1811
“Who did this boy? The woman demanded in Senegalese as she poured water over the young boy’s broken, bleeding skin.
The child hesitated, “John.” The boy replied, wincing as the older woman began to spread a salve over his back. She gritted her teeth as she worked, she could see the child’s struggle as he tried to hold back the tears that stung his eyes. The women started to chant softly waving her hands around wildly, the rhythmic ritualistic words calmed him slightly.
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look her in the eye, “Do not say his name! Not even in private,” she spoke in English this time, “if he hears about it he’ll kill you for sure. We are no better than mules to them, show disrespect like that and you’ll be sold off, or worse, Master, and Mistress aren’t so bad, but Sir. He a whole other story son. He done killed for less.”
The boy blinked back a fresh bout of tears, “Sorry, ‘Sir’ beat me, with da whip.” Mami nodded, “That’s better, rest, I’ll bring some food afta I get my supper chores done.”
The young man glanced at her and saw murder in her eyes as she pulled away. He tried to rise, but the effort only served to bring a fresh river of blood trailing down his ribcage where it spilled onto the dirt floor.
Fearfully Mami watched from the doorway of the slave’s area, waiting for Sir to come back and finish what he’d started. She bit her tongue until she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood, she glanced around to make sure no one would catch her sneaking out of the punishment room.
“Who did this boy? The woman demanded in Senegalese as she poured water over the young boy’s broken, bleeding skin.
The child hesitated, “John.” The boy replied, wincing as the older woman began to spread a salve over his back. She gritted her teeth as she worked, she could see the child’s struggle as he tried to hold back the tears that stung his eyes. The women started to chant softly waving her hands around wildly, the rhythmic ritualistic words calmed him slightly.
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look her in the eye, “Do not say his name! Not even in private,” she spoke in English this time, “if he hears about it he’ll kill you for sure. We are no better than mules to them, show disrespect like that and you’ll be sold off, or worse, Master, and Mistress aren’t so bad, but Sir. He a whole other story son. He done killed for less.”
The boy blinked back a fresh bout of tears, “Sorry, ‘Sir’ beat me, with da whip.” Mami nodded, “That’s better, rest, I’ll bring some food afta I get my supper chores done.”
The young man glanced at her and saw murder in her eyes as she pulled away. He tried to rise, but the effort only served to bring a fresh river of blood trailing down his ribcage where it spilled onto the dirt floor.
Fearfully Mami watched from the doorway of the slave’s area, waiting for Sir to come back and finish what he’d started. She bit her tongue until she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood, she glanced around to make sure no one would catch her sneaking out of the punishment room.
