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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: History / Historical
- Published: 10/21/2017
I was born on 18 April, 1801 in Wisconsin several decades before the Civil War of 1861 began. I was a free Black man and lived blissfully with my wife, Celia, Caleb, and my children. I was blessed for, at that time, torture and brutality was carried out against many African Americans frequently in the South.
Where I lived, there was constant mixing of races and I too had many White friends. I was a renowned writer of the state and earned a decent income with many other part-time jobs. I always wanted to sell books in other states so as to expand my writing business. Thus, I felt my prayers were answered when I got a great opportunity to do so. A White businessman (Smith) coming from Idaho presented me with a remarkable deal to extend my trade. I travelled with Smith southwards to Texas. I was hesitant on going at first but later I realized that the deal was too prodigious to be missed out on. There was going to be a party where many writers across the country were going to collaborate.
I stood in the hotel room getting ready for the big day when somebody knocked at the door. It was the waiter who served me with an ice cold drink. In the scorching heat, I gulped it down to the last drop; not knowing that even one sip could change my life forever. A few minutes later I felt very dizzy and dropped to the ground. In the last few seconds of my consciousness, I saw Smith standing in front of me, grinning, while holding a check in his hands. I was sold.
When I awoke, I found my hands tied up in chains lying on the concrete floor. It was a dark room and I couldn’t see much. There were many other African Americans including women and children who were tied up as well. I could only hear desperation; screaming, wailing, sobbing, trembling, quivering and shuddered exhaling. I could constantly hear the voice of a woman consoling her children. Those voices haunt me till this day. Never had I seen such a dingy and desperate room as I had seen that day. I knew not what would befall me next, but I for one was calm and patient. I lay there constantly pondering about what would come upon me next.
It was a long time after a shutter opened. Bright light entered the dingy room stabbing the gloom. I could see the silhouette of two men standing in the light. One of them ushered us outside while the other held a shotgun preventing us from running away. To my dismay I found out later that I was in New Orleans, Louisiana, where there was constant brutality and I was thousands of miles away from my family.
I started telling them my side of the story and how I had been defrauded but no one was to listen. I soon made a fuss. I was determined not to do anything or listen to anything until I got my freedom. It didn’t take long when the gunman arrived and used his gun to bruise my back, legs and shoulders severely. I passed out for some time after this event.
When I awakened, the owner formed a line and we were ushered outside. I could see enormous plantations of cotton and that the entire farmland was surrounded by huge dense forests. Like lamb to the slaughter, everyone was ushered to a pigsty, where there lay 5 troughs full of murky water and some soap. Two more White men (who were assistants) came from the side and upon the owner’s orders opened our chains. I could finally feel the sensation in my purple hands which had turned completely numb. The assistants were ordered to strip our clothes off. All women defied this measure and strongly resisted. The owner took out his whip and started lashing some of the women. When women and girls screamed and cried as loud as they could more whips confronted them. Everyone took off their clothes, giving in to the owner. Never in my life had I felt so affronted and abused.
We were ordered to clean ourselves with the same water in which the pigs lay and drank out of. We got new clothes although they were old and smelly. They were ill-fitting and were made of a very coarse material. The owner said that we were to be provided with only one pair of shoes and two sets of clothes a year. He finally introduced himself. His name was James. He was our so called 'owner' and we were ordered to put the word ‘master’ at the end of each sentence whenever we spoke to him and ‘sir’ whenever we spoke to his assistants.
We were allocated a place beside the plantations to live in. There were two small wooden huts in which four people lived in each hut. Our arrival caused lots of resentment as we would cramp the room for those already present there. In total there were 19 people; 7 women, 3 kids, and 9 men. The two huts had thatched roofs and dirt floors. Old boards had been nailed up on the spaces in the walls and in some places old clothes and rags were fitted inside the cracks in the walls. There was almost no furniture. Our beds were made out of straw or old rags. Some people who worked in James’s house had a slightly better living as they lived in and around the house.
We were not to be called by our original names. We had what were called slave names. My slave name was ‘Edwin’. I was not to say to anybody that I came from Wisconsin and that too as a freeman. I was to say that I was a runaway slave from Georgia who ended up there in New Orleans, Louisiana.
