Dear Diary,
Today I awoke to the crack of dawn to start working in the cotton fields. I rolled off of the stacks of straw I call a bed, and I immediately tried on my clothes I recieved yesterday as my yearly allowance. They are: two coarse linen shirts, linen trousers, a jacket, stockings, and shoes. I admit, they're not the most comfortable clothes to wear, but I'm grateful anyway. My last shirts and trousers are
extremely worn and have lots of holes in them. Mama could no longer fix them. I outgrew my shoes, so I started going barefoot. This time, the shoes don't even fit me at all. So I guess I'm going barefoot again. I'm really sad, though. I thought finally my feet would be sheltered from painful cuts I recieved from stepping on branches while picking cotton. I rushed through my daily meal of hominy and hoecake (boiled corn and cornbread), because my master was impatient.Dear Diar
y,Mama was really angry at me when she discovered that I've been writing. I was really scared when she looked me in the eye and scolded me not to do such a thing. She wasn't joking at all, she was dead serious. Mama warned me that if our master were to found out, I'd be punished by being whipped or beaten up. Masters believe that slaves should remain stupid. The only thing that we should know is how to obey him, and do whatever he wishes. But I can't just stop writing...it's something I enjoy. But at the same time, I don't want to be in the same situation like one of the carpenters today. While I was picking cotton, I heard my masters whip crack, followed by cries of torture being called out. This kept repeating for a while. It really freightened me, and I started picking faster (despite the backpain and aching bones). If he's being punished for not working how he should be, what else could happen?
Dear Diary,
I savored my breakfast this morning. I got to eat some bacon, cornmeal, and molasses. Mmm. The next time I could eat this would be one day next week. Sometimes, I wish I had a different master. The one I hear great stories about. Sure, he's an average master that treats his slaves badly, but at least he knew to feed them plenty amounts of food to give them tons of energy. They got food like collard greens, 'taters, dried fruits, and LOTS of milk and butter! I was just going to leave, when I noticed one of the cotton pickers just sat there. Puzzled, I asked her why wasn't she coming with the rest of us. She's pretending to be sick, so she can avoid working. I remember of a folktale my parents told me when I was younger. The smaller but sly rabbit always outsmarted the bigger, dumb bear. This is a good example. Now she can relax while the doctors come.
Dear Diary,
Everyday when we work, we're given an hour to eat our dinner. Then we return to hard work. The life of a slave is a nightmare. Each day seems to get worse and worse, and I keep waiting for the day when life will become easy. During dinnertime, this couple got married. Since we can't get married legally, we developed our own way of marrying. Th
e couple would jump over a broomstick. The reason why they got married during dinnertime is because while most of us will soon return to working, they're doing something differnt. They and a bunch of other people will round up and will attempt to run away. For the past few weeks or so, I overheared their plans. They're going North, and are being guided by the North Star. I really hope that they don't get caught. They could be killed!Dear Diary,
I'm heartbrokened. One of my worst fears came true. My master broke up my family by selling my brother to another owner. I never even seen his owner before beacuse he's from another state, I think. We were all holding each other, crying. The goodbyes are really hard. Our family will just be like the others: have to live with the thought of never being reuinited w
ith a loved one. It'll take a mighty miracle for that to happen. One of the little girls that lives in the same log hut I do just had her mother sold off. The little girl isn't even six years old yet. When everyone was going to go to sleep, she came up to me and sat down next to me. Her eyes were full of wonder when she asked me when her mom was coming back. I looked up at her dad. We shared the same actions: absolute silence. Finally, we broke it down to her, and she burst into tears. I started weeping again, too.Dear Diary,
After long
days a week, it's nice to spend the rest of the afternoon and night just having fun. The women and men seperated. All the women gathered to have a quilting bee, while the men enjoyed themselves holding corn-husking parties. I watched as corn flew in the air, and husks dropping. Pretty soon, I picked up a needle and cloth and started sewing. The quilts looked so beautiful when they were finished! After we finished sewing, the men joined us. They made tambourines with cow hides stretched over cheese-boxes, and drums by knocking together saw bones frow cows. They started to play music, and we all danced the night away!Dear Diary,
Today is church day! Our master reads us the Bible, and tells us that we have to be obidient to our masters. Since we don't agree to that, we have our own "invisible church." White people look down upon us worshipping. They say that our enthusiasm lacks real religious thinking. We know when we have reli
gious meetings when we hear people singing "Steal Away to Jesus." Then we end up meeting in slave quarters. For us, the invisible church brings together African roots and American needs. I love learning about how Moses led his people out of slavery in Egypt. It helps us cope with our suffering because we find joy in life. We have hope that life outside the plantation life is a better place, and one day we'll experience that. Once our church is over, the rest of the day is up to us how we spend it. Usually, I just go play games with the other kids, or go with my mom to visit friends. My other brother goes with my dad to hunt.
