CHAPTER TWO:
DECEMBER 1831
Bein' born a slave is like bein' born intur a world where there ain't no bright daylight. Ev'rything either dusk or dark, but nothin' clear an' bright an' joyous, like a noon in springtime. Just like in the dusk, what li'l sunlight there is, you 'preciate, an', jus' like in the deep night, you wish for light. But wasn't ever no bright, sunny days, honey. No, never none of them. Not if you a slave. Seem like there was always shadows chasin' you if you was a slave.
These folks in Clayton County, all they know is Ole Dilcey what live out on Tara. Dilcey, that half Injun woman what was Mist' John Wilkes' head woman over on Twelve Oaks (when there was such a place), an' what was Mist' Gerald O'Hara's maid at Tara back when Ellen O'Hara still moved around in her softly swayin' hoops prayin' for the Damned and healin' the sick like the good woman she was. Dilcey, who was ole Pork's wife, Prissy's mammy an' what picked cotton with the famous Scarlett O'Hara durin' her days of poverty; that's all these young folks know. But there was a life I had befoe I come to Georgia. I bare witness to it now, while I still got breath in my body to tell the story...
My firs' mem'ry of the known world was the year when I turnt six. I remember a lot 'bout them times. Just 'cause I'm ole now doan mean I done forgot it. Firs' mem'ries always stay with you, same as lookin' in the mirror for the firs' time an' recognizin' yo'self. If that ever leave you, watch out! Death ain't long 'foe it comes for you.
I was born in Northumberland County, North Cahlina on July 4th, 1825 at Springbrook, the plantation of Reverent Jeremiah an' Miz Prudence Wakefield. I thanked God all my life for that day, not just for life itself, but also 'cause at least I knew 'xactly the day of my birth, which was moe than could be said for mos' slaves. When you wasn't considered real folks, all what was important was the year, that way white folks theyselves could keep up just in case you had to be sole. On a good sized place, it might be wrote in the big plantation book, but mos' slaves where I was from wasn't on a big place. Mama never knew how ole to the day she was, nor my pa. Of course, Pa was a Injun an' thought the whole birthday thing was just white folks' vanity, anyhow.
"It doan matter how ole you are." He yuster say to my mama. "All what count is how good you are."
Funny he would say somethin' like that. The way Pa raised hell all the short days of his life. But, I reckon the state of a person soul an' the state of a person mind is two diffunt things. Lord knows I cain't judge him. I done raised my share of hell, too.
My papa was called Apenimon, which, from what I understood by other folks what got Cherokee blood, meant somethin' or 'nother like: "He who is worthy of trust". Mama yuster call him "Penny", not only for short but also 'cause she say that was all he was worth.
My daddy was a fine man. I look just like him. All my boys favored him real strong, too, 'specially as chiluns. He was way yond over six feet tall, a good few inches taller than my Pork was, with dark brown hair what looked blood red when he stood in front of light. His eyes was deep set an' so keen they almos' looked like a Chinaman's an' his nose was long, then flared out flat at the end like an' ole arrowhead. It made him look uppidy, like he was lookin' down at you with contempt. When he come see us when I was a chile, he always swing me up high an' just kill hisself laughing, singing over an' over: "Adsila! Adsila! Ain't no girl fine as she. An' just like a blossom on a tree she shoal is beautiful to me."
Wasn't never a moe beautiful song sung. I was his only daughter out of all his chiluns. I was his pet.
Mama had foe chiluns by my pa. All of us was born intur slavery even though my pa wasn't. Slavery was based on the condition of the mama. If mama a slave, child a slave, even if pa was free, even if pa was white, didn't matter. Lookin' back on it now, after so many years done come an' gone, it was a sad state of affairs. The sadness of it all start long befoe there was a me, or my brothers. Seems like we was a race of folks just meant to know pain.
It all start with my grandmama, Africa Woman. She say that one night her an' her sisters was sleep when the slavers come intur the village with all kindza guns an' knives an' jest started raisin' pure hell in the place. She say it was moe like an' army 'cause it was dozens an' dozen of 'em, an' trust to have niggers doin' they biddin' right 'longside 'em, chile! Well, the fightin' went all that night, she say. Her brothers was kilt, then her mama. They shot great-granddaddy, The Chief, an' cut off his head. Once ev'rybody see that, they all weep an' wail an' give up, so heartbroke it wuzn't even worth it to go on 'cause he was their leader as was a real good man, Africa Woman say. They burnt down the village so folks wouldna even knew there was one there but for the ashes. Then they chained all the women an' chiluns together in one line an' all the men together in anudden an' marched 'em three days 'til they get to the coast.
