A Slave’s Life

Working in the fields is tough. The smell of tobacco fills the air as I farmed the tobacco. My name is Jackson Peters and I am 16.  I am an African slave and lives with my mother, my father, and my sister. Everyday I work in the plantation fields, from dusk to dawn. I see the same people everyday, and work with the same people everyday but its fine. I would rather see the same people everyday than to be missing a person. I work side by side by best friend, Will. He lives next door from our little cabin. Our cabin was made of wood, and that’s about it. Wood wood wood. Everything wood. Where the windows would be are shutters that close with a block of wood. The silverware, plates, cups everything was made of wood. I take a path to the plantation fields that leads through the forest. The spiraling trees border the path. Not many people take the path since it is so creepy. I probably could try to run away but those dogs would find me in a flash. The walk to the plantation was nice, I got to be alone. The cool breeze runs against skin and ruffles my clothes. I turn the corner and see the master. I duck behind a tree and wait for a minute until he leaves. I don’t want to have any business with him.

As I approach the field, I see my friend Will hard at work hoeing at tobacco.

“Hello,” I say. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No,” he says. “My side still hurts from yesterday.”

Yesterday, after our work time, Will saw an apple on the ground. He picked it up and smelled it to see if it was fresh. The sweet smell of the apple filled his nose. We only have a limited amount of food, so when someone sees free food, they have to take it. When someone sees a good apple on the floor you take it, right? So that’s what Will did except he has the worst luck ever. As he took his first bite of the apple, the slave master saw him eating the apple. He took him by the arm and beat him to near death. Me and Will laugh about it now saying how stupid he was. It really isn’t a funny topic but laughing does help shake it off. As I hoe the tobacco,  I feel a pain in my back. I am used to this pain since I feel it everyday. It is a pain that comes from bending down for fourteen hours, hoeing the tobacco. From the look on Will’s face, I can see he is feeling the same pain. Either that or his side still hurts. Maybe both.  The smell of the tobacco leaf soothes the pain. Many people thinks that tobacco stinks but in fact, it only stinks when it is brewing dried. The smell of the tobacco leaf is quite sweet which helps lighten the mood a bit. Everyone in the fields start singing a song to control the tempo of the hoeing. The faster the singing the faster we hoe, the slower the singing the slower we hoe. If the master comes we sing faster so he thinks we’re working really fast but when he leaves we go back singing slower back to our normal pace.

As I am hoeing the tobacco, I realized that Africans in the colonies leads the economy. We have to hoe tobacco which is their main profit. Even though we weren’t originally from here we still do most of the work for the Americans. I wish I was back home with my family, enjoying ourselves. Maybe if the Americans didn’t enslave us, and we found ourselves here, it wouldn’t be half bad.