CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Boy, you’ll learn one day to keep your mouth shut,” muttered the old woman washing the shreds of skin and blood left on his back.
“We’re not animals,” he whispered through the pain.
“We are to them. Ain’t nothin’ for us to do about it. I was born here as a slave, I ‘spect I’ll die here as a slave.”
Grover hissed in pain as she hit a particularly raw spot on his back. This was the third time in as many months that he’d received lashes for his ‘backtalking.’
“Don’t you want to fight?” he asked. “Don’t you want something more for yourself and for your children?”
“Course I do,” she laughed. “Don’t mean I’m gonna get it. All you gotta do is keep your mouth shut, do your job, and you’ll get food and a decent shelter.”
“Decent? These shacks aren’t fit for dogs. In fact, the dogs get better shelter than we do. This isn’t for human beings.”
“Boy, you sure know how to rile someone. You might be book smart, but you ain’t got the common-sense God gave you,” she chuckled.
“Common sense? It’s about decency and rights. That devil,” he started.
“You best shush, boy,” she said, shoving his shoulder down.
“He got ears everywhere. All these others ain’t as mad as you.
They get favors from him. Some of them girls, they give him what he wants when he wants it, and they get warm clothes, extra treats, all sortsa favors.
Even some of the men. They get to do the easy jobs. Watch your mouth.”
“I just want to go home,” he sniffed.
“I know, I know you do, boy,” she said, comforting him. “I’m almost done here. Let me put summa my healin’ salve on this, and I’ll wrap you up. Boss is gonna ‘spect you to be in the fields on Monday.”
“I know,” he said, stifling the tears.
“It’s alrigh’, baby. Everything is gonna be alrigh’. I come from a long line of women with healin’ powers. And others.”
“Others? You have powers? Are you voodoo?”
“Shush! Don’t say them words out loud, ‘ya hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Honey, listen to me. This is a cruel life for a negro. It don’t matter if you’re from Africa, the Caribbean, Haiti, or anywhere else in the world. They see us all the same. But hear me, baby,” she said, whispering low in his ear. “One day, you will be free.”
“I don’t see how,” he said, slowly rising from the table.
Every move caused him agony and pain. Each breath sent shivers up his spine, making him regret being alive. He knew that he could try to run, but he’d be chased down by the dogs or worse, the boss himself. He seemed to enjoy causing pain to anyone who didn’t comply with his wishes.
“I know it’s hard. Just keep hopin’.”
But Grover didn’t see the reason for hoping.
He didn’t see any rainbows at the end of the trail.
He didn’t see anything changing his circumstances.
He was smart. Too smart, at least according to the boss.
He’d read more books than most white men his age and had knowledge of things that others did not. He’d seen things others had not.
None of it mattered. It actually played against him. Every night, he prayed that someone would try to find him. Perhaps his parents would send someone to search for him. Perhaps one of their many contacts in Europe or the Caribbean.
All he could do was wait and pray that he’d survive.
Stepping toward the door, he turned to the old woman and nodded his thanks. Slowly, he made his way to the shack he shared with five other single men.
“That boy’s not gonna make it,” said the old man standing beside his wife.
“I know. I see it every night in my dreams. But one day, he’ll change the world for us.”
“How’s he gonna do that? He’ll be dead before you and me,” laughed the old man. He turned from his wife and went to the front porch, hoping to cool off in the evening shade. She just stared at him, then whispered to herself.
“I don’t know. I just know he’s gonna do something amazing.”