The diary of a black man: The living

1887 April 15

Dear Diary:

Today I left my family to go work on the mines, my boy screamed and cried as I left, his tears ran like a waterfall on a misty day and my wife…my wife I miss her most of all her eyes swelled with salty water. The morning was quick and unforgiving I miss the long conversations with my wife and son. They gave me overalls and told me where my new home was. There was no privacy and I heard there had been many deaths. The beds were small and the room packed with only men, men like me some following the dream, some being forced by change its hard to believe these people are going to basically be my new family. The day was fast and I was introduced to the mines I wonder what mystery’s this new place holds for me I will just have to see tomorrow

1887 April 16

Dear diary

I woke up expecting a kiss from my wife and a hug from my son, instead I saw 8 people getting ready for work. I began to get ready when this piece of cloth fell from my overalls, I felt the tears gauging through my eyes wanting to just flow when two delicate drops came across my cheek and I remember my boy giving to this me after I sang him a song “oooooh child things are going to get easier ooooooh child things are ganna brighter” he’s going to be a great man one day. I remember walking to work, I was just walking past a few white men when they started to kick dirt at me, spat in my face and began to laugh, I just thought this is for my family I’ll do what I need even if it means letting the white man walk over me. The mines were somewhat scary, they seemed to like this dirty looking rock that was yellowish in colour, the work was difficult and intense but I enjoyed it we sang songs and told stories.

1887 April 17 morning

I woke up feeling nauseas and I have a terrible headache I think it’s from the green bread, it didn’t look fresh either, I have no more drive I feel like there’s no point to my life like I work the whole day to just so this again and again is this living or just surviving, I don’t think I can go on any longer I see no end, maybe just maybe

1887 April 17 evening

They striped me; oh it was my own fault I thought maybe if I could sell some of that valued mineral I could leave and me and my family could live happily. They whipped me over and over the leather rope lashed at my skin ripping it apart I’m scared, I don’t know if I’m entering a diary session or praying to god, whatever happens tomorrow don’t tell the story of my foolishness but tell the story of my family tell them I love them, if anything tell them… I'm sorry