Freedom Calls

Miss Mary's Demise

The news of Miss Mary's passing spread like wildfire through the plantation. Her family from Georgia arrived, somber and dignified, to lay her to rest. The funeral was a grand affair, with Master Mitchell playing the grieving widower. But barely two days had passed before he brought a new mistress into the house. Victoria was her name, a stunning Spanish woman with a warm smile and a kind demeanor. Her dark, sun-kissed skin sparked whispers among the slaves, who wondered if she had African blood in her veins. The rumors swirled, and Master Mitchell silenced them with a bold declaration: "She may be mixed, but she's my wife, and I'll not have anyone questioning my choices in my own home!"

Zuri watched the scene unfold with a mix of emotions. She knew Master Mitchell's history of fathering children with his slaves, and she couldn't help but think of her own daughters, Ameena and the younger one, Asha. They were growing up, and the questions they asked about their father's identity were becoming harder to answer. 

One day, as Zuri worked in the fields, washing clothes in the scorching sun, Victoria approached her. Her friendly demeanor put Zuri at ease, and they began to chat. 

"Zuri ...can i ask you something?"

"Yes Miss.Victoria."

"Zuri...we are both black women. you can call me Victoria."

Zuri looked at her with a side eye. She was a mixed woman married to a white slave master and was telling her that she could call her by her first name. She thought it was a trick and looked around for the overseer Pedro.

"I am a slave...you are the masters wife...i am to call you Miss."Zuri said looking down at the clothes in the basin.

"I am only here to buy my siblings freedom. They are slaves in South Carolina."

"What is your question Miss. Victoria?"

"Do you have children by Master Mitchell?"

""I told them their father's name is Iman," Zuri said, her voice low and determined. "And one day, he'll come to rescue us from this place."

Victoria's eyes widened, and she nodded sympathetically. 

"I see. Well, I hope that day comes soon, Zuri. You and your children deserve freedom and happiness. Does Master Mitchell have any other children on this plantation?"

"Why do you ask these things Miss Victoria?"

"He wants me to give him a son but i will not have children for him....I need one of the slaves to help me to stop his....ya know."She said clearing her throat.

"Nilda..is a doctor...i can ask her for the medicine...in return i want my children's freedom papers."

"Two freedom papers.."

"Three. I'm carrying a child ...a boy from what the ancestors tell me." Zuri said wringing out her clothes.

"You believe in that African stuff still?"

"Your mama never taught you about yours?"

"She did.."

"Then you know how powerful you could be if you trust in them. Then you know that they are always with you and that's why you shouldn't fear nothing."

"I will get the papers signed for you tonight...please have the medicine to me in the morning."Victoria said walking away. Zuri's heart skipped a beat. Could this new mistress be an ally in their quest for freedom? Only time would tell.

 Zuri shook her head and hung the clothes on a line before walking back to her cabin. She was 7 months pregnant and wished that Iman would find her soon. Ameenah and Asha were playing in the field next to their cabin. Master Mitchell walked up to them and gave them both cubed sugar.

"Ameenah,Asha.....come on now almost time for dinner."Zuri said opening the cabin. As she let the girls in Master Mitchell grabbed her arm.

"You're carrying again gal? You aren't carrying for me ..who is?"

"Solomon master..."

"If its a boy his name will be Charles...Charles Lee Mitchell."He said

"Yes, master," Zuri replied, her voice barely above a whisper, as she obediently entered the cramped cabin. She closed the creaky door behind her, the wooden latch clicking into place like a prison sentence. The dim light within enveloped her, a stark contrast to the vibrant sunsets she once savored in her village.

As she settled onto the worn bed, its straw mattress creaking beneath her, Zuri's hands began to weave a soothing melody on her daughters' backs. Ameena and Asha snuggled deeper into the makeshift bed, their eyes heavy with the weight of their circumstances. Zuri's voice, a gentle breeze on a summer's day, whispered a tale of freedom and hope, a story she had crafted to transport them to a world beyond the shackles of slavery.  As she spoke, her words painted vivid pictures of a life untethered, where children laughed and played under the warmth of a golden sun, their skin unblemished by the cruel hand of oppression. The girls' eyelids fluttered, their breathing slowing, as they succumbed to the lullaby of their mother's imagination. And Zuri, her heart aching with every passing moment, held them close, her love a fierce and unyielding flame that refused to be extinguished by the darkness that surrounded them.