My Dear Sister,
We've been here for a week. I am beginning to get used to it here. I am fairly invisible. I just go through the motions. I don't talk to anyone because I can't. I think they think I'm slow. I really don't want to be perceived that way, but there's really nothing I can do.
I liked to spend my time walking around the large plantation. I had never been to a place like this before, and I liked to take it all in. I liked to run my fingers through the tops of growing crops and lie in the grass and look at clouds. I remember when I was very small and we used to live in the inn. There was a park we used to go to, and you once told me that if you used your imagination you could see pictures in the clouds. I never could see them. You always had the better imagination.
Today I took a walk through the cotton fields. There were slaves working in them. They always start working faster when they see me as if I'll punish them or tell on them. I always feel bad for them. I think it's because I've experienced poverty, that I have a certain sympathy for the slaves that other people around Herr just don't seem to have.
Today on the field I saw someone that made me stop. She was a girl around my age wearing a dress similar to the ones Cosette used to wear when she lived with us. The girl had big brown eyes that you could see fear in. I recognized her almost immediately.
She was the girl I saw the day the Africans were being loaded onto the boat. She reached out and touched my arm. "Hello," I say. The girl seems afraid of me. She continued transferring weeds from a pile to a wheelbarrow. "I'm Azelma," I say. I pick up a handful of weeds and put them in the wheelbarrow.
The girl doesn't understand me. "I don't want to be here either," I say. I put in more weeds. The girl doesn't get why I'm helping her. "What's your name?" I say.
The girl doesn't speak French but she seemed to know what I meant. I wish I had . "Keeya," the girl says. She points to her sister. "Natta," she says.
I nod then reach into my dress pocket. I pull out a bread roll from that day's lunch and hand it to her. The girl timidly accepts it, then breaks it in half and gives the bigger half to her sister. "I was saving it until later, but you can have it. You are very skinny and look sick. Maybe I'll come back" I say. Then I run back to the house. Doing the wrong thing never felt so right before.
Tears flowed from my eyes as I ran back. They were warm tears. Warm tears happen when your crying for a bunch of different reasons at once and you don't know why. It rained that night. You once told me that rain was was angels crying. I wonder if you are crying and what for if you are.
Dry your eyes,
Your sister, Azelma