Mind Of A Slave

"... And Amos..."

8.

When I get back to the cabin, I eat a fraction of my cornmeal and then I go outside to have a drink from the well. It is a scorching day and no matter how much I drink, I never seem to have enough water inside me.

I am about to enter the cabin again when Noah arrives on his horse.

"Out to the fields!" he barks. "Hurry!"

I have enough time to run into my cabin to grab my head-wrap before I am hoarded up towards the house with a large group of slave women.

I spot Agnes among us, carrying sacks for the harvested cotton. Her eyes are still red and puffy.

We are instructed to pick the cotton if the bolls are ripened. Its spine breaking work, and under the glaring sun, I feel tired after only a few minutes.

Sweat sticks my shirt to my stomach like glue.

It's late in the evening by the time I've finally filled my bag. My exhausted, clammy fingers fumble with the fabric until I've tied a knot at the top of the sack.

I haul it through the field where there are two men loading the cotton onto a wagon. I drop my sack in a pile next to one of the slaves.

I see Noah galloping along the rows of working women, ordering them to pack their sacks to the brim before they leave.

I start to walk back, but pause at the edge of the field. I look up at the sky and see beautiful colours- pinks and blues and oranges- swirled together to form a magnificent sunset that casts a golden light over the field, so that from where I'm standing, the cotton plants are just visible below a hazy golden mist.

It looks magical and I suddenly feel my spirits soaring. And a thought floats into my mind.

Maybe we won't win. I don't know much about this war, but I have heard that the Union is stronger. Maybe they will win and we will lose.

Maybe slavery will be abolished soon, and then maybe Mama and I will be free.

I am startled to see Amos leaning casually against the wooden slats of my cabin. He chews on the stalk of a cotton plant.

"What are you doing?" I ask. I notice his face, which is just as swollen as it was before. "What happened?"

He slides the plant stem between his lips, and then blows it out into the air. It lands a few feet away from us.

He doesn't respond to my question, but starts to walk, and I follow him.

He leads me into the woods. I glance at my surroundings, relieved to see that Julia isn't present. We continue to walk until we reach the pond. He sits down on the highest part of the bank, and I settle myself beside him, dangling my feet in the water.

"You know, maybe you're right," he says after a long period of silence. "Maybe you're right bout who I am. Why, after that day in the town, Noah hit me for what I did. He struck me 'gain an' 'gain." He touches his face with his fingertips. "And while he were smackin' me he were sayin' how awful and violent and difficult I is, and how Master Ramier don't beat me often enough. How Master Ramier is too kind. How Master Ramier gotta get Noah to do it for him an' how he never does nothin' at all. How Master Ramier don't understand. An' it made me think bout all the different slave-holders in Louisiana, and I thinks how maybe Master Ramier ain't that bad."

I look at his reflection in the water and try not to let his face bother me too much. Hopefully it will teach him to keep his mouth shut. To smother the temptation to strike back. "He ain't bad," I say, "He ain't unbearable."