Colonization of african americans - Essay Example

I used to have an older brother, but we got separated when he got sold off to a different family. I hope he is well, wherever he is. I haven't seen him in 10 years. When we first came here to Georgia, we were scared because we didn't know what kind of family we'll serve, or if we will yet again be separated. As my Ma and Pa anticipated our expulsion from the South Carolina rice plantation we called home since before I was born (they were just too many of us slaves than they can handle), I can hear them praying for a better owner—people who will not whip us when we make mistakes or if they think we're being lazy.

I remember playing inside the trunk of a big old tree far from the rice plantation, but being careful so that no white people can see me. The clay house we share with another family is hot in the summer, and being a young boy, I want to go out and play. But if they see me, there'd be big trouble for sure. So I found myself a hiding place in a tree. Ma always told me actions have consequences, and if I'm not careful, then she couldn't shield me from the eyes of our owner. Consequences means whipping and no food rations—especially if we caught our master's attention when he was drunk.

That's asking for big trouble. The fusion of bad disposition alcohol would mean at least 10 whips. So, Ma and Pa were both happy and scared we were about to be resold or "imported" as they call it—happy to be leaving our cruel master, but scared to be sold to a more cruel owner. While we were being auctioned off in cuffs, after my brother was bought by a different man, the three of us gave an inaudible sigh of relief when we were purchased by one man. He looks stern but fair, although we dared not look into his eyes, afraid he might think we're insolent and get off on a bad start.

It turns out he was a general who just invested in a small cotton plantation and only needs more than a dozen hands to work the fields for starters. Our new home in Georgia was more livable. We were given our own hut and it even had a small fireplace! Although we miss our fellow slaves we left behind or were sold to others—especially my brother—life was starting to look good. Our assimilation into the Georgia life was smooth. The general bought two other families—parents who can still work hard who had sons who were young, but ready to work.

Unlike in our old life, we were given enough food to eat and allowed us not to work on Sundays, except during harvest season when we had to work 16 to 18 hours a day. Missus and master treated us like people, where before we were treated almost like animals. As long as we work hard and are honest, we didn't go hungry. They gave us a fair share for our daily cotton weight. Although we were used to having to work with a lot of slaves, here, we became like a close-knit family because slave owners in Georgia are not as many.

Most of the people disapproved slavery, and maybe this is why our masters were good to us. Because there were so few of us in our community, segregation—although not a law—was apparent. It was like a hidden code. When you see whites on the road, you automatically give way. It's my birthday today, and we celebrate it by making a bonfire and roasting the extra meat given to me for this special day. Before we came here, we never got to celebrate birthdays. Anyway, because it's my birthday, I wonder where I really came from and