Dear Journal,
Since I last wrote, my entire life has changed.
I’d woken up early that morning – stirred by the winds that were whirling around me whilst I slept. The winds howled like unhappy spirits and I remember waking to an uneasy, anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach as if something bad was about to happen. I was not wrong dear Journal. I found my Mother collecting up wood for the morning’s fire and my Father preparing for his day ahead. Going to him, I could feel his apprehension – he too had felt what I was feeling. How I miss my Father; his quiet calm, his brave and noble attitude. I wonder where he is now. We ate breakfast together that morning, in silence, unknowing but suspecting of the day’s forthcoming events.
Father went off with the other tribesmen then. Mother and I were left behind to clear up. The day continued as normal and my fears began to alleviate as well as the winds, which died down in the midday sun. I began to relax into the day and helped my Mother to gather food and more wood for that night’s meal. She and I laughed as we worked: I remember that much – she and I were happy. It was mid-afternoon when they came.
I was stood, resting for a moment, when I noticed him on the horizon heading straight for us. At first, I thought it was an animal because he was moving too quickly for a man. Then, as he grew closer, I realised it was a man on horseback and as I looked closer still, the man became several men – all adorning horses and hurtling towards us with purpose. I cried out for Mother – shouted to warn her of the impending danger. She did not hear me at first and when I pointed at the men, her face dropped and she looked more frightened than I’ve ever seen anyone look before. Panicked, she asked me to run to find my father. I ran faster than I’ve ever run before – faster than the howling winds that morning. I found him and the other tribesmen a short way out of the tribe’s camp and between gasping for breath, I told him of what I had seen. I knew it was serious then – when I saw how scared my father looked. A daughter should never have to see that expression on her father’s face.
Arriving back at camp, we found turmoil. The men had turned our lives upside down. My Mother was crying and was being held with the other women in a small area and was unable to escape because of the horses that patrolled around them. I shouted to her and she turned towards the sound of my voice; I could see her tear-streaked face and felt anger at these men – who were they? How dare they upset my mother so? The other men of the tribe had begun to fight back but after a quick struggle, it became clear that our rudimentary weapons were no match for the horse and fire power of the men. We were powerless to defend ourselves. It was an ambush and we had not been ready at all.
We were herded then (I hate to use that word to describe humans, but there is no other word that sums it up quite as succinctly; we were treated like animals) towards the coast. We weren’t allowed to stop and we weren’t allowed to drink. It was hot – my mouth was as dry as the earth and the nearer to the coast we got, the more the winds got up. Dust blew in my eyes and I couldn’t stop to sort it out because, if I did, it would cause a problem for everyone else: we were so closely packed together.
When we arrived at the water, there was a huge boat waiting for us. Without hesitation, we were pushed on to it. We were finally able to sit down as we were forced into the bowels of the ship. It was cramped. I could barely move and the longer we were there, the more insufferable the air became. There were loads of us shoved into a relatively tiny space: the heat grew, the smell intensified and the panic was palpable. We were scared and if fear had a scent, it was there in the bottom of that boat with us that day. The days wore on. I have no idea how long we were on that boat. The smell of faeces and urine quickly gave way to the smell of the dead as several of a number gave in to the heat, exhaustion and hunger of our situation. I’m sure that the fear helped them along their way too.
After what felt like an eternity, the ship hit land and the men came and forced us back up into the light. The sun hurt my eyes and it stung which made our stumbling on to the shore of Virginia. I turned to find my parents but I couldn’t see them. I never saw them again. We were pushed towards a number of white men who began to shout out amounts of money. I didn’t realise what it meant at first but as my childhood friends were pushed off to men, I realised: we were being sold. I began to scrabble around but found nothing. I was pushed towards a man. My life ended then – I never saw my friends or family again. I heard, later on, that many of us had been sent off to other places like Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia and South Carolina. We are forced to work for no money and I received no formal education. I have seen dogs that are treated better than us. All I can do is hope that, one day, I’ll once again be free.
References
“Percent of the Total Population Who Are Black or African American Alone.” U.S. Census Bureau. U.S. Census Bureau. 2010. Web. 22 May 2011.
“The Journey to America.” Think Quest. Think Quest. n.d. Web. 22 May 2011.
