The Day in the Life as a Slave in the 1800's
The movie "Amistad" gives a clear depiction of what being transported throught slave boats actually was like for people who were captured.
Slaves working day and night on the plantations
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Before I came to this damned plantation, I had a normal life, just like those who brought me here. I had children, a home, and most importantly, my dignity. I had hope that the treatment of our people were not as bad as the negro folks in the South claimed they were. I had hoped that the whites themselves were not as bad as everyone, well the negro folks, described them as. But, when you’re dealing with something like this, the little hope that could exist is either destroyed in an instant or almost completely gone from the start. It wasn’t until I came to this plantation that I realized that not one lick of their tales was merely falsified information, or just precautionary tales of what people wanted to believe and not what they actually experienced. When I was forced to be here, I spent most of my time in whatever secluded area in thought of what this labor and hardship as a slave actually meant. I realized that, because my skin was more pigmented, I wasn’t worthy of being considered a man, but more of the white man’s property. And as property, I wasn’t allowed to have the rights of other men, such as having my family by my side. I wasn’t allowed to have a good night’s rest from a hard day’s work like every other free man was allowed to. The amount of respect the whites had for us was minimal; they even named us like pets, not allowing us to identify ourselves by our birth name. Being in captivation with nothing to entertain myself with besides work and singing, I spent most of my time pondering on what this actually is and what occurs while I endure this pain. Yes, the way life is could be considered bad enough, but I will never forget the horrors of being separated from my family. Every day I dread waking up, because my wife and children are not the first people I see. When I wake up, I see my master lashing out on me and the other slaves instead of seeing my beautiful wife and kids, with smiles on their sleepy faces. Although, I do not have my wife and kids’ beauty to give me the strength to keep going, I realized that this was not the worse I had to endure throughout the whole process of becoming a slave. Waking up in my quarters was not as bad as how it was when I was on the boat to this god forsaken place. When I was on the boat, I faced the constant rubbing up against other men on the boat. The worse part was when several men would be carried and thrown overboard, dead from the diseases that lingered in the air. Not only did this boat lack the human needs of personal space, it also lacked any caring people to watch over you. The people on the boat viewed me as “cargo” and not necessarily as living breathing men. It really put a toll on my mental health as I was never able to know when whether or not I would be the next negro man thrown overboard or as my “owners” would like to put it “lost money”. As I think about it hard, I became to recognize that times are even worse than when I was on that boat.
The Misfortune of Jo
After I was taken off the slave ship, I was sold to a kind gentleman that went by the name “Jo”. Jo himself was a great man, he never looked at us as property and we generally had a lasting relationship with each other. Jo was not like the other white folk; this man has a heart and could remember what compassion was. Jo was not strict on enforcing his authority as a master and all of his slaves or as he liked to put it, his “helpers”. It seemed as if Jo could realize that we were us people too and not just some animal or “property” that did whatever it was told, because it was hit with a whip. Speaking of whips, they were one of his lasting qualities; he never lashed us as he said it was “disrespectful to mankind and God”. Jo was one of the rare few of whites. He was kind and compassionate and could see pain. However, in this damned society, that was viewed as “weak”, and Jo paid a huge price for his compassion. Jo was in the end not rewarded for being a human as the whites did not sympathize him. One night as I was working late to finish my job, several white men raided the farm. Instead of terrorizing us, the slaves, they went to Jo’s mansion, and they captured him and his wife. Right in front of the open, they terrorized him. Called him obscene things, and I strictly remember as they hung Jo and his wife them shouting "Since you don't want to be like every other white man and decide to treat these negroes as men, you should be killed like one (lynched how they would kill slaves)" When I was there, witnessing the gruesome death of the man who most certainly did not deserve to be murdered, it took the biggest toll on me. It seemed as if the last man around who genuinely had a heart was gone. It seemed as right there humanity stopped.
The Damnation of the Plantation
After Jo’s demise, his eldest son, Billy took over the plantation. Before, Master Billy came, the plantation was not “damned” or even remotely difficult to live it. It wasn’t until Master Billy came, that it grew to have that name. Day and night, Master Billy forces us to work with minimal breaks. Just yesterday, a man passed out due to heat exhaustion and overload. Master Billy only splashed water on the man and sent him back out to pick cotton. The man went back out to work, and it seemed as if his heart couldn’t take it, causing him to collapse and die. Instead of having sympathy for the man, Master Billy laughed and said “He was weak anyways” and proceeded to force us to turn our heads as two men took the man off to God knows where.
As I am writing this, Billy is hounding over the men still in the field to complete their tasks. Although, Billy is harsh, he has a rule that his father also followed. If we picked at least 500 lbs of cotton, we were free to help out elsewhere on the field. I would go in seclusion and write about Day in the Life of being a slave. And to be truthful, every day I miss my wife and children. I will never forget them and their impact on my life. Not seeing them every day and wondering about their whereabouts daily is hard. Sometimes, I want to give up being here as a slave. But God told me that he has a plan for me, and if I keep pushing, I’ll get to where I need to be. And I plan on seeing what God has in storage for me if Master Billy doesn’t kill me before I have the chance. |