Name:   Meadow                                                               March 2017 Humanities                                               Africans in NY: Creative Narrative Assignment

Wishing Stars

By Meadow

I was young and foolish, but I didn’t kill nobody. I was taken from West Africa and I was scared of the New World. Being taken from your family as tears fill their eyes is something you can’t forget. I was living in Sierra Leone with my mother, sister and brother when the ships came. Weapons and Cloth were coming from England. Then they came for us. I had heard stories about men and women being sold in exchange for goods. I didn’t realize how violent it would be. My family was hiding and I tried to protect them, but it was no use. They had weapons that would blow me to pieces instantly. I was dragged through the mud down to the English slave post at Sherbro. So many people were lined up, some with tears running down across their scars, others with blood dripping onto their dark skin. I knew no English at that time and I couldn’t understand the other men and women aboard ship. There were children as young as 3 years old in their mother’s arms. Some children were alone with no family for 8 weeks. We were pushed into the underbelly of the ship into darkness. As the waves crashed on the deck and the storm roared you could hear the cries of those young ones. Although I was alone, I trusted that my family would stay strong. They have been through a lot and they can make it through this too. Anger would fill my soul as the memories flew back, but I could never have enough rage in my heart to kill a man. Death is so detrimental to the soul and I know how it hurts. Killing doesn’t change a thing. You think it will make your pain go away but it stays, tucked away in the back of your mind for eternity. I am not scared of death. It will come eventually and no mortal has the power to stop it.   

The creeks of the wooden floor would echo at night making it impossible for me to close your eyes. The stench was horrid. The coughs of others, the cries of babies, the door being blown open by the wind every night reminded me of my own sorrow. My back was against another back, against another back, against another back. I had no way of knowing if they were dead or alive. It was pitch black as my hopes crumbled, I could see they way out of all this suffering as many others did. Every day there would see less and less of us. Screams and splashes of water became normal as we all lost our humanity. There was one particular night where I was contemplating the future. Would I survive in the new world? How much more could my body take of this madness? Should I take the easy escape too? As I lay awake, I suddenly heard men above the deck moving with haste. We were brought out on the ship as a mix of emotions bombarded our minds. The air was cooler, the sun was still rising and we had made it to America. The water glistened as it reflected the blue sky and a light breeze set the scene. I didn’t know how to feel about arriving. I had just spent 8 long, painful, tremendously difficult weeks on a old ship and finally arrived where I could have a new future, but I was captured and torn from my family to be enslaved for who knows how long. I could feel the tension spread across all the hurt faces. Then I saw my father’s face. Dark eyes with so much hope and happiness. He was holding my hands and laughing with me. But then he was gone, he vanished so quickly. I don’t remember how he disappeared. I can remember my mother in tears sobbing as I held my younger sister. There was blood and marks in the dirt. I could still hear distant shouting and screaming. Mother was holding her stomach and saying sorry over and over again. A few months later my mother went into labor and had my baby brother. He would grow up without a father. I didn’t ask any questions because I didn’t know if I really wanted to find out. When I was taken to Sherbro I could hear my mother say something but I couldn’t make out the words. I don’t want them to remember me. I don’t want them to hold on to me. I won’t ever see them again and I have to make peace with that.