We were given pots and pans for cooking as we had to make our own food. James kept our food budget to the bare minimum. Weekly distribution of rations were made on every Saturday which included things like lard, cornmeal, some meat, peas, molasses and flour. We were mostly on a diet of things like cornbread or fatty meat. We prepared food in the morning time and it was to be consumed at daybreak.
Our daily routine was pretty monotonous. We were expected to keep our nose to the grindstone. We worked from dawn till sunset without stop. It mostly included working in the cotton and sugarcane fields. Occasionally, I was sent out on errands such as buying grocery or delivering letters. We planted seeds in spring, and when the cotton was ready for picking in July, there was a competition on who would pick the most cotton. On average each of us used to pick 200 pounds of cotton in the day. But Alexia was a girl of no more than sixteen years of age and she would pick approximately 500 pounds a day. She was James’ most treasured slave.
Alexia was a typical African girl. She was dark-skinned, curly hair, and lean. Alexia became a good friend of mine over time. We used to sleep in the same hut. Slaves kept coming and going but both of us had remained for years to come as we were efficient cotton-pickers. She taught me an effective way of picking cotton which helped me become better than others when the competition was held in July. I had lots of sympathy for the poor girl as she was a regular target of rape and abuse by James.
Regular whippings on petty things were common. After sometime, seeing someone get whipped wasn’t shocking to me anymore. To prevent unity amongst us, James often ordered one slave to whip the other one. At one time, Alexia was so famished that she stole some cake from Mrs. James’ kitchen. When James found out about it, he tied her completely bare against a tree and handed me a whip. I immediately refused. James in the twinkling of an eye took out his pocket pistol and pointed it towards my head. Having no other option, I cracked the whip in the air and started whipping the girl. Every time I whipped her, James would tell me to whip her harder and harder, and so I did.
In truth, I enjoyed beating Alexia and after a few whips I put my full energy into it. I relished it not because I had any sort of enmity with Alexia but because after such a long time I had let my emotions run wild and free. It was an opportunity for me to release all the anger that had accumulated in me for years.
Years were monotonous and tiring. So many years went by it was difficult to keep track of time. I wanted to spend my night writing but I had no pages or pencils, neither could I afford one. We had no free time either. We barely talked to each other. By the time we came back from working in extreme heat in the fields, we were so fatigued that we fell asleep. We all sang hymns while working in the plantations which helped us boost our morale or to coordinate with each other during work. It was a tradition which all of us followed.
When I was a freeman I had worked part-time as a carpenter. Thus, James often involved me in construction and repair work as well; building of storage rooms, sheds, and a bathroom which was to be used by James and his assistants only. I often fixed his house too. He called me during the rainy seasons to fix his ceiling or his floorboards.
It was New Year’s Eve. Everyone got an extra set of clothes and a pair of shoes. We also got some extra food to eat. James’ threw a small party at his house where we were forced to dance and celebrate the occasion. After being abused once again, Alexia came to me in the middle of the night when I was asleep. She woke me up asking for a favor. She wanted to commit suicide, but since she couldn’t do it herself she wanted someone to do it for her. The words she said can never be forgotten, “Take me down to the edge of the river. Grab me by the throat and drown me! Keep drowning me until I struggle no more, until the life doesn’t completely come out of me. Dump me in the river and come back. Here, I’ll give you my life savings to do it.” Alexia handed me a few coins, her face covered with tears. I couldn’t do it either so I gave her the coins back and told her to ask somebody else.
James had hired a new worker one day. His name was George. He was going to help us work in the cotton fields. With time he had become very familiar to me and he often spent time with me. He even helped me with my tasks. One night, I had the wildest idea. What if I wrote a letter to my close White friends upstate and George could be the one to deliver the letter?
The day finally arrived when I was sent on an errand to buy groceries. I went quietly into Alexia’s hut and stole her savings. I knew I did a very wrong thing but for going back to my family, I was even ready to kill. I wore my slave tag and set out on my journey.
