This is a narrative I had to write for my English class, African-American Non-Fiction. It's supposed to be a narrative from the perspective of slave owner recollecting on pre and post-Reconstruction. Tell me what you think.
Well, I reckon myself to be about seventy-five years of age, and my wife she's about seventy-one. I inherited this small plot of farmland from my father, and he from his father. I was never much of one for the slave industry, but some of the youngins I also inherited from my father, so I seen no reason to sell 'em to someone else. My wife and I aren't well off, by no means. We been working hard just to survive all these years and keep ourselves clothed. We treat our slaves as family; hell, we had 'em 'round all these years. We work in the fields side-by-side, laugh with 'em, sing with 'em, dance with 'em. All the neighbors think we's crazy for being openly accepting towards them, but I see no reason to treat 'em bad. They work hard just like us, they hurt just like us, and therefore we treat 'em just like us. My father had an overseer back when I was a boy because he had other business to tend to, but when he found out that man was harming them, he pulled his gun out and told him to leave or get killed.
We take our slaves with us to church every time they come 'round. We give 'em food, and houses, and my wife makes 'em clothes as they need. If they want to go visit family at another place, and the harvest isn't coming, all's they gotta do is ask, and my wife or I'll accompany 'em so no one tries to harm 'em.
Yes sir, I served in the war. Took my best slave with me as well. We served under General Bragg at the attack on Fort Rosecrans. I was injured by a yank; a ball to the leg. Unfortunately, I lost my slave. I don’t know if he was killed or if the yanks took him, but I ain’t seen him since.
Like I said, we didn’t care much for slavery, but for us, all of us, to survive, we had to keep ‘em. None of our slaves ever tried to escape, though. We never had more than five or eight slaves at one time. We learned our slaves as best we could. Neither my wife or I had much schooling when we was young, but we taught ‘em how to write, and a little how to read. When ministers come ‘round, we let ‘em preach to the slaves and if they wanted to stay for a few days and teach the slaves some, we let ‘em.
When the decree came from Mr. Lincoln that all slaves was free to leave and do as they please, we were saddened somewhat. We told ‘em all they could go if they chose so, that they no longer belonged to us, not that they ever felt like they did. About half of ‘em decided to head north, what with all the prospects for newly freed slaves. We sent ‘em off with clothes and a portion of ham, biscuits, and salt. They told us they’d come back someday and let us know what they done, but those that left never came back. Afterwards, my wife and I had to sell some of the land because we couldn’t work it and needed the money. The few workers we had left lived with us until they married out or died. Now it’s just me and my wife living here and working the field, but we’re gettin’ old, we’re gettin’ old.
-------------------- channel your inner Larry David
Edited by demius (09/05/06 08:37 AM)
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