My foot pressed against the wooden dock. When I saw all the people with lighter skin and fancy clothing covering their bodies, I almost felt ashamed of how I looked. I was only wearing a piece of fabric wrapped around my lower half. My hands were tied behind my back with some rope. I looked like a bag of bones. I had no dignity left. We were led to the middle of town to be auctioned off. As the children were ripped away from their families, fewer and fewer of us stood standing. A man by the name of Adrian Hooglandt raised his hand. He pointed at me and said his price. Although I didn’t know what my future would be, I could see in his eyes that it was grim. I could tell that he cared nothing for me. He didn’t care if I died or not. I was just another accessory. I was taken to his home which looked like a palace containing a torture chamber. It was a two story, white wooden house with beautiful windows although I would never get a chance to look out of them. I was handed pants that looked as though they had been buried for centuries and a shirt that was only held together by one dying strand. I put them on as Mr. Hooglandt told me the rules that I would be confined to for life. “Do not speak, only listen. Work until I say stop. I should never know you are here. Forget your past, your new name in Robin you hear me? Now go to work!” I nodded and walked down the path to the field. A small, wooden, shack barely standing came into view. Those would be my quarters for the rest of my life, or so I thought. The door creaked as I opened it. There were spiderwebs in every corner. A stained blanket covering the bed frame. My “cabin” was the tool shed. I picked up the hoe on the shelf and left. My feet dragged across the dirt, hitting rocks. Five minutes felt like five hours and it felt like the sun never moved. Sweat dripped down my forehead. My muscles ached. My heart beated faster and faster. My head was banging. The light around me faded. The moon came up and the stars lighted my face. I could hear other slaves walking back to their quarters. I looked back at Mr. Hooglandt’s house and there was still light in the windows. I continued to work as I thought about my family back at Sierra leone. Were they looking up at stars too? Was my dad looking too? My mother used to say when I was a little boy that the stars were so special that if you made wish and picked a star that it would come true some day. And that star that you picked would watch over you and protect you. I waited and waited while staring at the stars but nothing happened. The house was dark now so I slowly forced my feet to take me to my quarter. I lay the hoe down and sat on my bed. I lay my back down and felt the wooden beams dig into my skin. No human should live like this. Would I ever be treated differently? I let my pain and worry fly away as a realised there was no use imagining the impossible. My first day in America was ending. I had made it through the Middle Passage but my adventures weren’t over yet. My eyelids became heavy and my arms relaxed. The last view in my mind were the stars.

There was a loud knock that echoed through the wood. Light poured in as the door opened. A young, beautiful woman with light chocolatey skin and dark hair pulled back into a bun was wearing a red floral dress with a tray in her hands. “Eat your breakfast quickly, we’re off to Elias’s . Come with us,” she said. I only knew a little English at the time so that was very hard to understand. She walked over to me and gave me the food. There was water, some bread, and some porridge thing that looked disgusting. She nodded as I took the wooden stick with a small bowl connected to the end to my mouth. I didn’t expect it to be so warm, but I still swallowed. The taste was different and unique. Like cow milk mixed with wheat. She waited for me to finish. Her smile was so bright that it seemed as though she was already in heaven. Her dark eyes made me feel at home. “By the way, my name is Elizabeth, I work inside the house,” she said with a melodic tone. We stood up and walked outside the cabin. “But master?” I managed out. Slaves were not allowed to leave their quarters without their master’s permission. She looked at me and smiled, “Don’t worry, I am his personal maid. He lets us go to Elias’s house because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be a loyal Christian.” I nodded and kept walking. I didn’t know where we were going but if it was with her, I knew I would be okay. We turned up the road in silence. I looked down at my feet and she must have noticed because she said, “We can get you some shoes when we get there.” I looked at her feet. She was wearing brown short heels that had little laces in the middle. “We’re here,” she said. We entered a small brown house that had two rocking chairs on the front porch. We walked up the attic stairs and came into a room with seven other people. One was at the back in a chair and the other six were sitting on benches. I saw faces that reminded me of my friends back at home. The white man in the back said, “Welcome, what’s your name?” with a French accent. I had to chose weather I was to start a fresh or to bring back my native side. “Robin,” I said. They nodded. A woman gestured to an open seat next to her. As I sat I realised the cross in the center of the table. We listened to Elias’s sermons, then we sang and finally we prayed. We went to Elias’s house every Wednesday and Friday for the next several weeks. Many more people joined. I felt like I had made friends that I could trust. I learned more and more English over the times we went there. It gave me a new sense of who I was and my new identity in America. One night I came back with Elizabeth and it was much later than usual. The moon was high in the sky. As we walked down the path to my cabin, the stars lit up our faces. When we got to my cabin we didn’t stop walking. The light reflected in her eyes. We got down to the field and sat down on the grass. I looked at my feet where I now had cream colored shoes. “Pick a star,” I whispered. She pointed at a one but I was only looking at her. “That one,” she said. “Now make a wish and it will come true.” She thought for a bit and then said, “I wish that I will have freedom someday and the all the suffering will end.” We lay still for a while. I had hope in my heart, but it was shorty crushed as I smelled the smoke.

