Beyond the Cotton Fields

From the Beginning

The summer Georgia heat of 1858 was enough to make a man mad, especially at noon. On some days, it would seem as if the sun was purposely trying to kill the Georgians. Despite the layered dresses of the white women and the several-pieced suits of the white men, they were all able to enjoy cold drinks on their shaded porches with fans. They could look over the acres of their massive plantations from said porches and bask in their fortune that didn't cost them a drop of sweat.

The summer Georgia heat of 1858 was enough to make a man mad, especially at noon. It was for this reason that a white man would go down to the town center with about $700 in his pocket and purchase a nigger to tend to his fields. In the white mind, a nigger wasn't a man. Not even human. An animal is what he or she was. Nothing but property. How could a nigger be a human? It was an oxymoron. With skin as brown as the earth and hair like wool, nothing about them could be human. An 'injun' was more human than a nigger, but not by much.  While there were those with mindsets that lied on the other side of the spectrum, the majority overpowered. The white individuals who believed differently left and established lives on the outskirts of society, much to the majority's pleasure.

With no change in sight, the niggers of Georgia continued to slave away in the summer heat. This was the same story for the niggers of Alabama, North Carolina, South Carolina, Maryland, Arkansas, Delaware, Virginia, Florida, Kentucky, Texas, Mississippi, Tennessee, Missouri, and Louisiana.

There are many enslaved souls on these plantations, each with a different story from the next. Their stories combined would equal the length of all religious texts combined. One story, in particular, stands out for the fact that one young girl lived, learned, and gained more in less than one year than she had in her previous 17 years in the cotton fields. Like most colored souls of this time, her story had grim beginning. But, unlike most souls, whether they be colored or not, her story becomes brighter than the sun of the summer solstice. 

                                                                                        ~ ~ ~

Lucy stood up out of the bushes of cotton, listening as her back cracked back into place. At 17-years old, she had acquired the rusty joints and cracking bones of a 60-year old farmhand. The constant bending over she has experienced over the past 10 years caused some wear-and-tear to her body that seemed to get worse with each passing day. There seemed to be no relief for her. Every now and again, she may come across some lavender or chamomile and her soreness and pain would dull for a few hours. It was a very small amount of relief, but it was relief nonetheless. Pushing her aches and pains to the back of her mind, she shoved the handful of tangled fibers into the woven basket that sat on her back and continued across the field. 

The sun beat down on her, burning her back through her clothes. Sweat dripped down her face, leaving salty trails cascading to her neck. Some her the sweat trails dried on her neck, leaving behind small salt crystals on her skin. As she stood and shoved another handful of cotton into her basket, she looked at all of the other workers in the field: aging men and women, some with babies strapped to their backs and young children holding onto their clothes. She didn't let her eyes dwell on them for too long, wanting to avoid a lashing from Master Aberling. Usually, he would ride around on horseback in order to keep a closer eyes on his niggers. On those days, his leather strap seemed to be glued in his hand. But, today was an unbearable heat. Even Master Aberling wasn't going to subject himself to being under the blazing sun and sweating more than necessary. Instead, he stood on his shaded porch with a cold glass of water in his hand. 

While she worked, Lucy lifted her head up ever so slightly, looking at the woods that fenced off the plantation from the rest of the world. She was careful to pick cotton as she looked out past the 'never-ending' cotton fields. The last thing she needed was for Master Aberling see her slacking off and let that leather strap dance across her back. She had become good with this multitasking over the years, but nothing was ever guaranteed with the Aberling family. As she placed cotton bunch after cotton bunch into her basket, questions about the world past this plantation filled her mind.

What was it like past those trees?

What, or who, lived on the other side?

What could a nigger do past the trees?

Could a nigger live like the white folk?

What was it like to live a care-free life?

What was it like to truly live?

These were the questions, along with many more, that came to her mind every time she looked out towards the forests. She let those thoughts stay in her mind as she worked, imagining a life where she lived in bliss and didn't have to sweat her life away as her bones wore down. Beyond this plantation and through that forest waited a better life for Lucy. Maybe one where she was free, with a family of her own, loving what the world had to offer. But, for the time being, she would have to continue sweating her youth away, working hard enough to avoid a whipping from Master Aberling. Until the day where she left the plantation and all plantations for good, she would have to resort to her tattered books for an escape to freedom and life. But, unbeknownst to her, freedom and life were right in that forest, simply waiting for her. It was just up to her to get up and retrieve it for herself. The only thing holding her back was fear, but the fear of being stuck on this plantation seemed worse than the fear of death. It would be the fear of staying on the plantation that would drive her into that forest.