Cobblestones Home : Colonial Lives : Diary of Kofi

April 25, 1780

I saw the worst thing today; there were slaves who were hung by their thumbs. If animals or humans died the other crew members would have to eat the liver and heart.

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February 21, 1780
    Today my Uncle Kobo lied to me or his friends lied to him (my Uncle told me they are friends). We were at home having our normal day when white men started coming on horses trying to kidnap us. Kobo told us we were going to a special place and that we could come back soon. As we were being taken away my mother and my sister were screaming and crying. Uncle Kobo pushed them inside of the house and told them to calm down and be quiet.

    Kobo told me to wear a necklace that was a black slave necklace so I would look like everyone else that was going to the special place. The necklace made it hard to move and was very heavy. A big man, nearly 25 years old, named Abeeku came to help me walk. We played a game to see who could walk the farthest without getting tired.

    We came to a huge house made of stone. We went down a big dark hole under the building. In the hole that smelt rotten, a lot of people were fighting and yelling. A few minutes later some white men came down and started hitting everyone. I was so scared. I tried to stay as far away from the white men as possible.

March 31, 1780

    I have been staying close to Abeeku lately. One day Abeeku started crying because he missed home and did not’t like it here at all, so I started crying too. A while later, a smelly white man took us to this place that also was dark and it was scary. I was afraid to go with him, but Abeeku was there so I wasn't as scared as I would have been if I were alone. We went on this big wooden boat. My eyes hurt and my knees were stiff. The food was good except for the crunchy pieces of rice that had bugs all through it because it was leftover food. Abeeku helped me eat the food that was left over. The best thing about today is that it is my 13th birthday! I am really happy about it. My other family members are not’t here
so I am really sad that I can’t celebrate with them.

April 25, 1780

    I saw the worst thing today; there were slaves who were hung by their thumbs. If animals or humans died the other crew members would have to eat the liver and heart. Today a white man walked near all of us and everyone started yelling, screaming, and trying to hit the white man. Sometimes they would yell and scream and actually hit him, and the white men would sometimes whip them sometimes even to DEATH! Yesterday, I saw a black man hide and break a white man’s tools. Last week, another slave was so mad at the white master the slave killed the master and his family. In revenge another white men whipped him to death. I was so scared that I tried to stay as far away from the white people as I could. There was a man in our bunk room that killed himself. Since we were on a boat, the white men threw the dead body over board. I thought it would be better if we said some kind words such as he was a nice man but the white men seem careless and do not think about anyone but themselves.

May 29, 1780

    I overheard the slave masters having a conversation next to our bunk room. A white woman named Deborah Sampson was in the war, a war that only allowed men.

She was one of eight brothers and sisters and her father left the family on a boat out to sea and he was never seen again. Then her mother could not feed her brothers and sisters so they moved to live with other family members and close friends to the family. To join the war, Deborah dressed up as a man and was believed. During the war she was wounded and she got a bullet in her leg. She only let them heel the wound and she took the bullet from her leg by herself. Once her identity was discovered, she became a teacher. Then she became a teacher. That is what I heard from the white men. I hope I can do something like that to help and influence a lot of people, but my skin color may never allow it.

June 25, 1780 1767

    Now I have just found out that Kobo sold me to the white men I did not’t have to come here. I cannot believe my Uncle would do that to me I was only 12 when it happened. I cannot believe this!

    I should go now I will write in my journal soon when the white men stop coming around as much.    They think I’m trying to hide something because they don't know I have a journal. When they get near my journal when they come around and check if we have a crude weapon or a way to get out of this horrible place, I try to hide it even more. I do this because I do not want the white men to take it from me. It is against the law for slaves to know how to read and write. If they find out that I know how to do both of them, I will be whipped, probably to death. I want people to read my journal, one day, after I die, so they will know what all of us slaves have gone through. Perhaps, someday, my grandchildren will be free.

Epilogue:

Kofi passed away in 1820 when she was 53. She died of old age because average slaves only live to 30 years old. Her story was read and she has become a famous person who was a slave. She has made a difference it other peoples lives because of what she went through. Now slavery has become illegal with some of her help and with some of the other slaves.

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