Name: Oni Thornell March 2017
Humanities Africans in NY: Creative Narrative Assignment
“Ms. Mott’s, what bring you?” I question with an uncertainty. I do nothin’ wrong. Why she be here? “ I am sorry Ms. Lucas but I have come to ask a favor”.
“It’s been long time since I seen Africa” I say. Looking ‘round my small apartment I remembered the days of sunshine and running through the fields and tree filled land. The feeling of my bare feet on the rough dirt and rocks. It felt as if I was connected to that land. I would look up at my momma and ask her when I could leave again just so I could run and feel the breeze. It was a part of me takin’ away too soon. I wish I could go back, experience my culture once more, but I am here now. “But I was careless, didn’t realize what freedom and fun I had, I was ignorant to the danger” I sigh. I lift myself off the bed with a sigh and move to the window. Lookin’ outside I see the people of New York walkin’ the streets. Some laughing, running and some just feelin’ tired. I don’t like to be dwellin’ on the past but this was something that was importin’. “ I had been down by the river in between the trees, playin’ and splashin’ with the fish” I say remembering that dreadful day. “ I wasn’t paying attention and the Phantoms caught me by surprise” I say. “ They show no mercy to me, they snatch me up out that river and took me”. “ What were you feeling in that moment” I am asked. “ What do you think I was feelin’ ma’am, I’d been thinkin’ I was gonna die, but I got a worse fate” I say raisin’ my voice. I get ahold of my emotions before I start to cry. I have to be strong, you can’t get through this life with weakness. I have to ground myself in reality so that I don’t get to carried away and sink into a place where once again, I can’t escape.
“They take me and whipped me until I cry and they had no mercy, they want me to run faster they whip me harder,” I say a tear streakin’ down my face. “ We reach the water and the take me and look me in the eyes and they tell me, “‘fight back and you die.’” My floor groans under the weight I put on it. I look up, my tear stained red and wet. “I say nothing I sit there, and I say nothin’, I don’t look at them. I rem-ember thinkin’ they be lookin’ like those ghosts mamma told be about” I tremble out. “That step I took onto that ship I-I wish I could take back, that step brought me into a world of hurt”. The slave market. Ms. Mott looks up from her writing pad a her eyes practically screaming pity. I let myself fall into my armchair. I don’t want her pity “They sail me to Antigua, and the Vessel’s captain take a liking to me. He buys me and brings me here, through the middle passage,” I say with slight resentment. “ I was you and I slept at my mistresses feet… I was… terrified, this was something that I had never experienced, I was terrified..” I trail off. I try to calm myself down, I stand and turn away from Ms Mott. “I was 40 years, I bought my freedom for twenty pounds. I was done feeling controlled. Not long after I married my last husband I paid for his freedom, and we went to Charleston.” I breathe in deeply, “We’d been happy but… he contracted a disease and passed, It be 7 year that we had been in Charleston,” I humorlessly laugh. “That house reminded me to much of my husband… I knew I had friends back here so, I came back”. “I’m sorry… Ms Lucas” Ms. Mott whispers. “ It be 25 years ago, bout’ time I get over it” I say.
I can feel myself slowin’ down and sinking back into the memories that I have tried to keep back. “Ms. Mott may I take a break?” I whisper. “ Of course, take as much time as you need” she sighs.
We be quiet but the silence only speaks the unspoken truth: we must start again. “ Forgive me for that, let me begin again. When I take leave to New York I bring with me a hundred dollars, Which I put into church stock. From that I have received seven dollars every year, and with it I buy my winter firewood” I say. “I was determined and hardworking, I built this house you are standin’ in, right here on Chrystie street, and I thank the lord every day that I have been able to do everything I have ” I say with thankfulness lighting up my voice. “When I first get here the land I was to build on was being filled in. It had been an bowery. The English pushed the family out”. “Ms. Lucas, if you don’t mind, are you an educated woman?” Ms. Mott’s asks. I turn around with a smile upon my face, happy that we have left the dark moments of my life. “ Yes ma’am, I am educated. I learned to read at the Clarkson School, which taught black women” I announce with pride. “It had been quite the adventure but I do thank God every day for the blessings he has laid upon me, and that is my story”.
I enjoyed writing this piece because we could shape a fictional story and feelings of a character based off a person who once lived here.