They stay three days in what look to Africa Woman to be some kinda castle or fort, an' there was thousands an' thousands of darkies there from all over, all of 'em speaking diffunt tongues an' wearin' diffunt clothes an things. Some blue-black, some dark red, some dirt brown, uddens chocolate-colored, all of 'em weepin' an' wailin', some so heartbroke they get physically sick, some in dumbfounded trance from shock, uddens gone crazy from stress an' grief, and whoever try to fight the slavers get whupped or kilt outright, womens got snatched up by guards an' whisked off to be raped in rooms at gunpoint or swordpoint. All of 'em, a mass of teemin' black pain from a whole part of the world, waitin', wishin' they was dead, anything was better than to get dragged on a ship an' go sailin' off …to Doom.
Wasn't no regard to who you come with once a ship come to fetch you off, she say. Famblies an' friends an' tribes got separated real quick. Africa Woman never saw her sisters again, never found out what happened to them. She say the day they all was to be loaded on the boats, they was together but as the big swell of the crowd moved towards the port the crowds just swallowed them up as if they'd been drowned in an ocean of black flesh. The slavers an' they black pets would come through an' take a hundid, a hundid-fifty at a time, strip 'em down, load 'em up and off!
Africa Woman say she spent the next two months on a ship, lurchin' back an' forth, too hot in the day, too cole at night, laying in her own piss an' shit an vomit for up to three days at a time, listenin' to folks go crazy, listenin' to folks dyin', smellin' folks dyin', one by one all the voices what was heard at the start would die away, either from weariness, heartbreak, sickness or out an' out Death. A few weeks intur it, she say, wasn't much need in talkin' no moe. She say it wasn't nothin' but the Good Spirit what kept her sane. Then ev'ry now an' again, up to the deck for some air an' water, to walk around an' work out what kinks in your body what could be worked out, a bit of food what wasn't much, an' back down to the hole. The dead folks got thoed intur the sea. Africa Woman say some of 'em was just sick, wasn't even dead yet. Jus' thoed over 'cause they was a burden. She say from the deck you could see the sharks circlin' 'round the boat waitin' on the bodies. They were still moe blessed than the strong an' the livin', she say.
They stop at what look to be an island first, with palm trees an' houses with bright-colored walls. They stay there three days. What all folks she knew from the ship get separated, some sole to white folks on that island, then the ones what was the fittest, like her, got sole to what folks then called The States, meanin' North Cahlina an all the uddens, 'cause there, slave traders got a better price for darkies than in the islands. Island darkies got worked a heap harder an' died after a couple years, so I hear.
When Africa Woman get to Cahlina, she say she was 'round 'bout fifteen, which wuzn't long after Gen'ral George Washington smote the English an' all the white folks was free to form America. She worked on two other 'bacco plantations 'fore she ended up in Northampton County where she become property of Judge Isaiah Wakefield an' all his folks.
And ev'rysince then we was Wakefield darkies. Africa Woman met my grandpappy who was part white an' a slave an' they had a heap of chiluns what ended up scattered acrost all of the Wakefields' fambly's plantations. I never knew just how many of 'em there actually was 'cause some died an some was sole long 'foe I was born. My mama, Dolly, was the younges' of all an' a pet to Judge Wakefield's daughter, Miz Prudence. It was on Miz Prudence place where I was born. She carried my ma an' Africa Woman there after Judge Wakefield die and she marry her second cousin, Reverent Jeremiah P. Wakefield.
Mama was pretty, but Africa Woman whurried 'bout her 'cause Mama wasn't smart.
"Yo' granddaddy's folks is too shiftless an' lazy. That's why your ma is like she is." Africa Woman say to me one time when I was a li'l girl. She couldn't rightly stand darkies what was born intur slavery 'specially Gran'pappy's folks. She said they made her sick, made her feel 'shamed 'cause they didn't have pride an' was too stupid to even realize it. "They ain't got no notions in they head an' wount take the time tur think or even learn how. Always beggin' an' dependin' on the white man for scraps, just like dogs an' pigs. They makes awful good niggers. They got just enough white blood in 'em to make 'em usless for anything else!"
That's why when Mama got with Pa, it was a scandal an' poe Africa Woman, she didn't know what to do. Mama yuster run off the place sometime like a lot of young darkies did on Sundays an' go to other plantations. One time, she run across my daddy at a neighborhood place at a barbecue. They eye each other an' go back an' forth for a while, then Mama turnt up pregnant. Wuzn't no real problem with that. Moe niggers, moe money for the Big House. Usually, a marster be glad to hear a pickaninny done got in the motherly way, but not with Mama, honey. No, Lordy.
See, my pa was free an' Injun, with land an' slaves of his own. Oh yes, chile. Injuns owned slaves. Some owned moe than a few, too. I reckon I ought to say it was my Injun grandpappy, Chief Oocheegoombee, what owned the slaves. He own lots an' lots of land in Northumberland County back in the ol' days, so much land that the white folks was jealous of 'em. Back in them days, 'lot like now, folks what wasn't white wasn't s'posed tur have too much or be too proud.
