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Oklahoma Slave Narrative
Sarah Wilson
I was born in 1851, makes me 86 years old. I was born in Middle Tennessee,
Summers County. My mother was put on a block and sold from me when I was a
child. I don't remember my father real good. Sister
Martha, Sister Sallie, nor Sister Jane wasn't sold. But my brother John was. My mother's name is Pachel Donnahue. We lived in a log hut. The white
folks lived in a frame white building sitting in a big grove yard. Old master
owned a big farm.
We ate molasses, bread and butter and milk in wooden bowls and crumbled our
bread up in it. Old master had big smokehouses of meat. Dey ate chickens,
possums and coons, and my old auntie would barbecue rabbits for de white folks.
We ate ash cakes too.
I washed dishes, swept de yard, and kept de yard clean wid weed brush brooms. I
never earned no money. All de slaves had gardens, and chickens too. My auntie,
dey let her have chickens of her own and she raised chickens, and had a chicken
house and garden down in de woods. I remember in time of de war dey'd send me
down in de woods to pick up chips and git wood. All de men had gone to de army.
One morning and t'was cold dey sent me down in de woods and my hands got
frostbitten. All de skin come off and dey had to tie my hands up in roasted
turnips. Sallie she had gloves, and
didn't get frostbitten. After my old master died, Master
Donnahue was his name, his old son-in-law come to take over de
plantation. He was mean, but my sister whipped him. We had no nigger driver or
overseer. We raised wheat, corn and vegetables, not much cotton, jest enough to
spun de clothes out of. At night when we'd go to our cabins we'd pick cotton
from de seeds to make our clothes. Boys and girls alike wore dem long shirts
slit up de side nearly to your necks, They'd have cornshuckings sometimes all
night long. You see I didn't have no mother, no father, nobody to lead me,
teach me'or tell me, and so jest lived with anybody was good enough to let me
stay and done what they did. They'd have log rollings, with all de whiskey dey
could drink.
I remember going to church, de Methodist Church dey call it. We used to sing
dis song and I sho did like it too;I went down in de valley to pray,
Studying dat good old way." I been
a Christian long before most of dese young niggers was born. My other favorites
are
"Must Jesus bear This Cross
Alone." And ",The Consecrated Cross I'll Bear 'til, Death Shall Set
Me Free, Yea, There's a Crown for Everyone, And There's a Crown for Me. Yes
Lawd, there sho is day a nigger killed one of his master's shoats and he catch him and when
he'd ask him, "What's that you got there?" The nigger said, "a
possum." De master said, "Let me see." He looked and seen it was
a shoat. De nigger said, "Master it may be a shoat now, but it sho was a
possum while ago when I put 'im in dis sack."
Dey didn't whip our folks much, but one day I saw a overseer on another place.
He staked a man down with two forked sticks 'cross his wrist nailed in de
ground and beat him half to death with a hand saw 'til it drawed blisters. Den
he mopped his back wid vinegar, salt and pepper. Sometimes dey'd drop dat hot
rosin from pine knots on dose blisters.
When de Yanks come, business took place. I remember white folks was running and
hiding, gitting everything dey could from de Yanks. Dey hid dey jewelry and
fine dishes and such. Dose Yanks had on big boots. Dey'd drive up, feed dey
hosses from old Master's corn, catch dey chickens, and tell old Master's cook
to cook 'em, and they'd shoot down old Master's hogs and skin 'em.
De Yanks used to make my nephew drunk, and have him sing
"I'll be God O'Mighty
God Dammed if I don't
Kill a nigger,
Oh Whooey boys! Oh Whooey!
Oh Whooey boys! Oh Whooey!"
I don't remember never seeing no funerals. Jest took 'em off and buried 'em. I
remember dat old Master's son-in-law dat my sister whipped, he called hisself a
doctor and he killed Aunt Clo. Give her
some medicine but he didn't know what he was doing and killed her. I married William Young and we had a pretty good wedding.
Married in Crittington County Arkansas. When I left Tennessee and went to
Arkansas I followed some hands. You know after de war dey immigrated niggers
from one place to another. I owned a good farm in Arkansas. I came out here
some 42 years ago.
I have three daughters. Mattie Brockins
runs a rooming house in Kansas City. Jessie Cotton,
lives right up de street here. Osie Olla Anderson
is working out in North town. Well I think Abraham
Lincoln is more than a type a man than Moses.
I believe he is a square man, believe in union that every man has a right to be
a free man regardless to color. He was a republican man. Don't know much 'bout Jeff Davis but I think Booker T. Washington was a pretty good man. He's a right good
man I guess, but he is dead ain't he? I
can remember once my auntie's old Master tried to have her and she run off out
in de woods and when he put those blood hounds or nigger hounds on her trail he
catched her and hit her in de head wid something like de stick de police carry,
and he knocked a hole in her head and she bled like a hog, and he made' her
have him. She told her mistress, and mistress told her to go ahead and be wid
him 'cause he's gonna kill you. And he had dem two women and she had some
chillun nearly white, and master and dey all worked in de fields side by
side."
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