A Day in the Life of a Slave in 1850
Jaileen
Its somewhere between April and May, I can only tell by the weather. Its warmer when they have us working. It’s hard to remember anything living in these conditions; no clean water, no bed, barely food, and occasionally beaten. Winters are unbearable. It’s usually below 30 degrees and we must work efficelty without a coat or any kind of warmth. Getting whipped in the snow is definitely one of the worst pains I’ve ever felt. It comes close to seeing your kids being torn away from your wife and yourself. I don’t know where they are, how are they, if they are happy, if they are slaves I don’t know. It keeps me up at night. Every night. I can imagine their screams as they watch their parent’s get taken. My wife is on the same plantation as me. She makes me clothes after her work is done and I appreciate that. she has bruises on her waist and arms; when I ask her where they came from she simply says from the master pushing her around. But I know he raped her and he will pay. One day I am going to escape with my wife and kill him. I will make sure she is safe and with our kids.
It’s still unbelievable how I was a working father, i was educated (my father’s wife taught me to read and write) I had a house and my whole life flip flopped in a matter of seconds. My father was a slave and managed to run away and start a new life. Somehow his master find out he had a son (who was me) and “legally” owned me because I was his property’s property. It’s ashamed how they treat me here. I’m treated like nothing, like trash. Like I am less than a white man because I’m a colored. Sometimes I began to believe it but I’ve realized once you begin to believe that is the moment you become as low as the whites. I don’t understand why simple because I’m darker I have this harsh treatment. Just yesterday they beta this man because he wasn’t picking cotton fast enough and you were able to see his bone. Pure bone. It’s ridiculous. I have this fantasy that someone will come and save all of the slaves here. I continue to pray to god but it seems as if he can’t hear my prayers. I scream but it seem as no one is willing to listen. I cry but no one is willing to wipe the tears. I try to be strong. For my sake, my wife’s, and everyone else’s who is suffering, but it seems like I can’t help myself.
In my other plantation we were treated like humans. Of course we were beaten and not treated like the ordeal human being. But we had an actual meal to eat and actual blankets to prevent the winter nights from over taking us. His name was Nathaniel. Nathaniel Rivers. He was a nice man. Didn’t really like abusing his slaves he usually only did it to show the slaves you must listen to him. I kind of felt like I loved him. As strange as it seems. He was a nice man. He just did what he had to do. He did mot abuse my wife, in fact he allowed us to be together. We were taken from him but I’m not really sure why. I’m still hoping he is even the one to save us. I always think of him, of how better my living conditions would be. I’m getting old; I’m soon going to become weak. My time is running up here and I know my master here will just kill me. He killed Robert Williams after wrinkles took over his skin and his back began to ache. Rivers would have given me my freedom once I grew a grey hair.
If I ever get out of here I will save slaves. I do everything in my power to reunite families and give blacks their freedom back. I don’t think anyone realize how powerful that word is. To have simple rights like being able to go to the bathroom. The levels of insanitation are ridiculous. We are forced to use the bathroom (a tree) and not have anything to clean ourselves. Many of us die from diseases and infections. Of course the master doesn’t care; he just wants an excuse to get younger efficient workers. Right now at the moment my fingers are bleeding from the amount of work I have to do on a regular day. I’m forced to do a week’s work in one day. I want to give up so bad but I’m going to be strong for my family and the rest of my family. It’s about to be sunrise which means the master is going to rush in aggressively waking us up. I must pretend like I am sleeping before I get beaten. Whoever is reading this can you please make sure my kids lived a wonderful life and weren’t forced to live this kind of lifestyle. And as well my wife. I hope I’ve gotten her out of this hell by the time someone has this in their hand. Until next time.
It’s still unbelievable how I was a working father, i was educated (my father’s wife taught me to read and write) I had a house and my whole life flip flopped in a matter of seconds. My father was a slave and managed to run away and start a new life. Somehow his master find out he had a son (who was me) and “legally” owned me because I was his property’s property. It’s ashamed how they treat me here. I’m treated like nothing, like trash. Like I am less than a white man because I’m a colored. Sometimes I began to believe it but I’ve realized once you begin to believe that is the moment you become as low as the whites. I don’t understand why simple because I’m darker I have this harsh treatment. Just yesterday they beta this man because he wasn’t picking cotton fast enough and you were able to see his bone. Pure bone. It’s ridiculous. I have this fantasy that someone will come and save all of the slaves here. I continue to pray to god but it seems as if he can’t hear my prayers. I scream but it seem as no one is willing to listen. I cry but no one is willing to wipe the tears. I try to be strong. For my sake, my wife’s, and everyone else’s who is suffering, but it seems like I can’t help myself.
In my other plantation we were treated like humans. Of course we were beaten and not treated like the ordeal human being. But we had an actual meal to eat and actual blankets to prevent the winter nights from over taking us. His name was Nathaniel. Nathaniel Rivers. He was a nice man. Didn’t really like abusing his slaves he usually only did it to show the slaves you must listen to him. I kind of felt like I loved him. As strange as it seems. He was a nice man. He just did what he had to do. He did mot abuse my wife, in fact he allowed us to be together. We were taken from him but I’m not really sure why. I’m still hoping he is even the one to save us. I always think of him, of how better my living conditions would be. I’m getting old; I’m soon going to become weak. My time is running up here and I know my master here will just kill me. He killed Robert Williams after wrinkles took over his skin and his back began to ache. Rivers would have given me my freedom once I grew a grey hair.
If I ever get out of here I will save slaves. I do everything in my power to reunite families and give blacks their freedom back. I don’t think anyone realize how powerful that word is. To have simple rights like being able to go to the bathroom. The levels of insanitation are ridiculous. We are forced to use the bathroom (a tree) and not have anything to clean ourselves. Many of us die from diseases and infections. Of course the master doesn’t care; he just wants an excuse to get younger efficient workers. Right now at the moment my fingers are bleeding from the amount of work I have to do on a regular day. I’m forced to do a week’s work in one day. I want to give up so bad but I’m going to be strong for my family and the rest of my family. It’s about to be sunrise which means the master is going to rush in aggressively waking us up. I must pretend like I am sleeping before I get beaten. Whoever is reading this can you please make sure my kids lived a wonderful life and weren’t forced to live this kind of lifestyle. And as well my wife. I hope I’ve gotten her out of this hell by the time someone has this in their hand. Until next time.