The torment of my people

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It all began for me in 1755. There was a large-scale introduction of African slave labor in the Caribbean for sugar production and the New World was rising and was in dire need of cheap labor. I was a mere seventeen at the time, experiencing the wonderful feeling of being a teenager. I had heard of our people being forced to get on big ships and sent to the Americas, but I never thought I would come to face it in my lifetime. I had no worries. Until one night, I was asleep and I heard yelling and shots outside. I went out to see what was going on and before I could resist I was shackled by two big, white men. I was still in a daze from being awoken in the middle of the night, so I had no idea what was going on. I can only remember being thrown into a huge, dark, open space at the very bottom of a ship with more than 00 other men, women, and children. I was scared for my life. I hadn't been on a boat before; I had only seen them on the coast. I got very sick and Closter phobic standing there with people I didn't know. Women were crying, babies and children screamed. No one had any idea of why this was happening or where we were being taken. We all had thoughts in our minds of the stories we heard of slavery, but none wanted to face the reality that it was actually happening to us. I learned later that we were a part of the 'Atlantic Slave Trade;' the buying and selling of Africans for work in the Americas. I was part of the estimated .5 million Africans that were transported from their homes to become slaves until the trade ended in 1870.

The triangular trade was the trade between Africa, the Americas, and Europe. Slaves, ivory and other goods were brought to the Americas on large vessels. From the Americas; gold, silver, cotton, tobacco, sugar, molasses, and rum were brought to Europe. In exchange for slaves, sometimes the Europeans would give Africa cloth for clothing and weapons such as guns or cannons. Many other manufactured goods were transported throughout this trade route, too many to account for and name. The Middle Passage was the leg of the slave triangle that brought the human cargo from West Africa to North America, South America, and the Caribbean. All I knew was I was a part of this trade, as if I meant nothing to the people who bought and sold me. As if I was an animal or piece of clothing. I was treated so badly in the Middle Passage sometimes I wished I were an animal. Maybe then I wouldn't get such treatment. We had buckets to do our business in, maybe six for the hundred that were in the ship. The smell was too much to bear. We were given close to no food. I had been hungry before, my family didn't have much money, but never in my life did I feel this much pain from starvation. The most awful site about the voyage through the Middle Passage was the deaths. We were locked in the belly of the ship, chained together like animals throughout the long voyage from Africa to unknown destinations. The average voyage took from five to twelve weeks. Millions died from the awful conditions in the bowels of the filthy slave galleys. All suffering as they died. I'd wish myself to die at times, thinking it was the best thing for me. This suffering was too much to handle for many; death was their only option. Diseases spread all through the ship. I was lucky enough to avoid the worst of it. However, as many died, no one cleared the bodies away. The dead were left to rot in front of our eyes. It wasn't rare to find a living person chained together to a dead body, it was horrific and traumatizing to all who witnessed this. I prayed to the Lord that it would all end soon. Yet, I wondered what was in store for me. If this was how they treated us now, what would become of us when we got to our destination? I could have never guessed.

Despite the miserable conditions, inadequate space and food, deadly diseases, and the violence we received from the crewmembers of the ship, millions of African captives survived, demonstrating their strength and implacable will. I myself was sold to a widely known plantation owner and his wife, along with 50 other of my people. They already had over 100 slaves on their cotton plantation, but business was booming and they needed much more labor. For my social class, I was educated well. Many didn't know how to read or write. I had the basic learning abilities. I could talk in complete sentences and write letters or read simple articles, so I understood when the white man called us names and talked about how uneducated and stupid we all were. I wanted badly to speak up and let them know I wasn't dumb, but I was too afraid. The Adam's plantation was huge. The house must have had 1,000 rooms. I had never seen anything of this sort in my eighteen years of living. I was strong and young so I was told to do many of the hard labor jobs. Some mornings, I was so weak that I could barely walk. We were forced to sleep on the hard, wooden floors of the old farmhouse. We were given scraps for food. Many of the slaves went through the garbage of the family to find more food. They were beaten if found. I didn't receive many beatings. Once I was carrying the groceries from town into the house. I was on the plantation for many months before I had the luxury of seeing the inside of the mansion. I never again was never again able to witness the beauty, for I made eye contact and smiled at the plantation owner's young wife. He immediately grabbed me be the arm, making me drop the bags and beat me as I'd never been beaten before. Right there in front of the misses. He told me I was to never look at any white folk in the eyes again. He told me that I was nothing, that I wasn't a person. After he whipped me, I was brought to the side of the house by his two sons and beaten again. I wasn't able to walk for weeks. I had to hide so I wouldn't be beaten again for not working. I will never forget that, and I was never touched by a white man again. I made sure I did was I was told and kept my head down.

I was complimented by the other women slaves and told that I was a handsome man. I had never had a companion to love. When I began to watch the mistress in the garden, I felt things I never had before. I was 0 that year. I remember celebrating my man hood one summer night. A couple guys stole liquor from the master's bar. The bottle of liquor tasted revolting to me, but I made me feel good, so I continued to drink the entire bottle on my own. I had never drunk before. And after that night, never again. I woke up feeling the worst I had felt since my beating. That taught me to stay away from alcohol, just as the beating taught me to respect the whites. I learned the mistress' name late that year. May Adams. She was the most beautiful white woman I had ever seen, and much younger than the master. She was his fifth wife, and was not very happy. I was hauling barrels filled with water the first time we spoke. She said hello to me. I didn't acknowledge her, I was very afraid. I didn't want the master or his sons to see me with her. I did the only thing I could do; run. I avoided her the next weeks. She found me in the tomato patch one early evening. She told me to meet her behind the barn after the lights were turned out. I did what I was told. When I got there, she was wearing her nightgown. The moon shone on her and made her look like and angel. I was confused, for I never had been paid this much attention to by a white person. She immediately pulled me close to her and put her lips on mine. I was terrified. I pushed her away, into the side of the barn. She looked at me as if I had put a knife through her heart. She began to cry. I didn't know what to do. I put my arms around her and tried to comfort her. She wouldn't stop crying, her cries became loud. She was mumbling words, saying no one loved her, that she was ugly. I tried to soothe her, until I heard men calling her name. I ran to hide. I watched from the woods as they found her and brought her into the house. We never spoke again.

As time went on, it was painful to force myself back into the agonizing past. I will never forget what happened to me and my people. We were tortured and beaten, treated worse than animals. I've seen the worst that man can do to man. I've seen true hatred. And as I look ahead to the years beyond my life, I see much more hate and pain suffered by those whose family went through the slave trade. I see those searching for relief, only to find the same things in different forms happening in the present, in America, the richest country in the world. Hurt is felt, suffering occurs, racism and ignorance is directed towards those different from you. Slavery brought all this and more to our future. It ruined our destiny to have a perfect world, be a perfect country. Greed, the need to be better than someone else, it will occur in years to come. Slavery will never be erased or forgotten. The lives lost and the suffering of our ancestors will forever be a part of us and will shape our lives to make us who we are. Nothing will ever change that; nothing will ever make it better.

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