the torment of my people

It all began for me in 1755. There was a large-scale introduction of African slave labor in the Caribbean for sugar production and the New World was rising and was in dire need of cheap labor. I was a mere seventeen at the time, experiencing the wonderful feeling of being a teenager. I had heard of our people being forced to get on big ships and sent to the Americas, but I never thought I would come to face it in my lifetime. I had no worries. Until one night, I was asleep and I heard yelling and shots outside. I went out to see what was going on and before I could resist I was shackled by two big, white men. I was still in a daze from being awoken in the middle of the night, so I had no idea what was going on. I can only remember being thrown into a huge, dark, open space at the very bottom of a ship with more than 200 other men, women, and children. I was scared for my life. I hadn’t been on a boat before; I had only seen them on the coast. I got very sick and Closter pho...