The Life Of Angela Robinson Chapter 1

Her name was Angela. Master Robinson gave it to her. She and I grew up on a plantation in Alabama. The Robinson Plantation wasn't very wealthy. All together Master Robinsaon owned only about fourty slaves. Compared to the Herriot Plantation, which had about two hundred slaves, it was very poor.

I was only about three years old when she was born. I remember seeing her for the first time. Her dark black hand reached out for mine. I smiled at her, but she was to little to smile back. Her mother was sold a year later. I never knew who my mother was or who my father was. Aunt Selma always suspected that my father was white, but had no proof of it. I suppose she noticed how light my skin was compared to the other slaves. She used to always say to me, "My goodness George. If you was any lighter they'd mistake you for an overseer." I used to hate our overseer. That drunk whipped till the day he dropped.

Angela was the smartest girl I ever met. I never noticed how smart she was till she got Master Robinson's son, Fredric, to teach her how to read and write. That boy could never say no to a pretty face. Later on she tought me how to write. If it wasn't for her then I wouldn't be writing this today.

Since Angela was the person closest to my age we were always together. By the time we were about ten and seven years old we were best friends. Whenever I had the chance I would give her extra corn meal. That always made her smile. This was about the time I started working out in the feild. Master Robinson gave me shoes, socks, pants, two shirts, and a jacket then. Before all I had had was a linen shirt. Angela still wasn't old anough to work in the feild, but her time would come soon. At first I was exited about all of the new clothing. I thought to myself, "This must've cost Master a whole seven dollors!" Little did I know how hard work would be.

One time near the beggining of my working days I was working in the feild and realized how hot it was. I sat down for just a second. The overseer came up to me and whipped me so hard that I thought I was going to die. This was the first time I had ever been whipped, though I had seen it many times before. The overseer yelled in his scruff voice like an ogar, "If I ever catch you sitting down again when your supposed to be workin', then I'll skin you alive." From that point on it would be a long time before I sat down while working again.

At night when I wasn't being forced to work I would visit Angela. She and I always had a fun time no matter what. One time when I was about eleven years old it was late in the night. I had just finished working. I went to visit Angela. When I walked into the small, shabby room we slept in I saw her crying. "What's wrong, Angela," I asked.

She looked up at me with her teary brown eyes and said, "Why do they do this to us, George? Why are they so mean? Why can't we be free like the white folks?"

I sat down next to her on the ground. "I don't know, Angela. I just don't know. Maybe someday we be free," I said in a cool manner.

She replied, "Do you really think so?"

I answered, "Of coarse I do." That was all she needed. She curled up on the floor with her old blanket on top of her and fell asleep. That night I stayed up late thinking. I wondered if someday we really would be free. Maybe someday Angela would get her wish.