The Language We Cry In    by Eva Oliveros

The rain dripped down the edges of the mast staining the sail with little dark smudges. Nestled in the tight little corner of the deck was a young woman trying to rock the tiny little bundle in her arms back to sleep. The cries coming from the little bundle were swallowed in between the crashing waves and the roars of the thunder. The weather had been predicted to be clear and sung and perfect for sailing, but it turned out to be the complete opposite. The boat vigorously rocked back and forth like a little ball inside a pinball machine being pushed by the paddles into wild directions. The bundle was placed in a small little basket for warmth and suddenly a sudden wind tilted the boat over, dumping its contents over sea. Most were plunged deep into the water, but the little woven basket floated and slowly drifted to land.

Nearby a tall African woman was walking towards the water bank to fetch water for her two children, the one securely strapped to her back by a colorful blanket and the one who was playing with the other little children. As she approached the water, she heard a small little whimper that was no louder than the gentle waves crashing into the rocks. Intrigued by the sound, she went in its direction and found a small little basket stuck in vines. As she approached the basket she got a glimpse of a small moving pale hand. Scared as to what she would find, she slowly moved the blanket, revealing a small baby girl, that looked like she was dipped in flour compared to all the babies she had ever seen. Believing the baby was just dirty, she took the baby in her arms and walked towards the riverbank and tried to wipe the white substance off the child but was unable to. Deciding it was no major issue, she took the little bundle back to her home and placed her next to her own child, deciding on that day that she would raise the peculiar child as her own.

As the days and months went by, her attachment grew towards the child despite its abnormality. She was amazed each day how similar and yet so different she was to her. Her daughter also got attached to the child, they soon became inseparable. One day, however, everything changed. More white people started appearing in the land and blacks started disappearing. The woman feared that they would try to take the little girl she got attached to because she resembled the white men, so she would cover her in a brown paint-like substance each day. Fear began to grow within the people that their children or themselves would disappear. And that's what happened to this woman and her two children.

They were chained up and put in crowded ships with little space to breathe, let alone move. It was on that boat that she learned to speak Gullah, also known as the language in which we cry. Many died on the first week but the woman stayed strong along with her daughters. On the third week of the voyage she work up to find out that her biological daughter wasn't breathing. The woman began to sob uncontrollably. the light-skinned child just looked at her through teary lost eyes. They heard footsteps and the child hid behind her mother. A white man walked to the woman and took the dead child from her arms. Despite her pleas and screams, he didn't seem to understand her or listen to her; he just walked away with the child.

Once they hit the land they were sold off to other white people. And they were renamed. The woman was re-named Elizabeth. Elizabeth was taken to the house of cotton farmer by the name of John Jackson. There she worked as a domestic servant of the family; she also was to watch for the children who lived there, a boy by the name of Ben and a little girl named Samantha. However, she rarely saw Samantha, and if she did she never saw the little girl's face. Samantha was always in etiquette, literature classes and art. Ben on the other hand was always out and about. Running through the house, playing with the horses and being loud. Elizabeth had to chase him all over the house when it was time for his shower.

One day while Elizabeth was doing the dishes she began to look outside the window. She saw all the plantation workers watering and cutting down crops, and she remembered the days she would be out in the fields harvesting their crops for the meal while the men hunted and her daughters would be crawling around the meadows babbling non-understandable words. She was roughly brought back from her thoughts when something small bumped into her and she dropped the plate she was holding and it shattered into small little pieces. "I apologize miss--" began Elizabeth as she looked up to see little Samantha smiling at her. "I will not tell," replied Samantha, "just please do not tell I was here--I'll be in deep trouble for not practicing my lessons."

Still shocked, Elizabeth just nodded and picked up the pieces. She could not forget what had happened that day. She could not believe she had actually met Samantha. Elizabeth for some reason began to feel a pull towards Samantha and truly did care for her. Samantha would sneak out of her study time and would often spend the day with Elizabeth talking about events in the house and all the gossip she was hearing. Like when her mother got in trouble for not having dinner ready, or complained about how her brother could run around but she wasn't allowed to, and how she was told that she had to listen to men. She would often speak about how she would like to be traveling the world. Elizabeth would often just listen but every once in awhile she would share a thought or two. Samantha also taught Elizabeth to write and read secretly because slaves were not supposed to know how to read and write. It was illegal and if someone found out they could be in big trouble.

The years went by and Samantha was sent to a boarding school in the north. During her time away Elizabeth continued to work for the family. Samantha learned many things in boarding school, especially that she had to be caring, religious, calm, succumb to men and be obedient. Samantha was finally out of school after four years. She was now 17 and was so excited to come home to tell Elizabeth everything she had learned. When she got there she was greeted by her mother and was unable to sneak out to find Elizabeth. The next morning, however, she got up really early and sneaked off to the cabin where the black servant women would sleep. There she was greeted by another servant girl who was not Elizabeth. "Where is Elizabeth?" Samantha asked.

"She is no longer with us, miss," replied the servant girl.

"Was she sent to another farm?" asked Samantha.

"Oh, miss," began the servant girl. "Elizabeth became very ill and she could no longer fight, but she left you this little paper." The servant girl handed Samantha a small paper and left. Samantha was still processing, and it wasn't until the girl left that it finally hit her that she would never see Elizabeth again. With shaky hands, she opened up the folded paper and began to read the small little message.