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August 1, 1876
Dear Essie,
It is
in hopes of dispelling
any thoughts of
abandonment or disloyalty,
that I now set forth
the circumstances that have
separated us
these many months.
As you know,
it was my desire
to join you forthwith,
to witness the arrival
of our child,
the first generation
to enter this life,
as the possession
of no man.
But alas,
the evils of our former condition,
persist even now,
if only
in more clandestine nature.
As I set about the journey
to your waiting arms,
the banner of Christ
upon my bearing,
mindful to avoid
both the speech and manner
of either ruffian or bandit,
I was accosted by a man
of that fairer race,
now reluctant
to relinquish their dominion
over our people.
He inquired as to
whence I go.
Startled by his inquisition,
yet
determined to foreclose this engagement
at the earliest convenience,
I informed him of
both,
your condition,
and
my eagerness to attend you.
However, my answers
only served to
further the interrogation,
as he demanded to know
both
my vocation,
and
what person
kept me in his employ.
Uneasy about his temperament
and eager to continue my journey,
I informed him as to my occupation.
He then, quite tersely responded,
that he knew no such person,
and indicated
that he was unconvinced
of the veracity of my claim.
At this point,
I insisted that,
perhaps he had not made
Master Pruitt's acquaintance,
since Master
was of Washington County,
many miles yonder.
Then without, warning,
he informed me,
that I was to be arrested,
upon the charge that I was,
in fact, a trifling negro,
whom he had discovered
in a vagrant condition,
wandering about
the state of Alabama.
Of course,
I protested
that
his conclusion was incorrect,
and furthermore,
even if true,
provided no grounds for my detainment.
Then, to my horror,
he drew his rifle,
and struck me,
and,
upon the sudden appearance
of 2 cohorts,
of similar stature,
proceeded to bind me,
insisting that I was
to be brought before a magistrate
to answer the charges.
Astounded by this assault,
and the absurdity of any claims
as to its legality,
nevertheless,
being certain that
I had committed no crime,
remained optimistic about
the probability of my release.
The next morning,
the magistrate informed me
that it was, in fact, illegal
for a negro to be found
wandering the streets
without employment,
and that vagrants
were subject to
forced labour,
for a period of 5 years.
Well, my dear,
you can only imagine
my shock
at learning of such a provision,
Nevertheless,
confident in my vocation,
I proceeded to inform his honour,
that I did in fact,
work a plot of land
leased to me
by one,
Master Pruitt of Washington County,
at which point,
his honour demanded
that I present witnesses
to testify to those facts.
I pleaded with his honour,
that having been unfamiliar
with this law,
and a stranger in this county,
I had no witnesses to present.
At which point, his honour,
declared a guilty verdict,
and sentenced me to
1 year labour, in
The Pratt Coal Mine,
where I have remained, ever since.
My dear,
it is impossible
to adequately convey
the deplorable conditions
which befall me,
on these few lines.
We number nearly 200,
and all but 3 are negroes.
I am housed in a shack
barely fit for a small beast,
which purports to shelter,
myself and 4 other men.
We arise before the sun,
and only emerge from
these dark caverns,
by the light of the moon.
The air is dense with dust,
and I have taken to
covering my mouth with
whatever sliver of cloth
I can conjure,
in hopes of offering my lungs
a modicum of relief,
and to limit those fits of
exasperated coughs,
which have so racked my body.
The overseer,
a man for whom
human kindness
is held in abject contempt,
perceives any brief respite,
as tantamount to sloth,
and answers it
with the most violent expression.
I have seen
many a man
whipped
within a slender grip of life,
and a few,
several strokes beyond it.
The meagre scraps
affording us sustenance,
are inadequate for one man,
let alone five,
and hunger and despair
are our constant companion.
Death surrounds me,
and I have quickly
learned to discern
the arrival of that dark companion,
in the bearing of those soon
to depart this life.
Ironically,
it is not the frailty of the flesh
wish portends their demise,
for we are cobbled together, daily
by that inarticulable determination
which has preserved our lineage,
but rather,
the vacuous feature
of hopelessness
reflected in the wandering glare.
I have often managed to
predict the passing of a soul,
within an hour of his expiration.
A most vile expertise.
I have determined to
harden my constitution
against desiring death
as a means of
finally attaining
that liberation,
which,
though pledged
with much celebration,
a decade ago,
has yet to be granted.
I write you this letter,
all too aware
that it may never reach you,
since I am
as dependent upon Providence
for its arrival,
as, I am
at her mercy
for my survival,
every day.
For
the only certainty
in this life
is death,
and the judgment to come.
Do not cease to pray for me,
as I have persisted in my prayers
for you.
May the Good Lord,
keep you.
With Love,
Zeke.
NOTE:
Although The Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, ratified in 1865, states, in part,
"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted"
Many of the southern states adopted a policy of increased criminalization of African-Americans, in efforts to secure cheap labour. Essentially, Slavery by Another Name, also the title of a book by Douglas A. Blackmon.
These draconian laws, which criminalized common behaviour such as: loud talking and spitting; and, most notoriously, vagrancy, facilitated the convict leasing system.
Beginning in 1874, this system allowed states to lease out prisoners, often convicted on trumped-up charges, to corporations, who would work them mercilessly for the period of their incarceration.
90% of prisoners leased were black.
30% of prisoners, died while in custody. Many were worked to death, others were beaten to death.
The preceding poem, is a fictitious letter, from an actual victim, Ezekiel Archey, who was enslaved in The Pratt Mine, in Jefferson County, Alabama.
Several such letters, by Archey and other victims, have since been archived.
