“You
black dog,” Edward started. “You had better get up on those feet of yours
before I pick up my electric iron.” Jim couldn’t stand; he merely sat up and
rested his back against the wall.
“What
is wrong with this fool,” Edward continued. “Are you tired already? When you’ve
just started your daily schedule?” Jim couldn’t reply; he couldn’t even look up
at him. He just sat still.
“I’m
going inside now. If I come back in the next five minutes and meet this car
unwashed and dirty as it is, you are dead already.” Edward grabbed his wallet
from the car and proceeded towards the house.
“That
reminds me, where the hell is the second useless nonentity?” Edwards asked,
staring at Jim. Jim raced his short hands and pointed towards the backyard, and
then he went face down again.
“Jam!
Jam! Jam!” Edward started to bellow once more. And like the first, another sick
male voice sounded from the backyard and appeared before Edward the same minute.
He was even dirtier than the first, having piles of shit all around his body.
He staggered, stumbled and landed the same place his fellow was.
Edward
was laughing and saying, “Two nonentities are always useless, I shouldn’t have
bought you at all. Alright, when you are through with your foolish ways, make
sure you make that garden as neat as Eden.”
Jim and
jam were just there, staring speechlessly and hopelessly at him. They were both
blacks bought and brought from Africa; their master gave them names after he
paid a price of $3 in addition for the both of them. This was a time of great
trials for the African slaves. None of them wished to be bought, yet they
didn’t think of escaping. Running away was absolutely of no use, they would
always find them and bring them back to the country. Their masters owned them;
they treated them gravely, maybe because they bought them for such a low price.
And why they are brought home to serve their masters, they make signatures and
identities on them with electric irons.
Jam could remember the day he was first
brought to the house; he had thought he was going to live a better life than
where he had previously been, he thought he would be given a chance to learn a
trade; he thought things would be easy. His hope was completely brought to
ruins under the mastership of Edwards; he showed him hell on earth. Jam did
virtually everything in the house; and whenever he was through with the tasks,
Edwards would tell him to begin again. And like he had done the first time, he
would go over the washing, scrubbing, cooking, pressing and every other things
over and over again; and to worsen matters, Edward would tell him to do it all
again, complaining of one thing or the other. He always had something to
complain about; he even complained once that Jam scrubbed too much, whereas he
was the one that gave him the instruction to scrub the fifth time.
Things were so hard on Jam that at a
certain point he considered suicide as a good escape from all his pains and
prolonged sufferings. To him then, there was no way forward. But before he
could come to his firm and full decision, Edward brought in another slave to
the house has he had brought Jam.
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