Heart of a slave

Home sweet home

Now as they journeyed on land at a break-neck pace with Dimitri leading the way on his horse, arriving at his grandmother's estate within a few hours. The household was just about to start dinner and his grandmother welcomed him and fondly introduced him to her friends.

"You are just in time for dinner, my dear, and we'd be delighted to have the pleasure of your company."

Dimitri was tired and would have gladly retired to the guest chambers but he could not decline in the presence of the guests. "Sure, grandmother," he beamed, "I'd be honored to sit with you and these fine people."

Shortly afterward, Dimitri's brother arrived and his grandmother welcomed him in the same modality. She was overjoyed and introduced him to the dinner guests. Their dinner was sumptuous and the conversation was lively. Dimitri glanced at the slaves waiting to serve them. He questioned his grandmother about the slave trade and the management of the estate. Appalled, he nearly choked on his meal when she told him that one of her favorite men in command went into town just days ago and purchased another batch of slaves. The guest beside him offered him water while the conversation continued. His brother, hearing of the improvements at the estate, nodded in approval. He was particularly pleased that more slaves were bought to boost production.

"I intend to go into tobacco cultivation. Also, I understand that there is a lot of profit" said Lady Noelita.

The guests, knowledgeable about market affairs, concurred. "Tobacco, as a commodity, is becoming quite popular in Europe and there is a high demand for it," one of them explained.

"Currently, Dimitri, we own three hundred and twenty slaves," Lady Noelita said gleefully. "Alton is the chief slave patroller. Tomorrow, he will show you around." She stuck her fork in a piece of lamb and looked at her grandson's expression. "You will have a long day ahead of you, tomorrow, so make sure you eat enough and sleep soundly. It's marvelous to see my two grandsons together. I am happy that you came."

"Grandmother," Dimitri observed, "you don't look a day older than when I last saw you."

"I am happy here, Dimitri, and business is doing very well."

"I am sure it is. But I shall have to excuse myself now if you don't mind. The journey to get here was a long and tiring one."

"Oh, yes, I can only imagine. I shall get someone to show you to your quarters and run a bath for you." Lady Noelita signaled to a plump maid-servant in waiting who understood her command.

"Thank you, grandmother, Good evening to all." Dimitri nodded and left the room.

***

He was escorted to his room and soon two maid-servants entered and filled the tub. He didn't bother to look at them. The breath-taking landscape that spread for miles before him, from his bed chamber's window, arrested his attention. Then he heard a gentle voice asking him if he needed anything else. He declined and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the serving cabinet in the room. When he turned, he got a glimpse of her beautiful round buttocks as she left the room. A thought came but was immediately dismissed. He had not been with a woman from the time he left London, which was three months ago. He brushed the thought aside; they were just slaves. Hopefully, he would eventually find someone with whom to have some fun. He had to admit, though, that the sight of this slave appealed to him.

***

Days ago, while helping in the kitchen, Siwhetta heard from one of the servants that Lady Noelita would be leaving her elder grandson in charge of the estate, including the slaves. She sighed. She had been through so much already and didn't want to think of what manner of unpleasantness could occur when more haughty slave traders came to the estate. She heard that he was a young, entrepreneur who was wealthy and had received the finest education in London.

Siwhetta did not care about where he came from or who this rich anticipated master was. All she knew was that she was working extremely hard and didn't need some other vain individual to come and give her commands. She had been so busy hiding from the chief slave patroller, Alton, ever since he purchased her at the auction. She could do without having to hide from anyone else.

She had treated her bruised ankles with an herbal concoction and they were healing swiftly, and her strength was improving. She had not talked much except for those who insisted on having a conversation. Her tasks were to clean on mornings, and in the afternoon, she helped to harvest sugarcane in the field. This was the best part of the day where she could sometimes take a little break to sit until someone would yell at them to get back to work. There were girls younger than she was by a few years. They were fed at one in the afternoon, and at nine in the evening after the household was served. Their fare was generally the remains of breakfast and lunch for the household. Those working in the kitchen may sneak an appetizing treat but, if caught, were punished.

In general, Siwhetta noticed that the workers were undernourished. She assisted whom she could by nursing the sick ones when she was able, to avoid them being put to death for being a burden on the estate. Siwhetta, as a little girl, had learned natural remedies from her mother and used these healing techniques to heal the sick who came to her cabin on evenings for treatment. She was widely known by the slaves as a healer. For many of them, she would apply mixtures to heal welts on their backs.

Only on evenings when she was alone, would she untie her hair, brush, and sometimes braid it. This was the only time that Siwhetta would allow herself to be vulnerable. Sometimes she would stay up all night, crying, but the next morning she would pretend to be strong, keep her chin up and never complain regardless of how tired she was.