The Scars that Carry Us Through

July 12th 1862. It wasn’t even 9am and Emeline was already worn out from her work in the kitchen. She had been peeling potatoes all morning. Her back was sore, and her hands were raw and starting to cramp. She dropped the peeling knife into the bowl of peeled potatoes and stepped out onto the porch off of the kitchen to get some air. The outside air did not provide much relief from the humidity in the kitchen. The air outside was a smoldering dry heat. She dipped her hands into a nearby water pail and patted her face and neck with her wet hands. The water was warm from sitting in the sun all morning, but it felt better than the salty sweat that was dripping from her face. She looked out over into the fields and watched as the blackened bodies glistening with sweat bobbed up and down between the cotton bushes. She noticed that the white overseer was not perched on top of his horse watching over the workers as usual, but instead it was a handsome young slave boy in his absence. The boy’s name was James Garner and he was fairly new to the plantation, so it was a curious thing that he’d already be trusted to oversee when a white overseer was not available. The other slaves seemed to respect the young boy’s presence just as if he were the white overseer and continued to work hard and fast. They moved systematically up and down each row picking cotton off the pointed bushes until their fingers bleed. She heard the faint sound of ole Booker Matthew’s wife Grace singing from deep in the field. Grace was a little younger than Booker, but she was still pretty old to be picking cotton in Emeline opinion. “It's me, it's me, it's me O Lord standin' in the need of prayer. Yes, it’s me, it’s me, it’s me O’Lord standin in the need of prayer,” Grace sang. Emeline closed her eyes and began to hum the tune. She swayed back and forth as she began to sing along with Grace. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me O’Lord,” she sang. “Emeline run down to the meat house and git me some of dat salted pork,” Millie yelled from the kitchen. Millie was a new addition to the plantation. She was purchased to replace Daisy when she became ill. Millie was in her early twenties, and she had skin the color of coffee with extra cream, which was just light enough to be considered house slave material. She had a tiny waist, and a very full bosom and a large backside. She kept her bushy light brown hair in two plaits that she kept tucked under her head wrap. Her striking grayish green eyes were a definite indication that she too had some white blood mixed with her African blood. Her face was chiseled and masculine, but she was pretty in an androgynous sort of way. She was stern and authoritative in her speech, and she treated Emeline like an annoying child that was always in her way. “You anit nothin but a spoiled little house bitch,” Millie yelled at Emeline when she realized just how much Emeline didn’t know how to do in the house. “Just plain useless,” Millie said. Millie assigned Emeline to do all of the more arduous tasks around the house like emptying the commodes and toting water from the spring throughout the day. Emeline huffed as she grabbed the key off the hook and made her way across the yard still humming the tune of the song. The smokehouse was at the far end of the yard near the slave quarters. As Emeline approached the quarters, she pondered life in the ten small cabins that lined the dirt trail that led to the fields. Most of the cabins were not big enough for one but housed multiple slaves in it. She tried not to stare at the slaves working hard in the field as she made her way to the meat house. She unlocked the pad lock on the door and stepped in inside. She was overwhelmed by the musty heat, and overwhelming smell of salted meat when she stepped inside the small wooden shed. She surveyed the meat to find the best piece so that she would not be sent back for a different piece, if it was not to Millie’s liking. Just as she reached for the pork, she noticed something in the back of the shed hanging from the ceiling. Just as she was about to dismiss the object for a recently slaughtered hog it moved. She blinked her eyes so they could adjust to the darkness, and as she focused in on the object, the hairs on the back of her neck rose and her blood ran cold. This was not a hog at all, it was a girl. The girl was completely naked, and her hands were bound by a rope hanging from the meat hook in the ceiling. Emeline’s initial instinct was to run away from such a scene, but she was crippled with shock when the girl looked up at her and she locked eyes with her old friend Lolli. She and Lolli used to play with dolls under the oak tree while Lolli’s mother worked in the kitchen. She had not laid eyes on Lolli since she was sent to the field to work some years ago. “Lolli”, she asked, still hoping that eyes were deceiving her. Lolli had grown up and now had the body of a women, but she still had the same dark chocolate face and pretty features that Emeline remembered. She was exhausted and could hardly speak, and her body was covered in sweat. “Wata please,” Lolli whispered. Emeline dash outside to a nearby water pale and scooped some water into the ladle and ran it in to Lolli. Her heart broke for Lolli as she watched her struggle to get her cracked lips fixed around the ladle to drink. “Who done this to you Lolli,” Emeline demanded as if there was actually something, she could do about it? “Overseer,” Lolli mumbled weakly in between gulps. “Why he do this to you,” Emeline questioned innocently? Lolli’s facial expression quickly changed from anguish to rage. She removed her mouth from the ladle and turned her gaze away from Emeline. The look in her eyes was one of indignation and disgust. It was the same look that Millie had the night she arrived at the Berkley plantation. Emeline remembered that Millie’s dressed was ripped and blood stained and one of her eyes was swollen shut. Chills ran through her body when she contemplated the horror that must have taken place while Millie was in the care of the slave traders. Tears rolled down Emeline’s cheek. “Go,” Lolli demanded softly with exasperation in her tone. Emeline realized that her tears had offended Lolli. The pity she felt for Lolli shamed her in some way. The look in her eyes let Emeline know that she was humiliated by the mere presence of her. It hurt her to see how Lolli was being treated, but she quickly got that Lolli did not share her sentiment and despised that she witnessed her unfortunate situation. Emeline quickly grabbed the meat she came for and dashed out the door. She locked the door behind her and headed back to the big house.