Dear Essie,
It is
in hopes of dispelling
any thoughts of
abandonment or disloyalty,
that I now set forth
the circumstances that have
separated us
these many months.
As you know,
it was my desire
to join you forthwith,
to witness the arrival
of our child,
the first generation
to enter this life,
as the possession
of no man.
But alas,
the evils of our former condition,
persist even now,
if only
in more clandestine nature.
As I set about the journey
to your waiting arms,
the banner of Christ
upon my bearing,
mindful to avoid
both the speech and manner
of either ruffian or bandit,
I was accosted by a man
of that fairer race,
now reluctant
to relinquish their dominion
over our people.
He inquired as to
whence I go.
Startled by his inquisition,
yet
determined to foreclose this engagement
at the earliest convenience,
I informed him of
both,
your condition,
and
my eagerness to attend you.
However, my answers
only served to
further the interrogation,
as he demanded to know
both
my vocation,
and
what person
kept me in his employ.
Uneasy about his temperament
and eager to continue my journey,
I informed him as to my occupation.
He then, quite tersely responded,
that he knew no such person,
and indicated
that he was unconvinced
of the veracity of my claim.
At this point,
I insisted that,
perhaps he had not made
Master Pruitt's acquaintance,
since Master
was of Washington County,
many miles yonder.
Then without, warning,
he informed me,
that I was to be arrested,
upon the charge that I was,
in fact, a trifling negro,
whom he had discovered
in a vagrant condition,
wandering about
the state of Alabama.
Of course,
I protested
that
his conclusion was incorrect,
and furthermore,
even if true,
provided no grounds for my detainment.
Then, to my horror,
he drew his rifle,
and struck me,
and,
upon the sudden appearance
of 2 cohorts,
of similar stature,
proceeded to bind me,
insisting that I was
to be brought before a magistrate
to answer the charges.
Astounded by this assault,
and the absurdity of any claims
as to its legality,
nevertheless,
being certain that
I had committed no crime,
remained optimistic about
the probability of my release.
The next morning,
the magistrate informed me
that it was, in fact, illegal
for a negro to be found
wandering the streets
without employment,
and that vagrants
were subject to
forced labour,
for a period of 5 years.
Well, my dear,
you can only imagine
my shock
at learning of such a provision,
Nevertheless,
confident in my vocation,
I proceeded to inform his honour,
that I did in fact,
work a plot of land
leased to me
by one,
Master Pruitt of Washington County,
at which point,
his honour demanded
that I present witnesses
to testify to those facts.
I pleaded with his honour,
that having been unfamiliar
with this law,
and a stranger in this county,
I had no witnesses to present.
At which point, his honour,
declared a guilty verdict,
and sentenced me to
1 year labour, in
The Pratt Coal Mine,
where I have remained, ever since.
My dear,
it is impossible
to adequately convey
the deplorable conditions
which befall me,
on these few lines.
We number nearly 200,
and all but 3 are negroes.
I am housed in a shack
barely fit for a small beast,
which purports to shelter,
myself and 4 other men.
We arise before the sun,
and only emerge from
these dark caverns,
by the light of the moon.
The air is dense with dust,
and I have taken to
covering my mouth with
whatever sliver of cloth
I can conjure,
in hopes of offering my lungs
a modicum of relief,
and to limit those fits of
exasperated coughs,
which have so racked my body.
The overseer,
a man for whom
human kindness
is held in abject contempt,
perceives any brief respite,
as tantamount to sloth,
and answers it
with the most violent expression.
I have seen
many a man
whipped
within a slender grip of life,
and a few,
several strokes beyond it.
The meagre scraps
affording us sustenance,
are inadequate for one man,
let alone five,
and hunger and despair
are our constant companion.
Death surrounds me,
and I have quickly
learned to discern
the arrival of that dark companion,
in the bearing of those soon
to depart this life.
Ironically,
it is not the frailty of the flesh
wish portends their demise,
for we are cobbled together, daily
by that inarticulable determination
which has preserved our lineage,
but rather,
the vacuous feature
of hopelessness
reflected in the wandering glare.
I have often managed to
predict the passing of a soul,
within an hour of his expiration.
A most vile expertise.
I have determined to
harden my constitution
against desiring death
as a means of
finally attaining
that liberation,
which,
though pledged
with much celebration,
a decade ago,
has yet to be granted.
I write you this letter,
all too aware
that it may never reach you,
since I am
as dependent upon Providence
for its arrival,
as, I am
at her mercy
for my survival,
every day.
For
the only certainty
in this life
is death,
and the judgment to come.
Do not cease to pray for me,
as I have persisted in my prayers
for you.
May the Good Lord,
keep you.
With Love,
Zeke.
NOTE:
Although The Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, ratified in 1865, states, in part,
"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted"
Many of the southern states adopted a policy of increased criminalization of African-Americans, in efforts to secure cheap labour. Essentially, Slavery by Another Name, also the title of a book by Douglas A. Blackmon.
These draconian laws, which criminalized common behaviour such as: loud talking and spitting; and, most notoriously, vagrancy, facilitated the convict leasing system.
Beginning in 1874, this system allowed states to lease out prisoners, often convicted on trumped-up charges, to corporations, who would work them mercilessly for the period of their incarceration.
90% of prisoners leased were black.
30% of prisoners, died while in custody. Many were worked to death, others were beaten to death.
The preceding poem, is a fictitious letter, from an actual victim, Ezekiel Archey, who was enslaved in The Pratt Mine, in Jefferson County, Alabama.
Several such letters, by Archey and other victims, have since been archived.
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