|
aab22f0
|
That is what the Slave Trade was all about. Not death from poxes and musketry and whippings and malnutrition and melancholy and suicide: death itself. For before the white men came to Guinea to strip-mine field hands. ... black people did not die ... the decedent ... took up residence in an afterworld that was in many ways indistinguishable from his former estate.
|
|
slavery
race-america
slave-trade
race
|
David Bradley |
|
22772e1
|
And so he set about restoring them, using the tricks he had learned over the years. He went to them, speaking to each of them in tones so low that none of the others could hear, getting their names, gently touching them, asking about their pains, their fears, gently eliciting their stories, reminding them of why they had run in the first place.
|
|
love
stories
|
David Bradley |
|
9b5cda2
|
Sometimes you can hear the wire, hear it reaching out across the miles; whining with its own weight, crying from the cold, panting at the distance, humming with the phantom sounds of someone else's conversation. You cannot always hear it - only sometimes; when the night is deep and the room is dark and the sound of the phone's ringing has come slicing through uneasy sleep.
|
|
|
David Bradley |
|
a48c363
|
she encouraged them, allowed them to encourage her. She needed them. Because she was still not sure she could do what she had set out to do.
|
|
faith
mutual-trust
|
David Bradley |
|
9b5fa95
|
knowing nothing can get you humiliated and knowing a little bit can get you killed, but knowing all of it will bring you power.
|
|
|
David Bradley |