I remember that smell from when I was a little boy. We were at this ritual of sorts where lumber was placed in a circle pointing to the stars. We all closed our eyes and hummed. We I opened my eyes, there were colors dancing on the logs. Reds and yellows jumping around, swirling up and down. Fumes lifted into the sky and then faded. It was a distinct ashy smell. Then when I realised what was going on I grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and ran to the front of the house. Flames had engulfed the front porch already. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up in horror. The wood turned black and the beams started to fall. I looked at the crowd of slaves. So many angry faces, why didn’t they understand that now they were no better than them. “No, No, STOP!” I shouted but no one heard me. My voice faded as I watched the palace crumble. White men were now rushing to the scene with weapons. Some were trying to put out the fire. Others were fighting back the crowd. So many died right on the spot. Blood ran threw the streets. The crowd fought hard against the whites. I put my hand out to protect Elizabeth. The fight went on for hours. Bodies lay on the floor in piles. The remaining people were taken off to jail. They saw me and Elizabeth standing in shock. They grabbed our arms and put them behind our backs. “But we didn’t do anything!” I shouted. They pulled us apart and tied a rope around our wrists. It reminded me of the journey over. I was not going to have my arms tied again. I tried to rip free, but it was no use. One of them saw me struggling and they swung their club at the back of my knee. I screamed out in pain and fell forward. “Please don’t, please don’t,” I begged. Elizabeth and I were carted off with others to the jail. I looked up at her face and she was looking up to the stars. Her hands came up and she started to pray. As I looked around I saw others joining. I raised my hands and looked to the stars. I needed them to help me, to save me. We were all locked up in jail and they said that there would be hangings in the morning. There were about seventy of us locked up in cells, I held Elizabeth’s hand through the ropes. We slept sitting with our back against the wall. I couldn’t sleep and I looked at her pure, beautiful face. What would I ever do without her, I thought. The floor was cold and my arms ached, but I fell asleep thinking about her dark eyes.

“Get up, get up!” a guard shouted. We were brought to be questioned and identified. They let about thirty slaves back to their homes. I looked over and still saw Elizabeth in the crowd. The forty people left were questioned again. Twenty one were sent to jail. Then there were nineteen people left. We all looked at each other. There were no words needed. We knew what was going to happen. There was no reason in trying to prove to these unreasonable men that we were innocent. We were silent as we walked to the gallows. They took a few away and tied them to a stake. They lit the fires as the white people watched. The screams echoed through the fields as we were forced to watch. The whites cheered as their flesh peeled. The long painful deaths continued. It was unbearable to watch. When the screams faded they led people to the ropes. Elizabeth waited on the side for her fate. She wouldn’t look up. I looked at her shoes. There were blood stains splattered onto the sides. I heard the knock of a stool and I gulped. Then another, and another and another. I looked back at the limp bodies. I walked up to my post but a guard stopped me and brought me to the front. “This is the one that killed Adrian Hooglandt! Doesn’t he deserve to be hanged in chains instead?” He said. The corrupted crowd cheered as I was pushed back to the side. Elizabeth was brought to the front. “Stop, stop! She’s innocent, please!” I yelled but it was barely heard other the cheers of the crowd. She looked into my eyes. She shook her head with fear. Her body started to tremble. The rope was cinched around her neck. She was mouthing the words please over and over again. She reminded me of my mother when we were hiding from the soldiers. Elizabeth wouldn’t look away from me and I wouldn’t look away from her. A tear slid down her cheek as the kick the stool. I coughed and I couldn’t catch my breath. Her lifeless body swung back and forth. I fell to my knees and bellowed. Then I was grabbed by the arm and pulled up. A minister walked to the front before I was tied up. “If you confess now, all charges will dropped and you will be free to go,” He said. I shook my head, “I didn’t do nothing.” He nodded and shifted his feet, then looked into my eyes. “Let him go,” He said. I stood straight as they untied me. How was this even possible? I realised it was the stars. They protected me physically, but not mentally. My heart was broken and could not be repaired. Even as the crowd booed and I was escorted out, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I was defeated and there was no more left of me for them to take. I was deparity at its best. I still had to spend a few more nights at jail in the cold, dark rooms, but I was free. I would live to see the stars once more. When I was let out it was nighttime. I walked behind the house and around the town until I got to my old cabin. My shoes were now worn out and stained. I saw the ruins of the house. All that was left of the windows were shatter pieces of glass. Everything was charcoal black. The smell of burnt wood still shifted through the air. I walked down to the field and into the grass. I slowly sat down on the dirt. My muscles ached and my lungs were weak but I made it down. I saw the stars with their shimmering lights. My tired eyes shut and the only thing I could think about was how I would never see those dark eyes again.