There are thi..!1gs in life 1 do not understand. Everything
'about Nature ,seems obscure to me, and the gods even more. They're the ones who are Stlpposed to give birth to all those things that a person sees, that I seen, and th,at do exist for " sure. The gods are willful and' ornery. why so many strange:things have gone on around here. I remember from before, during slavery, I spent a lot of time looking upwards ,because I've always really liked the sky-it's so full of color. ,One time the sky turned into a glowing ember, and there ,:was a terrible drought. Another time there was an eclipse of sun. It began at four, in the afternoon and was seen all over the island. The moon seemed to be fighting with the :sun. I began to realize everything going backwards. It getting darker and darker and then lighter and lighter. chickens perched on the tops of posts. Folks were so they couldn't talk. Some died of heart attacks, and were struck dumb. I I Seen the same thing other'times but in a different place. I wouldn't ask why it happened for anything in the 'The long and short' of it is that I know everything on Nature. Nature is everything. ,Even what you 'And we men can't do those kinds of things because of a God-Jesus Christ is the one most talked "Jesus Christ. was not born in Africa. He came direct -ature herself because Mary was a virgin. The , gods are the ones' from Africa. I tell you it's a fact fly. And they did whatever they wanted with SLAVERY 19 18 BIOGRAPHY OF A RUNAWAY SLAVE their hexes. 1- don't know how they allowed slavery. Truth is that I set myself to thinking about it, and I can't get it. In my opinion it aU began with the red kerchiefs. The day they crossed over the wall. The wall was very old in Africa and went along the whole coast. It was a wall made out of palm fronds and wicked bugs that bit like the devil. They scared off the whites who were trying to get into Africa for many years. But it was the color scarlet that ruined all of them. And the kings and all the rest surrendered to it like nothing at alL When the kings saw the white men, 1 think it was the Portuguese who were the first, pull out their red kerchiefs as if they were waving hello, they said to the blacks: "Go get one of those scarlet cloths, go on." And the blacks, excited by the red, ran like little lambs to the boats, and they were caught ~ right there. Black men have always really liked red. That T color is to blame for putting chains on them and sending them to Cuba. And then they couldn't return to their homeland. That's .the reason there was slavery in Cuba. When the English discovered that business, they wouldn't allow more blacks to be brought, and then slavery ended and that other part began, the free part. It was around the 80s. For me, none of that is forgotten. 1 lived through it all. 1 even remember my godparents told me the date I was born. It was the 26th of December, 1860, San Esteban'S day, the one on the calendar. That's why my name is Esteban.. My family name is Montejo, for my mother, who was a slave of French origin. My middle name is Mera. But that one hardly anyone knows about. Anyway it's not right, so why use it? . My real middle name is Mesa. What happened was that they put it down wrong in the records, and I left it that way.: . Since I wanted to have two names like everybody else, so 1. wouldn't be called "jungle baby," I took that one, and there it was. The name Mesa came from a certain Pancho Mesa in Rodrigo. That seems reasonable since he raised me after my birth. He was my mother's !paster. Of course,' I never seen him, but 1 know the story is true because my godparents told it to me. And I've never forgotten anything they ever told me. " My godfather was named Gin Congo, 1 and my godmother, Susana. I was to get to know them around the ,90s; when the war hadn't really started up yet. An old black man who was at the same mill, they were, anq who knew me, gave me details about them. He himself took'me to see them. .. ' I gradually got into the habit of visitin them in Chinchilla, the district where they lived, near Sa ua la Grande. Since I :g.idn'tknow my parents, I asked about t Irst. Then I ;learned about their names and other details. They even told ,<.methe plantation where I was born; My father's name was ,a:qazado, and he was Lucumi from Oy6. My mother, Emilia ._, _ They also told me my parents had died in Sagua. ~ . ; i s that I would have liked to meet them, but because I my. skin, I was unable to. If r had come out of the ,theywould have caught me on the spot. I was a runaway slave, I never met my parents. r ever seen them. But what is true can't be sad. .all children of slavery, the criollitos, as they were I' was born in the infirmary where they took the It', black women to gjve birth. j' think it was at the esa plantation, though I'm not real sure. What r do is that my godparents talked to me a lot about ..(ttion and its owners, people by the name of La :hat'sthe name my godparents had for a long time, r left Cuba .. ';y-ere'sold like piglets, and they sold me right off .don't remember anything about that place. I do '--:0;0 ...."'7:.-. 