One

The air is so hot and dense that I can barely breathe. I am knee-deep in the rice swamps, hoeing the soft earth so that the crop will be ready for harvest come autumn. As I wade through the water, my legs feel heavy and a river of sweat drips down my neck. 

I toss my long, chocolate brown French braid over my shoulder and crane my face up at the blistering sun. Why has God given us this life? The back-breaking labor, the never-ending fear…this is the life of a slave. Why me, why us?

“Lucky, get back to work! Stop staring up at the sun that way, don’t you remember?  Your mama always said it would make you go blind.”

I am dragged back from my daydream by the voice of Suzette. Although she’s scarcely 35 years old, decades of work at the Kaiser Plantation have made her age prematurely. Her forehead has already started to soften and grow wrinkles, her skin is the color of midnight from living under the Georgia sun, and she complains every day of a new ache or pain. But when she smiles, it’s big and warm and friendly. It’s a special place to be, on the receiving end of Suzette’s grin. 

“I’d rather be deaf than blind so I wouldn’t have to hear your a*s anymore!”, bellows Ed from across the bog before letting out one of his booming laughs. He’s a large, kind man with saucers for eyes and a wide gap between his front teeth. “Aint that right, Luck?”, he says to me with a chuckle before going back to whistling while he works.

Suzette rolls her eyes and says, “Shut up Ed, you crazy fool. Lucky! Where’s your hat this morning? You know your skin can’t take but so much sunshine.”

And she’s right. Unlike all the other slaves with deep cocoa-colored skin, my skin is light tan and sprinkled with freckles, leaving me susceptible to hellish sunburns. 

“Yeah, I know, Suze. I forgot it in the shed this morning. I’ll grab it after lunch!”, I call back.

Suzette and Ed, along with the rest of the Kaiser slaves, raised me from when I was a child. Suzette was my mother’s best friend; they were both born in Alabama and traded from plantation to plantation before ending up here in Driver Hill, Georgia, almost two decades ago. Ever since Mama was sent away, Suzette and Ed have been the closest thing I’ve had to a family. I have no memories of singing songs with my Mama; instead,  it’s Suzette’s voice I can hear crooning sweetly in my ear. Ed taught me how to fish, how to catch grasshoppers, and how to pull the light off of fireflies and stick it to my nose so that I, too, could glow in the dark. Of Mama, I remember almost nothing. But I know she was good to me, only because that’s what everyone says. “Your mama sure did love you, Lucky. She loved you and loved you hard.”

The hours pass, each more excruciating than the last. A callous on my hand bursts and oozes a clear liquid. I dip my hand in the cool swamp water to rinse it off, then touch my wet hand to my cheek. I know it must be close to break time, because my shoulder is starting to go numb from all the hoeing. It gets that way every day around noon. Just then I hear the bell ring from the Plantation house, and the slaves start to wade clumsily out of the water, all rubber boots and tired legs. 

On the side of the marsh, I peel off my heavy boots and wiggle my toes. Ed comes over and pats me on the head as if to say, “Good work this morning, kid.” I look up at him, beaming. Like clockwork, a procession of people files out of the sprawling Kaiser Plantation House. The black house slaves, a vision of propriety in their starched white shirts and breeches, walk out with trays of water and our simple lunch: cornbread and honey. I scoff and roll my eyes. Cornbread again? Hardly enough to get us through till supper. Suzette gives me a quick pinch and whispers, “Hush up now”, before grabbing her piece. My pale green eyes scan through the group of house slaves who are now passing out food and drink to the rest of us, and find my best friend Wila. Ever the image of mischief, she walks up to me with a sly grin. “I cut you an extra big slice! Thank me later.” 

I suppress a giggle and smile back. “I’ll thank you now! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” We have time to sneak a quick hug before she turns to go. “Wait”, I whisper. “Let me tell you all about this snake I saw in the water today. It was blue and white striped and I didn’t even see it until ---”

Wila cuts me off and looks back over her shoulder. I can’t help but notice she looks sneakier than usual. “Tell me later! Big news today. I heard them talking about it last night while we were serving dinner.”

Before I say anything, she snatches my now empty glass of water, puts it on her tray, and rushes back to the steps of the Plantation house. 

The house slaves have just enough time to get up to the porch and get in line before a group of white people step out. I take a bite of cornbread and gaze up curiously at these strange white folks. It’s a man, a woman, and two young people about my age -- a boy and a girl. I look over at Ed who shrugs, confused. Then, out of the mansion walks the first familiar white person I’ve seen all day. The only white person I’ve ever known, in fact: my father.