I found out that Alexia’s money was a penny short for buying the paper and pencil. So I used Mrs. James’ money to buy it. I made two separate receipts. The one for the paper and pencil I threw away and on returning I hid the two things behind a tree. When I came back to the plantation I anxiously returned Mrs. James’ the money hoping that she wouldn’t find out that it was a penny less. To my misfortune, she did. I was questioned but I kept cool and replied that the storeowner did not have change. I was thoroughly checked for more money but nothing was found. It was surely a narrow escape.
I began writing my letter at midnight. I started off by writing about my identity. I continued by writing about how I was defrauded and sold into slavery. I finally ended the letter by writing each and every minute detail of my location and the address. I woke George up at about 2 A.M. Giving him the letter, I explained him everything. He silently nodded and said that I could count on him. On the spur of the moment, I gave him a tight hug and thanked him profoundly. I went back to my hut, overjoyed, buoyant and at the same time exhausted, hit the sack.
The next morning George told Master James that he had to leave north to meet his parents as they were unwell. I was so glad upon seeing this and felt very optimistic as I would see my family soon.
Almost a month went by but no news was to be heard or seen. It was January and the temperature was at its all-year low. It was very difficult to work in the cold. The snow covered the land like a bed sheet and it seemed never-ending. Cold wind sent shivers down my spine. My patience was running thin and I started thinking that I had been made a fool of once again.
Four months had gone by and I had completely lost all hope. The weather became warmer now and we were ordered to start cultivating the land once again. I was working in the field when I saw a carriage turn up out of nowhere I saw the Sherriff and another White man in the carriage. The Sherriff called me and I slowly walked towards him wondering what had happened. As I walked closer, my eyes lit up as I recognized my closest friend William. I ran towards him and hugged him tightly. The Sherriff asked me a few questions to make sure that I was really the Caleb he was looking for. I gave quick replies and both of them nodded.
The Sherriff called James outside and informed him that he would be tried in court for keeping freemen like me illegally. James was completely outraged upon hearing this and started pulling me back and began negotiating. I let go of James’ grip and slapped him across the face leaving him in utter shock. Forgetting completely about everyone, I hastily sat in the carriage and started towards home where I looked forward to meeting my family and friends after 16 years.
Enslaved(Ubayd)
I was born on 18 April, 1801 in Wisconsin several decades before the Civil War of 1861 began. I was a free Black man and lived blissfully with my wife, Celia, Caleb, and my children. I was blessed for, at that time, torture and brutality was carried out against many African Americans frequently in the South.
Where I lived, there was constant mixing of races and I too had many White friends. I was a renowned writer of the state and earned a decent income with many other part-time jobs. I always wanted to sell books in other states so as to expand my writing business. Thus, I felt my prayers were answered when I got a great opportunity to do so. A White businessman (Smith) coming from Idaho presented me with a remarkable deal to extend my trade. I travelled with Smith southwards to Texas. I was hesitant on going at first but later I realized that the deal was too prodigious to be missed out on. There was going to be a party where many writers across the country were going to collaborate.
I stood in the hotel room getting ready for the big day when somebody knocked at the door. It was the waiter who served me with an ice cold drink. In the scorching heat, I gulped it down to the last drop; not knowing that even one sip could change my life forever. A few minutes later I felt very dizzy and dropped to the ground. In the last few seconds of my consciousness, I saw Smith standing in front of me, grinning, while holding a check in his hands. I was sold.
When I awoke, I found my hands tied up in chains lying on the concrete floor. It was a dark room and I couldn’t see much. There were many other African Americans including women and children who were tied up as well. I could only hear desperation; screaming, wailing, sobbing, trembling, quivering and shuddered exhaling. I could constantly hear the voice of a woman consoling her children. Those voices haunt me till this day. Never had I seen such a dingy and desperate room as I had seen that day. I knew not what would befall me next, but I for one was calm and patient. I lay there constantly pondering about what would come upon me next.
It was a long time after a shutter opened. Bright light entered the dingy room stabbing the gloom. I could see the silhouette of two men standing in the light. One of them ushered us outside while the other held a shotgun preventing us from running away. To my dismay I found out later that I was in New Orleans, Louisiana, where there was constant brutality and I was thousands of miles away from my family.
