The power of a people reside in
how they tell their stories. For
descendents of slaves, African Americans, we don’t have many written records of
the powerful stories our ancestors. The
voices of those whose blood courses through our veins were effectively silenced
by the system of chattel slavery.
Slavery isn’t even something we as Black people want to talk about; it’s
something we want to place in its own little compartment and reference it when
we’re talking about racism and put it right back the second we start to feel
pangs of inferiority and shame. Yet, there were true tales of survival,
triumph, fortitude, enduring love, and even lust that slaves shared that have
gone untold for centuries. This is one
such story.
E’ry night, I gotta sneak out ‘n
tend to my man. He taint none uh my husband
on paper cuz ole Massa says niggers not ‘posed to get married legal ‘n all like
de white folks but we jumped de broom under de full moon so I says we’s
married. Maw says it too so dats good
‘nuf fo’ me. Adam, dats mu husband’s
name, like in da bible, like de first man dey ever was. Dat ain’t his real
name. His real name is . . . well . . .
I cain’t say it outside ma head cuz it don’t be ‘lowed fo’ slaves to have no
name lessin’ a white person give it to ya.
Adam is big ‘n strong ‘n black as midnight. He stands tall as a tree and his arms be as
big as a canon. His eyes is dark and
sad, you kin see de sadness in ‘em like when he be lookin’ at sumtin that don’t
be dere. He say he be memberin’ his real home, his real kin folk. He’s smart cuz on de boat over here, da
captain learned him to read ‘n write ‘n do figgers but dis here Massa don’t
know nuffin’ bout dat.
Dey call me Margaret on dis here
plantation. When I’s a little girl, I
had anuva name but I don’t reckon what it was no mo’. I jest member dat when I come here to da
McKinley Plantation in Latta, SC, ole Misses say she don’t like da name I come
wit so she change it to Margaret. Sometimes,
‘n my mind, I pretend like I’s Eve ‘n he’s Adam like in da Garden a Edun ‘cepin
Massa say ain’t no niggers in da bible.
I don’t be carin’. Sometimes, I
closes my eyes ‘n sees us runnin’ around all free ‘n happy like. I’s scurred o’ snakes sumtin fierce in real
life so I don’t eat dat dang apple in my mind’s eye, we’s just be free ‘n happy
. . . free ‘n happy.
See, me ‘n Adam was runnin’ fo
freedom when da catcha’s dun snatched us up in some place called Louisville. Folks say we wuz almost to freedom iffin we
wasn’t catched. T’was my fault we got
catched. I had my moon flow ‘n we was in
de woods ‘n I didn’t have no cotton to swab up de blood so we jest walk ‘n walk
‘n walk most de night ‘n durin’ de day we hide.
All de time we wuz walkin’, I was leavin’ a trail for dem ole dogs to
follow. Adam dun tried to carry me but he was too tired from walkin’ all dem
nights. I tole him to leave me be and go
on but he wouldn’t. Dem ole hounds
caught de smell o’ my blood ‘n tracked us ‘n catched us right on up ‘n brought
us back to here to ole Massa.
Massa tell de ova’sea to do
ev’rytin’ to Adam ceptin’ kill ‘em.
Well, he say not to cut him down dere cuz he need him right for breedin’
‘n all cuz Adam is a good bull. He make
good babies for massa to sell fo’ lots of money. I kin’t have no babies cuz my insides t’aint
right after ole Massa dun used a broken bottle on me dere. But I’m a fancy, meanin’ I’s yella cuz my pa
was my ole Massa, so dis here Massa keeps me round for his “musemint” is wut he
be callin’ it. I call it hell. See, Adam don’t love me cause I’m half white,
he love me cuz I got . . . wut he call it . . . a regal air ‘bout me. I taint positive wut dat means fo’ sho’ but
he say dat I be a queen where he from, a real live queen wit a crown ‘n
all.
Massa say not to beat me. I was hopin’ to get da whip cuzin I know da
pain of da beatin’ be ova in a few days.
Wut massa do to me, dat pain don’t neva go way. Dat pain be in my heart, you know, you kin’t
touch it but it be dere, from de sun to da moon ‘n back to da sun one mo’ ‘gain. Massa hurt me down dere. He make sure I know not to run away no mo’ ‘n
he make me do awful things to make me pay.
