Part 1: We take so many things in life for granted. Our family. Our friends. Our love. No one is innocent of that statement. If you had the chance to redo one moment in your life, what would it be? Think really hard. Make it something you care about. I would have run. With my mother and brother. Things would have been different. We would've all been together, instead of being forced our separate ways. They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. The truth is, you knew exactly what you had, you just never thought you'd lose it. Never in my life had that been more true on that one dreadful day. Never would I thought my whole world would turn upside down when I was just eight years old. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bump anyone?
Part 2: Slavery...a word we all know and regret. What did you just think of when you read that? Did you imagine yourself in the situation of being a slave? Being beaten when you stopped working to catch a breath? And when you fought back, you were killed on the spot? Or did you just spit at the word in disgust? Trying to think of how our ancestors could do this to such innocent people? Slavery had never meant much to me, mostly because I didn't know what it was. But when I was eight years old, I had wished I had never even heard those seven dreadful letters. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Where are we going, mom?" I looked at my mother's dark skin reflecting the beaming sunlight. "It's a surprise, Aamina," she said solemnly. The two light-skinned people were clutching her tightly on either side, making her flinch. My brother and I were being led by a couple light-skinned people, too, but I could tell they weren't gripping us as tightly as my mother. "But I don't like surprises!" my five-year-old brother, Jaraan, squeeled. My mother looked at him sadly, as if she were to break down and cry at any moment. Instead, she spoke softly: "Neither do I son. Neither do I."
Part 3: As we were being led to the surprise, I couldn't help but think that my mother was hiding something from us. She had been acting weird since the light-skinned men came to our home.
Part 3 (continued): We kept walking in silence until we got to the ocean. I had never seen an ocean in my life, and it was incredibly beautiful. The waves crashed against the shore, making a bubbly reaction of some sort. At the dock, I saw a medium-sized ship floating in the foamy water. Was this the surprise my mother had planned for us? I was almost jumping for joy; I had never ridden or seen a ship before! When my brother, mother, and I boarded, my excitement immediately withdrew. What I saw was horrific. Dozens, no, hundreds of African Americans like me were crouching or lying together, with not even an inch between them. Kids were crying and burrowing their heads into their mother's chests. Some men were lying down on the ground, lifeless. Never in my life had I seen such a horrid picture. While lost in thought, I felt myself being pushed forward by the people that were leading us here. Oh, how I wanted to fight back, but by my mother's demeanor, I decided to hold it in. After getting situated in our two-foot little space, I sat there in horror watching all of the other families. A million questions ran through my mind. Why were these light-skinned people doing this to us? What is goin to happen to us? Will I be dead before the sun sets?
Part 4: The kids' cries were interrupted by loud shouting at the other end of the ship. "Everybody shut up!" the voice screamed. I heard a whip crack loudly, and someone screamed. I cupped my hands over my ears in horror, trying to block out the sounds. I looked over to my brother, whose expression made me want to cry. He stared at the other end where the screams and shouts were coming from. He sat there with his blue eyes wide open, gaping at the limp body that was only so many feet away. I grabbed him as he softly sobbed into my chest, closing my eyes and laying my head on his. More whips cracked. More screams. More cries over lost loved ones. This ship was a death trap, and it was about to snap on me. A few hours later, a new man with a whip came in. Behind him, dozens of other men were holding bread. How was only that much bread going to feed all of us? The questions in my mind were interrupted by the men throwing the bread up into the air like we were seagulls, then a wave of slaves were pushing and shoving each other to get a slice. My mother ran up to get a few, and came back several minutes later with four minuscule slices. We all gobbled it down in seconds. "I'm still hungry, mom!" Jaraan squeeled. "There is no more, son," she said sorrowfully. "We can't get anymore." "But mom!" he cried. My mother gave him a look that said 'Please stop talking.' Jaraan continued crying about being starving, and didn't notice when the man with the whip walked up behind him. The man was raising it above his head when I stood up and stopped his toned arm from coming down. "He's only five!" I cried. "Stop it! He's only five!" The man glared at me hatefully as he continued walking around the ship. "You shouldn't have done that," my mother said through gritted teeth. I just sat there in silence, licking my fingers for any remaining crumbs of what little food I had gotten. Several days later... I felt the ship suddenly stop. We had docked. "Where are we?" I asked my mother, whose breathing was now rapid. "America," she breathed out, not even so much as glanced at me. "What's America?" Jaraan asked. She looked Jaraan straight in the eyes and spoke, "A place you will never call home."