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| Another ten minutes - Slavery |
| Posted on 18/04/05 at 08:46 by NGONGE |
I take no responsibility for the drivel that follows. Blame it on temporary insanity.
Last night, while sitting at home and flicking through the various TV channels, I saw a black and white movie. It was one of those films about American southern plantations, but it was not Gone With The Wind.
I sat watching it for a bit and thinking if the actresses back then were really that good looking or if the black and white quality of the movie was what made them look good. It obviously was the quality of the filming, I thought. There was no zits, uneven skin colours or signs of abuse of skin bleaching products! Surely they had all of these things back then?
As I was thinking of skin colours, the scene moved to slaves working in the plantation. A shiver ran through my body. There are sometimes when I hate myself for being distracted and wandering off the point. This was one of those times.
I saw myself in that field, in the middle of the afternoon, digging a hole and singing Bob Marleys Buffalo Soldier (No, Im not. Im as bald as a frog). Every muscle in my body was showing and the perspiration gave me a glorious glow that even the diet coke ladies would have been impressed with.
Some white guy on a horse came trotting by and I winced. He must be the devil I read about in all those history books. I looked around me for an empty bottle, a stick, a baseball bat or anything that I could use as a weapon. This horse-riding devil was not going to whip me like all the guys I read about and all the scenes Ive seen in movies. I assumed a defensive posture (about the only thing Ive perfected in my Kung-Fu lessons). He trotted right past me!
Some unusual malfunction occurred in my mind and it decided, with no input from me whatsoever, that Im too good for a field slave. It moved me to the big house instead. I was going to have some privileges now. My naked feet had some brand new Nikes on them. Ive gone up in the world and was in the BIG HOUSE. I was going to go to the kitchen and eat as many sweet potatoes as my body could handle (you never know when I might get sent back to the field again).
I had another malfunction! This time, the message from upstairs was that I should run away. I panicked. Running away was no small matter. Im not fond of running away. I remembered the time when I was twelve years old. I had an argument with my parents and decided to run away. That time, I walked the streets for a few hours then went back home when I got hungry. I tried to reason with upstairs; if I couldnt run away as a free twelve year old, how could it do it as a legal slave?
I ran away. I heard dogs barking in the background. The chase is on! I felt sorry for foxes. I ran and ran for hours. Suddenly, it was dark and I was sitting under a tree eating the remains of a cheese sandwich (it was really a ploughmans lunch). As I was eating my sandwich, I sat thinking of home. How am I going to get back there? Where is home? When I get back there, will my people welcome me?
I decided that they probably would not welcome me. Theyll either think that Im a ghost, having given up on me being a live long ago. Or, theyll think that I only came back to snatch more children. Besides, they wouldnt know what a ploughmans lunch is anyway! Going back home was not an option. Like a lion in a zoo, I just had to find me a corner in this enclosure and make it my own.
I started thinking if I were the only run-away slave out there. Surely there are others! I decided to find them, form an army and finally fight back the foxhunters. I heard the march of the Romans. All is not lost after all! Im not alone in these woods. Good old Spartacus is in the vicinity. Oh were going to teach the Romans a lesson, and when were finished, Ill ask him to help me with the foxhunters. I stopped thinking! Kirk Douglas is white and blue eyed, and Im pretty certain that he did some slave movies in the past. Hes not going to help me against the foxhunters! Im doomed!
I slowly shuffled back to the field and was intercepted on the way. The foxhunters got me; their dogs took no notice of my aggressive defensive posture. I was going to get a whipping!
Suddenly, Will Smith was there, singing a loud and nonsensical song and dancing with half naked women! This was torture of course, but it wasnt what I expected! I heard my wife asking me if I liked this song. She had switched the channel! I told her that I dont like all that noise and that after my ordeal; Id appreciate something a little easier on the ears. She asked me what ordeal was I talking about. I told her that she would not understand. She asked me to try her ! Will Smith was just a decoy; this was the real torture. I had to lie. She was not going to get a confession out of me. Ive been through a lot already and if there is one thing Ive learned, its not to meekly surrender. I told her that I had a pain in my leg (I wisely didnt mention all the running I did). She asked me what has a pain in the leg got to do with noisy music?
The knee bone is connected to the shinbone, I said. She gave me an angry look! I told her to work her way up. She was getting angry. I told her that I had a headache. She was not angry anymore. She stroked my head and asked me if I wanted anything to eat. I asked her if she had any sweet potatoes!
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