He say I need to know my place so he tell his sons to do things to me
down dere too. Iffin’ I wuz all de way
white, I could choose who could know me in de bible way. Slave gals don’t have no say in dat.
Adam been down almost 2
weeks. His fever dun broke but he tain’t
ate nuffin’ yet. I be givin’ him tea
with hyssop, nettle, ‘n honey in it fo’ when he get his strength back. Dey’s healin’ roots from in de bible so I
knows dey gotsta work. His wounds got
‘fected real terrible like ‘n I had ta clean ‘em e’ry night after doin’ ma
chores. I knows he gunna be betta, I’s
can feel it in ma bones.
Sometimes, when I look at Adam,
my eyes fill up wit tears and my heart feel like it wanna ‘splode like a fire
cracker. I loves him more dan anythin’
in de whole world. I knows with e’ry bit
o’ my soul dat Adam loves me with e’ry bit o’ his soul too. Massa say niggers ain’t got no souls. He say only white folks got souls but he
crazier dan a loon. Even I know a soul
is what makes you ‘live, a soul be da thing dat makes you sing ‘n dance ‘n jump
around.
God dun answered my prayas. Adam is ‘woke. He’s still weak but da fire be back in his
eyes. Ole Sadie say he pull through cuz
he gots pure African blood in ‘em. Well,
dat ‘n de love of a gud womin. She help
me get fixed up nice an purty for Adam and de ovah slaves done left and let us
be alone in da quarters.
I went to Adam in de night. He weren’t sleep none, he wuz just layin’
dere, eyes open, like he been waitin’ for me.
He say I smell real sweet. I put
some ‘o de missus toilet water straight from Paris France behind my ears. I let my frock fall to da floor and I stood
dere, with nothin’ on but da light from da moon dat wuz lightin up da room, and
showed myself to him. I could see da
covers movin’ down below so I knowed he was happy to see me. I slid under da covers wif ‘im and he was
warm to da touch. He wrapped his arms
‘round me and I felt safe ‘n . . . I felt like a womin is ‘posed ta feel. I put my leg ova his leg and my arms ‘round
his body. His skin was smooooooooth like
a baby. He put his full sof’ lips on
mine ‘n kissed me, real gentle like. It
wuz like he was sayin’ thank you fo’ takin’ gud care ‘o me, not wif words but
wif kisses. My nature dun start ta rise
and my body dun start ta squirmin’ ‘n wigglin’ round like a cat in heat. My lady parts wuz tinglin’ sumpin’ fierce. I neva get dose feelin’s with ole Massa. Sometimes, I wishes dat only Adam knowed me
like a husband knows a wife but, tain’t so.
He started to nurse from me, Adam
did, just like a baby does from his mama.
T’weren’t no milk coming out o’ me tho’, just noises from me that say I
liked it. And when he started ta touch
me in my special place, it felt real good, real good indeed. His fingers went down where da daisies grow
‘n he wuz pettin’ it real soft. Seem
like e’ry time he do dat, I start makin’ sounds I cain’t control. It be like a strange tongue be comin’ out ‘o
me dat I don’t have no have power ovah. I
was like a ripe peach with all ma juices flowin’. ‘N you’se can best b’lieve dat his rod was
stiffer dan all get out. I took him in my hands and stroked him. He liked it, I could tell. His sap started to leakin’ and he was
thrusting his hips.
I didn’t want him to climb on top
‘o me cuz I didn’t want him to get too weak so I had to do all de work. I got on top ‘o him ‘n he filled his hands
with my backside and I joined with him. My,
my, my. We was together, nuffin between
us but love. I put my hands on his chest
‘n started ridin’ him like he was one ‘o Massa’s prime stallions. Our bodies was movin’ together, poundin’ out
a rhythm in time sorta like a drum beatin’ out our song of love. I see’d Adam’s eyes roll back ‘n his head and
I knowed he was ready to spill his seed.
Dere I was, filled up with joy and his manhood, his eyes were locked wit
mine, ‘n he was whispering to me in his real tongue. I don’t be knowin’ wut he be sayin’ when he
talk dat African talk but it sound real nice and I feel de meanin’
somehow. He be sayin’, “Margaret, I’s
gonna love you til de end of time.” I
say it right back too, with my heart.
Copyright 2013 Scottie Lowe
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