Free Chasing Freedom by Gloria Ann Wesley Page A

and that’s what this place is to us, the first place where we are free after slavery.” She turned to Grandmother and nodded her head.
    â€œThe names are beautiful and fitting,” Sarah said.
    Grandmother leaned in and stretched out her arms.
    Beulah placed a tiny baby on each of Grandmother’s palms. The old woman held both babies up, high up into the air.
    â€œBless this child, Destiny, and this child, Prince. They are born out of slavery. Born here to become a free man and a free woman in Nova Scotia. That is the gift to these children. For this blessing, we give thanks. Amen.” Grandmother put the babies down beside their mama. With a scattering of water from a mug, she sprinkled their foreheads. She grinned proudly and her skin glistened as though the Rapture had caught her up. Sarah wondered what else she would say. She wondered if the old woman would dance—delight in the highest expression of joy.
    â€œWe are rich, Beulah. So rich. We got gold, Sarah.” Grandmother sounded almost delirious.
    Sarah grabbed the old woman and swung her around gently. “This day has brought wonderful blessings!”
    â€œWill you stay for a bite to eat?” Fibby asked. She brought out the small mugs and filled them with pale yellow tea. “Bread and moose meat,” she said, “The meat is from the Mi’kmaq, Joseph Joe, who camps down by the river. I helped deliver his son awhile back. We sure could use some fixings to go with it, but we will make do.”
    After eating, Grandmother snuggled the bundles against her breasts as though she had given birth to the twins herself. Her joy was real, but so were the tiny tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes and the soft moans that surfaced from a place buried deep. But Lydia being Lydia, she veiled her feelings and did what she always did to ease her despair—she belted out another hymn.

Ten
    I T WAS A GOOD END TO A LONG WORKDAY. AS THE SUN set, it spread bright ribbons of orange, gold and red along the horizon. In Birchtown, the trails and paths were deserted. All was quiet, but for the uproar coming through the walls of the partly constructed meeting house.
    The indentured Negroes from Roseway, who regularly fled their cruel and cheating employers to seek the safety of Birchtown, had gathered to voice their concerns. With much shouting and fist waving, they were letting Colonel Black know they were tired of the continued hostility and unfairness of the white settlers. It was a rowdy gathering. Lydia and Sarah stood at the back observing the ruckus.
    Harris Clark, a carpenter, said that when some tresses fell on him and injured his back, he received only half of the pay he deserved for the time he worked. Priscilla Hayward complained that her employer turned her out with no pay or provisions from the King’s Bounty and refused to pay what he owed her. Thomas Wheaton alleged that he had to use his wages to pay for the rations his employer received for him and for tools to do his work. Hagar Primus found herself hired out to other citizens without her permission.
    And so it went. The list of injustices continued: beaten for disobedience, forced to serve extended time through false contracts, sentenced to hard labour or shackled in leg irons for neglecting assigned work and even starved for displeasing behaviour. Public whippings and hangings were issued for theft of the smallest items like shoes or butter, indentures were being passed on in wills illegally and children stolen.
    At the front of the room, Colonel Black listened graciously, letting them speak their minds well into the night, promising that he would take the matter before the local justices of the peace. But this enraged the crowd further. Many had already appealed to the General Sessions Court and local magistrates for justice, only to be ignored. Taking matters into their own hands, the angry gathering settled on a course of action: A march through Roseway, as