Caged Bird Screaming

Yulana

Sweat fell from her brow and her hands were sore as she scrubbed the clothes in the water. She wiped some perspiration from her forehead with her arm and stopped for a moment.

She closed her eyes and remembered when she was young with rich dark skin and black curly hair that fell across her back. Her husband would say it was blacker than night as he’d stroke it tenderly. She missed him so much. She missed the way he’d wrap his arms around her and tell her how beautiful she was. She longed to hear his voice. She yearned for his touch.

She shook her head and resumed her work again. What use was there in thinking of him? He was gone. She finished washing the clothes and hung them on the line to dry before going back to her other chores. She had never been good at field work and had scars on her back to prove it. One of the slaves told her it was her destiny to be a house slave. How right he had been.

As she walked across the hallway, Yulana stopped in front of the mirror to catch a quick glimpse of her face. She was now old with saggy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She ran her hand across her face. It was a worn out canvas.  It was once fine and smooth; unblemished, not a wrinkle in sight. Now it was lifeless and seemed to weigh her down.

She had been lying to herself thinking she still looked young and beautiful. She smiled bitterly. Her beauty was gone. She had changed. Her body was beginning to waste away, ready to make its last journey into the depths of the earth. Maybe she’d find some peace there.

Yulana walked away, her heart heavy as stone. She left the house after cooking the family’s supper and made her way to her small hut.

She sat on the front porch overlooking the plantation. The field slaves were still working harvesting the cotton. She moved inside to get some reeds and then went back to sit at the front porch.

As she began weaving the basket, she subconsciously began singing. “Hush my darling for I am here.  Why do you cry? Mama is here. Come running into my arms. I’ll keep you warm. I’ll protect you little one. Come here my little darling, come running into mama’s arm. Snuggle close to my breasts and I’ll keep you warm..”

As she sang, she began to sob. Yulana could still see him running across the field with a large grin on his face; his brown eyes wide and sparkling. She could still remember how she’d pick him up and throw her arms around him laughing. He was her little boy. He was her prince.

He’d walk alongside her in the house, never leaving her side. He was curious about everything, but never dared to touch things in the house unless he wanted a whipping from the mistress. He was her world. He was her everything.

Then George sold him; he took her little boy away from her. Three weeks later, her beloved husband was taken away. He was sold off to a merchant.

Yulana pursed her lips together. She had been a faithful servant serving her masters whole heartedly and what was her reward? Seeing her family torn from her? She lived and breathed to be free. She hungered for freedom. She could just taste it. Every day she knew she was getting closer and closer to obtaining the freedom she had always dreamed of.

Yulana at times felt like an animal; like a nobody; like a breeding machine. She had other husbands after that, all chosen by George in order to bear more slaves to work on the plantation. Yulana’s eyes narrowed with contempt. Who did he think he was? She was older than him for all she cared. She was old enough to be his mother and yet he treated her like a machine. Just like his father before him, he treated her like a caged animal. She was nothing but a slave.

She had grown up in the jungles of Africa running wild and free amongst the creatures abiding there. She had felt the breeze run through her hair like the cool water refreshing her soul. She was free. She could feel the earth smiling at her with love and grace.