Mind Of A Slave

Be Careful

13.

I work in the shade that afternoon, with Hannah and her Mama, separating the cotton from their plants. There are six other women and three young boys.

We sit very near to the house, in a circle on the ground, with a big basket in the middle. The dirt beneath me is damp and soft.

Nobody talks much.

A long time later, I catch sight of a tall woman leaving the house. I squint and notice that she is white. She walks with long, confident strides, her head tilted back.

So that is Master Ramier's wife. She looks elegant and graceful. She looks cruel and manipulative.

She looks at me. I am sure of it. Her eyes narrow, like Julia's do. The corners of her mouth curl.

I stare back at her.

The expression on her face is interesting. Its like she has eaten something sour, but also as if she has seen something disgusting.

Both of us wait.

Then her eyes flick away from mine. She turns and retreats to the house, vanishing through the door she emerged from.

I shiver.

I feel sorry for Julia. It must be awful to have a Mama like her.

And suddenly I remember what my own Mama told me. To meet her by the pond. I still haven't been able to make sense of her words. Why would she want to see me there? What does she need to tell me? And why does it need to be said in private?

We don't leave the fields until the sun has gone down. I walk back to the cabins with Hannah and her parents. We reach her cabin first. I look around for Zahhall. He isn't outside where we left him.

"Where is he?" Hannah mumbles, and I don't answer because I don't know.

Instead, I hold her hand and we walk into the hut. Zahhall is lying on his bed, surrounded by other slave-women. Hannah's mama rushes over to him, saying his name comfortingly, saying soothing words, saying "Zahhall, it's ok. Mama's here."

Zahhall thin face turns toward us when he hears his name.

"Mama," he croaks. "Mama, is I gonna die?"

His mama crouches down beside him. A loud sob bursts from her throat.

"No," she gulps, "No, you're not."

Then she turns to Hannah. "He ain't goin' to die," she says. Hannah nods. I nod, too.

I hope she's right.

"I gotta go," I tell Hannah, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ok," she says in a small voice.

I leave the cabin and walk along the edge of the field. I pass Jack and he smiles at me. I smile back but I don't stop to talk. I'm not in the mood for conversation. There are barely any slaves left working in the fields. Most are gathering vegetables outside their cabins or washing their clothes.

When I arrive at my own cabin, there are still people bustling around, clanging pans and scuffling along the dirt floor. I eat some vegetables and pork and a slice of stale bread. Then I lie down on my bed, as if prepared to sleep, but I keep my eyes open.

I wait impatiently for everyone to go to bed. Then I wait for another half hour to make sure that no one is still awake. I get up and walk to the door, feeling smothered by the darkness. I open it a crack. The cool air hits me immediately. I slip outside and begin to walk in the direction of the woods.