20 BIOGRAPHYOPARUNAWAYSLAVE , know that the plantation was near where I was born, which is in that northern region of Las Villas, Zulueta, Remedios, Caibarien, all those towns on down to the ocean. Then the picture of another plantation comes to mind, Flor de Sagua. I don't know if that's the place where I worked for the first time. What I am sure about is that I ran away from there once. I rebelled, by, God, and I ran away. Who wanted to work! But they caught me like a little .lamb, and they put some shackles on me that I can still feel ifI really think about it. They tied them on me tight and put me to work and all of that. You talk about this kind of thing now and folks don't believe you. But I experienced it, and now I've got to talk about The owner of that plantation had one 'of those long strange, connected names. He was a million bad things, a blockhead, grouchy, stuffy ... He drove around through the cane fields in the carriage with his buddies and his wife. He would wave with his kerchief, but he wouldn't come .up dose on a bet. The masters never went into the fields. This one's case was strange. I remember he had an elegant black, a first rate drive,r, with an earring and all. All those coachmen were ass-kissers and snitches. They were what you call colored dandies. At Flor de Sagua I first began work with the wagons , carrying bagazo. I would sit in the driver's seat and steer the mule. If the wagon was very full I would stop, get down,and lead him by the reins. The mules were stubborn, and you had to pull them very hard. Your back would start to get humped. A lot of those folks walking around sort of humped over is because of those mules. The wagons went out full, right up to the top. They were always unloaded in trw OallZ:/, h?rl to son':,;rl O!lt ,:f;,;, rf, You p,:dJed the :){)wn y.":;!': ,: hrq '('h:::,' ; : SLAVERY 21 bunched up and dry to the Ovens. That was done to get the steam up. I think it was the first job I had. That's what my memory tells me anyway. ' , All the parts inside the mill were primitive. Not like today, with lights and fast machinery. They were called cachimbos because that word meant a tiny mill. In those cachimbos, cane sugar was made into muscovado. There were some mills that didn't make sugar, just molasses and raspadura. Almost aU those mi1Is had a single Owners and were known as trapiches. In cachimbos there were three 'kettles. The kettles were big, made out of cop'per and wide mouthed. In one, the raw cane juice was cooked, in another the cachaza was beaten, and in the third the cane syrup reached the graining point. We called cachaza what was left Of the cane juice. It came out like a hard crust that was healthy food for the pigs. After the cane syrup was ready, ' yOit took a trough, and with a big ladle attached to a stick, )U 'poured the syrup into the trough, and from there to !"crystallizing pan which was standing a short ways from . There the muscovado set up, which was the sugar. The best part of the molasses remained in T..:. those days that thing you call a centrifuge didn't exist. Once the fresh sugar was in the cooling room, you had in there barefoot, with a pick and a shovel and a hand One black always went in front and another behind. " hand barrow was to carry the hogsheads to the room, a large depository with two boards where the Were placed so that the sugar would drain. The that leaked out of the barrel went to the batey and fed to rhe sheep and the piglets. It fattened them up ailick 1",.\"1:;'/":'" "fhed ii:ugar 'Ytrt: Some big !'Ul" 11.,1,,, Lnf:' .. .', 'VI;'t-:; oj
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, . ,..... : .. ',," 'efrt nmr 'T F :, "" .. ... _, .:Wttt'! , , ,,','" 22 BIOGRAPHY OF A RUNAWAY SLAVE like sugar nowadays, like .white sugar. The funnels were. known as molds. . I know this part of making sugar better than most folks, who only knew about the cane out in the fields. And totell the truth, I prefer the inside work, because it's more comfortable. In Flor de Sagua I worked in the cachimbo's cooling room. But that's after I was experienced with the bagazo. That was a pick and shovel job. To my mind, even cutting cane was better. I must have been about ten, and that's why they didn't send me to the fields. But ten years of age then was like saying thirty now because children worked like oxen. If a little black boy was pretty and lively, they sent him inside, to the master's house. There they began to sweeten. him up, and ...what do I know! The fact is that the little black. boy had to spend his time shooing flies because the masters ate a lot. And they put the little boy at the head of the table while they ate. They gave him a big long fan made of a palm frond. And they told him: "Shoo, so those flies don't fall in the food!" If a fly fell on a plate, they scolded him severely and even whipped him. 1 never did this work be.cause I never liked' to be near the masters. I was. a cim arr 611 from birth. Life in the Barracoons AJl- the slaves lived in barracoons. 2 Those living quarters are gone now so nobody can see them. But I seen them, and I De,Ver had a good thought about them. The masters sure did that barracoons were boxes of gold. The slaves didn't like living in those conditions .. them. The barracoons were big although there .. were some mills that had small ones. It depended on the .J!umber of slaves in the work force. About two hundred "slaves of all different colors lived at Flor de Sagua. The Q;arracoon was in the form of two rows that faced each other, a big door in the middle and a thick padlock that ;::;lockedthe slaves in at night. There w.erebatracoons made of others. made of cement with tiled roofs. Both had a dirt floor and were filthy as helL There certainly modern kind of ventilation inside. A little hole in the the room or a little tiny window with bars was aU place swarmed with fleas and ticks that gave re work force in fections and sickness. Those ticks And so the only thing to get rid of them was and sometimes even that didn't work. The masters the barracoonsto look clean o.utside so they painted whitewash. The blacks themselves were given that . master would say to them: "Get some whitewash it evenly." The whitewash was prepared in big :Inthe barracoons, in the central patio. and goats didn't go into the barracoons, but always some fool dog sniffing around looking for