Oocheegoombee was a good man from what I hear, but too soft-hearted. Africa Woman yuster say he was too much spirit an' not enough flesh. He think all he had tur do was be friends with the whites an' they'd leave him be. He was a fool tur think that. Our marster, Reverent John Wakefield, acted all by the by, like he was real smart friends with Ole Chief, althewhile he had it out for him. Ole Chief, he come by the place from time tur time, sit out behind the Big House underthe arbor wid' Reverent an' drink homemade wine on Saturdays. Reverent try to explain to him 'bout Jesus an' the Christian God.
Now, Ole Chief loved an' respected ev'rybody, but, one thing he couldn't rightly stand was to see folks try to cram they views down other folks' th'oats. He respect Reverent good enough, but he he tell him he couldn't accept Jesus 'cause he wasn't raised on it. Plus, he believed it was wrong the way white folks kept niggers, 'specially folks like the Reverent what was s'posed tur be so saved, sanctified and Holy Ghost-filled. Ole Chief, he read The Word for hisself, an' could quote it just as good as any white though he didn't buy intur most of it. He call Reverent a hypocrite one day when he was drunk. Told him that there wuzn't no White Heaven an' Nigger Heaven 'ccording to the Bible, just one Heaven for ev'rybody. He tell Reverent ain't nothin' un-Biblical 'bout ownin' darkies but it something un-Biblical 'bout white folks thinkin' they superior to other folks.
See, Ole Chief yuster free his niggers after a certain 'mount of time. He would buy a nigger, let him or her work off whatever he paid for 'em, then set 'em free. Lord, the white folks didn't like that! But, 'round the time I was born, wasn't much could be done. Oocheegoombee had too much money, an' friends in mighty high places, too.
Oocheegoombee was a mighty man, with twelve strong sons and twenty beautiful daughters they say. Pa was his favorite, and, 'cause of that, Pa grew up spoiled an' a li'l uppidy, too. Not to mention, once he grew up into hisself, Pa was hansome and a downright hoe when it came to the ladies. He flash a smile, show off a li'l of that big red chest of his, an' the womens just melted like butter, honey. He knowed he was good-lookin' an didn't mind laying up with womens of all colors, either. He had darky gals, Injun gals, even white gals after him. Africa Woman told me one time 'bout how one gal, a white woman who was friends with Miz Prudence, even went so far as to kill herself 'cause her pa wouldn't let her marry him.
"She took a notion of romance wid a red man," Africa Woman say. "She saw yo' Pa an' was willin' tur leave her world lock, stock an' barrel to be with him. Her pa told her no, said he'd soon see her dead 'fore he 'low her to marry a savage. She say she agreed, went upstairs to the attic of they house an' hung herself."
"Did he love her?" I ask.
"Naw", say Africa Woman. "Your Pa only love one woman, that was your Ma. Ev'ry other woman he like the way a man like a mistress or a hoe. When ev'rybody find out that white woman die, he jus' keep on like it mean nothin'. Mens can do that, separate lust from feelin's. Mos' womens, we mix the two. That's why your Ma, pretty as she was, never want another man but your Pa."
But, like I say, Pa was a hoe. He had chiluns ev'rywhere, chile; all over the County an' a couple up in Virginia, too. When Africa Woman heard it was he what got Mama intur trouble, Mama say she shake her head an' say:
"Great Spirit, a red rooster from way off done got intur my hen house an' plumb ruined my prized hen!"
Africa Woman liked Pa 'cause he had a good character but she say the reason he an' Mama was so right for each other was 'cause they was both was careless an' stupid. She say Pa was careless an' stupid from too much pride an' arrogance. Pa was a troublemaker an' hellraiser. If a white cross him, he didn't mind doin' whatever tur get even, - even if it mean murder. Him an' his gang of friends would ambush white folks on the road at night, steal they money, beat 'em, an' raise all kindza hell. Pa was on the run all the time. She say Ma was careless an' stupid from puttin' on airs an' not wantin' to learn 'bout the world for what it was. Mama, Africa Woman say, liked to live in fantasy worlds the way rich, spoilt white womens what had too much time on they hands did. Mama was a house nigger an' Miz Prudence's pet. She didn't have tur do anything anybody tole her 'less Miz Prudence herself okay'd it, didn't have tur lift a finger lest the Reverent or Miz Prudence say "Fetch!". 'Cause of that, she was uppidy tur mos' niggers an' none too few whites. Pa saw that spirit in her an' mistook it for pride an' dignity. It was an easy mistake. He mistook those same thangs as pride an' dignity in himself, too.