I started telling them my side of the story and how I had been defrauded but no one was to listen. I soon made a fuss. I was determined not to do anything or listen to anything until I got my freedom. It didn’t take long when the gunman arrived and used his gun to bruise my back, legs and shoulders severely. I passed out for some time after this event.
When I awakened, the owner formed a line and we were ushered outside. I could see enormous plantations of cotton and that the entire farmland was surrounded by huge dense forests. Like lamb to the slaughter, everyone was ushered to a pigsty, where there lay 5 troughs full of murky water and some soap. Two more White men (who were assistants) came from the side and upon the owner’s orders opened our chains. I could finally feel the sensation in my purple hands which had turned completely numb. The assistants were ordered to strip our clothes off. All women defied this measure and strongly resisted. The owner took out his whip and started lashing some of the women. When women and girls screamed and cried as loud as they could more whips confronted them. Everyone took off their clothes, giving in to the owner. Never in my life had I felt so affronted and abused.
We were ordered to clean ourselves with the same water in which the pigs lay and drank out of. We got new clothes although they were old and smelly. They were ill-fitting and were made of a very coarse material. The owner said that we were to be provided with only one pair of shoes and two sets of clothes a year. He finally introduced himself. His name was James. He was our so called 'owner' and we were ordered to put the word ‘master’ at the end of each sentence whenever we spoke to him and ‘sir’ whenever we spoke to his assistants.
We were allocated a place beside the plantations to live in. There were two small wooden huts in which four people lived in each hut. Our arrival caused lots of resentment as we would cramp the room for those already present there. In total there were 19 people; 7 women, 3 kids, and 9 men. The two huts had thatched roofs and dirt floors. Old boards had been nailed up on the spaces in the walls and in some places old clothes and rags were fitted inside the cracks in the walls. There was almost no furniture. Our beds were made out of straw or old rags. Some people who worked in James’s house had a slightly better living as they lived in and around the house.
We were not to be called by our original names. We had what were called slave names. My slave name was ‘Edwin’. I was not to say to anybody that I came from Wisconsin and that too as a freeman. I was to say that I was a runaway slave from Georgia who ended up there in New Orleans, Louisiana.
We were given pots and pans for cooking as we had to make our own food. James kept our food budget to the bare minimum. Weekly distribution of rations were made on every Saturday which included things like lard, cornmeal, some meat, peas, molasses and flour. We were mostly on a diet of things like cornbread or fatty meat. We prepared food in the morning time and it was to be consumed at daybreak.
Our daily routine was pretty monotonous. We were expected to keep our nose to the grindstone. We worked from dawn till sunset without stop. It mostly included working in the cotton and sugarcane fields. Occasionally, I was sent out on errands such as buying grocery or delivering letters. We planted seeds in spring, and when the cotton was ready for picking in July, there was a competition on who would pick the most cotton. On average each of us used to pick 200 pounds of cotton in the day. But Alexia was a girl of no more than sixteen years of age and she would pick approximately 500 pounds a day. She was James’ most treasured slave.
Alexia was a typical African girl. She was dark-skinned, curly hair, and lean. Alexia became a good friend of mine over time. We used to sleep in the same hut. Slaves kept coming and going but both of us had remained for years to come as we were efficient cotton-pickers. She taught me an effective way of picking cotton which helped me become better than others when the competition was held in July. I had lots of sympathy for the poor girl as she was a regular target of rape and abuse by James.
Regular whippings on petty things were common. After sometime, seeing someone get whipped wasn’t shocking to me anymore. To prevent unity amongst us, James often ordered one slave to whip the other one. At one time, Alexia was so famished that she stole some cake from Mrs. James’ kitchen. When James found out about it, he tied her completely bare against a tree and handed me a whip. I immediately refused. James in the twinkling of an eye took out his pocket pistol and pointed it towards my head. Having no other option, I cracked the whip in the air and started whipping the girl. Every time I whipped her, James would tell me to whip her harder and harder, and so I did.
In truth, I enjoyed beating Alexia and after a few whips I put my full energy into it. I relished it not because I had any sort of enmity with Alexia but because after such a long time I had let my emotions run wild and free. It was an opportunity for me to release all the anger that had accumulated in me for years.
