want his wife to know his affair with my sister.
Baako went look for me after her labour, meanwhile working in viours places to earn some money so that she could feed her son and herself in the furture and she was saving up a sum of money so she could buy my freedom when she found me.
She kept serching for me for many years and still no succee. She had been thinking about giving up but she had always start the serching again in the morning on the other day.
Not long after Sam was freed, Baako finally found me and managed to purchece my and Bob’s freedoms.
With her, a tall, young man, white looking of about four or five years older than my oldest son who happened to be my nephew, and the negro next to him was his mother, my sister.
I could not reconise Baako when I first saw her after the long forty years separtion, but I knew, not long after we met each other, Baako is my sister. She told me stories told by our mother in our native tone in our accent that I have not heard nor spoke for many years.
We were both full of joy when we met each other, she brought my and Bob’s freedom that, master John was nice enough to sell us.
All of our family had at last became free after all these inhumane years. We were the only family who manage to buy everyone in our family’s freedom in the whole of the plantation I worked in. I had never thought such a thing would ever happen on me.
We got all on well with each other including my nephew who everyone thought was white. During that time, I learned read and write with from Baako who was taught by her master. Teaching a negro slave to read or write was illegal in Amarican but it was not forbidden in the British Empire although hardly any slave-owner do that. Bakko was one of the very few slaves whom were taught read and write by their master.
We worked hard and managed to earn quite a bit of money but free lives was still much pleasenter than worked as a slave. About six years after we were all free, we moved to London where slavery had been offically abolitished.
That was the second time I went on a ship, but this time, I was not chained up and lied on the hard wooden filthy floor. Seeing the Sea again remainded me of mother, but I know she had always be with me all these time. She would smile to me if she see my happy family had been free from slavery and she would coudle her grand children.
She can see it all, I know she can, I can feel she is with me right now. Mother have not die. She is always, forever, living in my head and will not leave me behind.
We were not treated as good as the white on the ship but after the voage in the middle passage and working as a slave, I was quite happy with everything we had and the way we were treated.
I had six grandchildren by the end of the time we were staying in London. They were all happy, helthy children, free-born and free-men for ever.
We were one of the many free-blacks in London whom lived in proverty but we had happy times in there caring for each other away from the plantation. We met many white abolitions who strongly against slavery, they really changed my view towards the white folks, some of them are nice people as well. They are the ones who fought freedom for many of us for many years. These white men took a big part in abolishing slavery and making slavery illeagal,with them, there are some former black slaves. We are all indvaul and shoud not jude the man as a bad man just because he is white and they should not see us as ideal slaves they could use just because we are black.
Our family had lived a good life with the surname ‘Smith’, my master’s, my sister used her master’s, ‘Brown’. All my will have come true but to free every single slave on earth, this is why I am writhing this to tell everyone on earth the lives of slaves and beg the masters to give mercies to their slaves, free them as well as telling the slaves to fright the freedom for themselves. I no longer have to worry about my children’s lives at risk of being whipped to death, I can now see them do what they want to do, they are now free and healthy and have everything I want them to have. This weak, feeble old woman who had lived a long life considering I was once a slave who had expected to live for twenty had live until tody.
But the time that have to come have to come. I shall rest in pace in my lovely children and grandchildren and husband, and sister, and nephew, and children-in-law… s’ warm, loving pace. I shall die without worries to see my dear mother again...
Sources
Websites:
Books:
Slave Girl by Patricia C McKissack ISBN 0 439 98186 7, 978 0439 98186 6
Slaves & Slavery by Duncan Clarke ISBN 1 840 13167 5