Toby used a mug to rinse his head with water from the trough, same as every day since he had been brought to this place. The cool water on his head helped him forget the days labor in the cotton field. His hands covered in calluses and blisters from the spiked plants he worked with. Stepping into the house, house…more like a rickety shack, he made his way to his bunk and laid down for a moment to try and cool down. He could feel his skin still burning from the late summer heat. It felt tight, dry, and hot. He swore one of these days the skin on his back was going to burst into flames under the hot Georgia sun. The other indentured servants, that’s what the masters called them all, filtered into the bunk house each looking exhausted and bruised from the day’s work. Many wearing a look of defeat as their heads and brows hung low in shame. Toby knew some of these people from the village he had grown up in, they were all so happy there. Life was fulfilling, and despite their hardships they stayed in high spirits. But here, in this place, under their masters whips it seemed they lost that spirit. Perhaps it had been beaten out of them by the whips, or burned out of them by the sun, or bled out of them by the cotton plant. How Toby hated handling those damned thorny plants daily.
As the sun began to set the women had cooked supper for all. Toby was surprised to see meat served with supper tonight. “The masters must have been feeling generous today”, he thought to himself. Then as Toby took a big bite the sour taste filled his mouth and he could not keep the rancid food in his mouth any longer and spat it out onto the ground. “Of course. Why would they give us any meat they would eat themselves,” he thought. What Toby didn’t realize was one of the field bosses standing behind him as he spat out the rancid food. “What’s wrong boy? You not appreciate the meat Mister Jefferson gave you to eat?” the field boss asked, eying Toby with a steely gaze, whip held tightly in his hand.
“No Boss, its just that its gone bad Boss”
“Gone bad? I don’t see any of the other animals here complaining.” He said waving his coiled whip around towards the other slaves.
“I guess your just too good for Mister Jefferson’s gracious givings”
“No Boss, I meant no disrespect. My stomach just ain’t quite right today. I”ll eat it happily, Boss. I swear.” Toby said meekly.
“Oh, No. I wouldn’t want your delicate stomach to get hurt.”
The field boss grabbed Toby’s bowl from him and shoved him into the ground with the heel of his boot as he dumped the contents of the bowl onto the ground. He kicked dirt over the food and spat atop the mound as he turned to walk away. Toby pushed himself back up to a sitting position and stared at the field boss walking away with the whip clenched firmly in his ebony hand. Some days Toby had wished he wasn’t seen as a lesser person, he wished he wasn’t born white.