Pa, he wanted Mama somethin' awful, but Reverent wouldn't never sell her to Pa. Even Ole Oocheegoombee come to inquire for a price but no, no. Reverent, he say race mixin' was evil an' an abomination befoe the Lord an' he knew if Mama an' us chiluns was bought by Pa or Ole Chief we would be taint amount tur free. Reverent woulda died 'fore he let that happen. 'Said it wouldn't be right havin' mongrel Injun/darky halfbreeds runnin' 'round the County thinkin' they was free an' just as good as white.
But there I come, born intur nothin', in the front room of a dirt floor slave cabin when my gran'daddy was a king and my gran'mama was a princess. Yes Lord, here I come, born on a day when white folks had they slaves barbeque for them so they could celebrate bein' free althewhile ownin' niggers same way those same white folks was niggers to the King of England. There I come - Adsila to Pa, Dilsey to everyone else save God - too black-skinned to be Injun, too Injun to be African, an' not enough white to be of a help to myself. Lord, what a mess! Cain't fault nobody, either. God never promise in His word life gonna be easy or fair. All you can do is pray for easiness to come, be fair to other folks when you can, an' pray God bless you althewhile.
And I was a happy chile; sheltered 'cause I was Mistress' pet's daughter, sheltered still moe 'cause ole Africa Woman was there with them large black eyes, watchin' my ev'ry move like a hawk do a mouse. And I was happy 'cause I was a stupid chile with blinders over my eyes like a horse headed to a glue factory. Then, one cold morning come the December after I turnt six, the life - the slave life - began in earnest. The blinders came off. This old world become all to clear to li'l Dilcey.
I yuster carry 'round the basket of keys for Miz Prudence. Every mistress of a plantation had a gal what carried 'round her keys for her. Wherever Miz Prudence go on the place - whether it be tur the kitchens, the smokehouse, the commissary, the quarters, I tag 'long right behind her wid that big wicker basket of keys just a-janglin' in my ears. All I remember well of Miz Prudence is the back of her: light auburn hair in top-knots, wide white collars an' big sleeves. an' tiny pantalettes peekin' from under petticoats an' pinafores. No matter how cole or wet it was, she always wore slippers what tied up 'round her ankles. It was cause of that she stayed sick. Didn't matter, though. Being sickly was the fashion back in them days.
This particular day, though, I remember I was in the front parlor waitin' on Miz Prudence to finish her mornin' toilet when I hear the wheels of a wagon spin up tur the Big House. The fat ole Reverent was rockin' in his chair an' smokin' a pipe when I hear him get up an' walk what sound like towards the edge of the porch.
"Praise God!" I hear Reverent holler with a clap of his hands. "God smote the red bastard down in Justice!"
Then I hear feet scurryin' ontur the porch. Mama shot like a dart down the stairs in the hall, her hand to her th'oat like she was chokin'. Africa Woman an' all the other house darkies follow behind, silent but swift like haints. Then, I 'member my mama screamin' something terrible, then all kindza moans and wailings from other folks, and Judge Wakefield hollarin' 'bout Damnation and God's will. I knew I wuzn't s'posed to be out there 'cause back then chiluns wuzn't s'posed to be nowhere 'til they was called upon, but, when I hear all that noise, something deep down told me to run out ontur that porch. So, I did.
Mama was screamin' in Africa Woman's arms, tears blindin' her eyes such she didn't even see me, all the other house darkies was moanin' and wringin' they hands in sorrow. Mama was in such a state she was kickin' up dust like a buckin' colt. Africa Woman look at me without pity or sorrow, just as blank as a cloudy grey sky. All of the other darkies was either dumb with stupid shock or heavy in grief. Judge Wakefield, he look at me, hollar:
"You! Dilcey! You git on from here an' git in the house! Git in the house 'fore I whips you 'for disobeyin' me!"
But I didn't go.
"Dilcey!" he holler again, but I don't pay him no mind. I look up at an upstairs window an' see Miz Prudence staring down at me, all topknots, ribbons an' leg-o-mutton sleeves. She see me, shake her head, put a hankster to her face, snatch her head away an' disappear intur the house.
I saw the wagon down by the hitchin' post. It never moved but seemt tur rush towards me while everythang 'round it didn't move. Mama was a crazy woman, screamin' an' wailin' only God knew what , fightin' an' strugglin' to get free but Africa Woman's hold was like iron chains. Africa Woman's big black eyes lock into mines like they allus did when she want to speak without sayin' a word. She nod her head to her left towards where the wagon was. I don't remember walkin' down there to it but, some kinda way, I had to have done it. I don't remember feelin' scared or being any other way than what I was, - innocent an' full of questions. I went round to the back, pulled back the sheet...and there was Pa, eyes open, dead, shot clean through the head. Something rushed up out of me. I couldn't feel him 'round me anymore. The sight of him hit me like a punch square in the stomach.
I threw up an' fainted.
That was the first time I got caught by a shadow.