A Fugitive’s Escape

A Story dedicated to the International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition

To the North, she fled from her oppressor, her master. Holding her baby of ten months, she fled from bondage, from slavery. The journey was long and arduous, wrought with the danger of being caught, yet she took the plunge. Hiding during the day in forests, walking all through the night. Hunger, thirst, heat and dust, nothing mattered.

When her infant was hungry, he cried. She would put her finger, coated with opium, in his mouth to suckle. Softly she would say, “Hush! My baby, wait until we reach the land of freedom. There I’ll feed you milk and honey”. Every time she had to do this, tears would blind her eyes. But she knew she couldn’t take the risk. She had to force her baby to sleep. She was afraid his cries may lead her to doom.

When passing wind ruffled the dead leaves, she was afraid; when a lone bird called his mate, she was afraid; she was afraid of the faintest noise.

People say fear makes you weak and timid. The braveheart is fearless.

She was running towards freedom; she was not free to run freely.

She hastened her strides, beseeching God to help her sail through and cross the border leading into the land of freedom.

When forests ended she hid in barns and deserted homesteads. Abolitionists would leave food and informations about safe routes for fleeing slaves in these abandoned cottages. She lived on morsels left by these random kind souls.

Cautiously she trod on. More than the strength it was her will that stood by her. Her son was too young to know the power of will. He succumbed to hunger on his way to freedom.

She buried him under a bush.

“Now what…… where do I go?”, she asked herself.

She heard a voice. It was her dead son. He said, “Mother, it is for me you are on the run. I am alive in you. Going back is out of the question. Land of freedom is our destination.” He was her guardian angel.

She lost count of days or maybe months. All she knew was to hide from bounty hunters during the day and walk and walk miles and miles in the night’s darkness.

Lonely and tired, many times she thought of giving up and going back but, her son’s voice, her guardian angel nudged her to move on and on.

She was fatigued and famished when she eventually crossed over. Yet she continued to walk for several nights until she was held back and told that she was a fugitive no more.

After she had come to terms with her reality she had to work as a housemaid. There was not much opportunity for the unschooled and unskilled. She had to battle to make both ends meet. When someone asked her if she regretted because life was difficult, she replied, “I don’t work as much as I used to work there. I worked day and night and yet had not enough to eat. I drank insults and ate lashes. Which one would you prefer?”

A potent mix of fear, torture, humiliation and hunger is powerful to make your mind lose control of thinking; you become mechanical. The white masters administered their black slaves with this potion right from the time they were born. Fortunately, the drug did not agree with some and so it manifested in the reaction of ‘escape from slavery’. Only a few could succeed; unfortunately, many failed.

As she was nearing the finish line, strangely, the voice of her guardian angel grew fainter. It stopped once she crossed over. She did not miss her son so much throughout her journey. But when she crossed over….. she felt his loss. They had to pay too heavy a price for our freedom!

The UNESCO has designated August 23rd of each year to be observed as International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition.