The white man showed us to our shacked house. It was cold, damp, an completely filled with roaches. There were too ratted blanket bundled on the floor. The man pushed my mother and me inside.
I lifted my blanket there was dead roaches, and blood all over it.
"Mine's a no betta," said my mother, "Ifa only I still had me children…"
There dried up tears on her face, begin to crease in between her scars and recalls. I felt bad for poor mother. She lost her children. Least 3 of us are still alive. My mother to our tattered sheets to wash, so all the disease would be washed.
I went outside to watch my mother, she was hurrying, so she could get sleep. She began to hack. "Oha…no…" I heard her mumble. She let out a few more hacks. I began, "Mother let me--," "No!" She shouted, " I'll be-a doin' it. The sun-a is-a setting now, go to sleep."
I walked to my small sleeping space and killed some roaches. I then flew off in a vast sleep.
During the night Qwato's mother came into the shack. She whispered, "Finally these drastic sheets. I'll be a'vin the man on me for the night. But you Qwato," She rubbed Qwato's forehead and covered him with the sheet, "Sweet dreams. May god bless ye in a'vin the greatest sleep of yer life. It could be a last one." Qwato listen to his mother's ever word.
"Wake up you saves! Wake!" The white man screamed. He ringed a large, and loud bell.
They walked into the fields, him and his mother. "Qwato, all I ask is for you to pick the cotton, and put it in the basket."
Qwato did as he was told. He took his large basket, and began to pick. "Och!" Qwato screamed. " Get used ta it!" An old black man said, "Poor child." Blood oozed from Qwato's palm. It ran down his arms. He began to pick again ignoring the pain.
Qwato picked till 9 PM when the sun setted. "Mother, I'm starved!"
"We will be fed when we are fed!"
The white man came into our shacked and through at use 1 piece of bread, a slice of butter, and a half quartered filled, broken bottled fuzzy water. It had a green color to it.
"A banquet!" shouted his mother, "A real feast!"
She split the bread. Qwato remained with a amazed gaze at his mother.