African Slavery - An Insight

In American Government with my Freshman Academy, we were given this prompt to blog about. Imagine that you live in Africa and have been captured by a slave trader and are being shipped across the Atlantic. Write a 500-750 word personal narrative on recording what your thoughts and experiences might be along your journey. As I read it, I almost decided to NOT blog along with my students. Then I told myself that I don't care if it's hard, it'll be good for me. I tell myself that sort of thing a lot, and I almost never regret it.

My mother is gone. And my father. I pray they are safe at home. My little brothers and sisters are safe. All except one. I was told to take them to safety when the white men were seen. But the littlest girl, she is only 3, was not with us. I went to look for her, and that is when they got me. I do not know what is happening at home. I only know I am in this empty ship, and cannot see because of the dark. Others are here too, but not many. Only a few of us will suffer.

It has been days now. More and more people have been brought. The food gets less by the day, and sometimes I don't get any because I am so far back in the pack. They have taken all our clothes. That way they fit more of us in. I cannot move. I hurt all over. Men and women crowd around. When no one fit anymore, the white men closed the lid. We don't get out. We can't. Under us, the water rolls, and I can tell that we are now sailing. I do not know where we are going, only that no one ever comes back from wherever it is.

The crowding is less. Not by much, but they throw the dead over the side. Each body gone gives us room. And we don't eat, so there is no more desire to move. But I still hate it. The old woman beside me is dead. The white men have not noticed yet, and she stinks. I will not say anything though. If I draw any attention to myself, I do not know what they will do. Maybe whip me, or worse. I might even be killed if they are in a bad mood. Who knows, maybe that is a better option then this life. I am lucky to be on the top level. I was on the bottom at first, but I snuck up higher a few meals ago (I cannot count days, I rarely see light.) Now I can breathe just a bit more. But we are more likely to be hit for the slightest sound.

Finally we are out. Naked, chained in rows, we sit on the deck. I do not know what will happen now, but it can never be as horrible as what I just left. I would prefer anything to the living hell of that ship. I'll never sail again.