Years were monotonous and tiring. So many years went by it was difficult to keep track of time. I wanted to spend my night writing but I had no pages or pencils, neither could I afford one. We had no free time either. We barely talked to each other. By the time we came back from working in extreme heat in the fields, we were so fatigued that we fell asleep. We all sang hymns while working in the plantations which helped us boost our morale or to coordinate with each other during work. It was a tradition which all of us followed.
When I was a freeman I had worked part-time as a carpenter. Thus, James often involved me in construction and repair work as well; building of storage rooms, sheds, and a bathroom which was to be used by James and his assistants only. I often fixed his house too. He called me during the rainy seasons to fix his ceiling or his floorboards.
It was New Year’s Eve. Everyone got an extra set of clothes and a pair of shoes. We also got some extra food to eat. James’ threw a small party at his house where we were forced to dance and celebrate the occasion. After being abused once again, Alexia came to me in the middle of the night when I was asleep. She woke me up asking for a favor. She wanted to commit suicide, but since she couldn’t do it herself she wanted someone to do it for her. The words she said can never be forgotten, “Take me down to the edge of the river. Grab me by the throat and drown me! Keep drowning me until I struggle no more, until the life doesn’t completely come out of me. Dump me in the river and come back. Here, I’ll give you my life savings to do it.” Alexia handed me a few coins, her face covered with tears. I couldn’t do it either so I gave her the coins back and told her to ask somebody else.
James had hired a new worker one day. His name was George. He was going to help us work in the cotton fields. With time he had become very familiar to me and he often spent time with me. He even helped me with my tasks. One night, I had the wildest idea. What if I wrote a letter to my close White friends upstate and George could be the one to deliver the letter?
The day finally arrived when I was sent on an errand to buy groceries. I went quietly into Alexia’s hut and stole her savings. I knew I did a very wrong thing but for going back to my family, I was even ready to kill. I wore my slave tag and set out on my journey.
I found out that Alexia’s money was a penny short for buying the paper and pencil. So I used Mrs. James’ money to buy it. I made two separate receipts. The one for the paper and pencil I threw away and on returning I hid the two things behind a tree. When I came back to the plantation I anxiously returned Mrs. James’ the money hoping that she wouldn’t find out that it was a penny less. To my misfortune, she did. I was questioned but I kept cool and replied that the storeowner did not have change. I was thoroughly checked for more money but nothing was found. It was surely a narrow escape.
I began writing my letter at midnight. I started off by writing about my identity. I continued by writing about how I was defrauded and sold into slavery. I finally ended the letter by writing each and every minute detail of my location and the address. I woke George up at about 2 A.M. Giving him the letter, I explained him everything. He silently nodded and said that I could count on him. On the spur of the moment, I gave him a tight hug and thanked him profoundly. I went back to my hut, overjoyed, buoyant and at the same time exhausted, hit the sack.
The next morning George told Master James that he had to leave north to meet his parents as they were unwell. I was so glad upon seeing this and felt very optimistic as I would see my family soon.
Almost a month went by but no news was to be heard or seen. It was January and the temperature was at its all-year low. It was very difficult to work in the cold. The snow covered the land like a bed sheet and it seemed never-ending. Cold wind sent shivers down my spine. My patience was running thin and I started thinking that I had been made a fool of once again.
Four months had gone by and I had completely lost all hope. The weather became warmer now and we were ordered to start cultivating the land once again. I was working in the field when I saw a carriage turn up out of nowhere I saw the Sherriff and another White man in the carriage. The Sherriff called me and I slowly walked towards him wondering what had happened. As I walked closer, my eyes lit up as I recognized my closest friend William. I ran towards him and hugged him tightly. The Sherriff asked me a few questions to make sure that I was really the Caleb he was looking for. I gave quick replies and both of them nodded.
The Sherriff called James outside and informed him that he would be tried in court for keeping freemen like me illegally. James was completely outraged upon hearing this and started pulling me back and began negotiating. I let go of James’ grip and slapped him across the face leaving him in utter shock. Forgetting completely about everyone, I hastily sat in the carriage and started towards home where I looked forward to meeting my family and friends after 16 years.
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