Diary of a Haitian Male Rebel

Diary entry of Jack Johnson 

May 2, 1791: It is horrible here. I can't begin to tell you the pain I'm in. My hands have blisters on their blisters from working with the crops all day. I have very bad sun burn on the top of my head, since my master shaved off all my hair so I wouldn't get over heated. I'm hungry and thirsty all the time, because my master won't give us enough food. I share mine with the little ones so they have enough energy to last through the day. Then we are forced to sleep on the dirt floor of the our shack that doesn't keep any heat in during the winter. I was very lucky to even find this book. I don't know how long I can keep this up.

June 14, 1791: Earlier today I was in the field, as always, and I took a moment to catch my breath. I over heard some of the other workers talking about some sort of movement that was going on. Maybe there is some hope for us after all. I wasn't able to hear much more because my master started yelling at me and threatening me to get back to work. He came over and kicked my leg legs out from under me. Then when I was down he spat on my face. The other workers stopped talking about it and looked over at me that at the master with loathing eyes. I got up and wanted to kill him, but I have grow used to that feeling.

July 3, 1791: It's another day in hell for us. I've kept my ear out for anything about that movement, but I haven't heard anything. I even talked to the guy's that I over heard that day and they said that there wasn't anything to talk about. Apparently they haven't hear anything for quite some time as well. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while my fellow brothers and I are treated this way. I think that if there is any chance of there being a group of slaves banding together to fight this I want to help. I will escape tonight.

July 10, 1791: My great escape didn't go to well. I was only able to go a day without being caught by the police. They came up to me and without even asking weather I was free or not they just dragged me off. They brought back to my master. I don't remember much after that. I woke up almost a week later with bruises all over my body. Apparently my master beat me unconches. I wasn’t even given any time to heal. An hour after I woke up I was on that god dam field again. When I was free I saw that there are six times as many slaves as there are whites, if not more. If there is some sort of movement we might have a shot.

August 1, 1791: The roomers of a slave movement have grown stronger. Fellow workers are no longer in hushed tone, but louder and waiting in anticipation. My master has become paranoid of a rebellion. He has begun to put locks on our sheds at night and will not let us approach him, without him holding his gun. He has beat harder and with more force to try and prove that he is still in control. He has worn us ragged by making us work late into the night. He even make the children work harder than ever before. He thinks that if we are this tiered we will be in no condition to fight, but he is very wrong. All he has done, is make us want to fight him more. He tries not to speak of a rebellion in front of us, but it seems like there have been others that have fought for their freedom. We are not alone.

August 10, 1791: The was a slave rebellion in the field next to us. We could hear gun fire from ours. Before we could see anything our master locked us all up. We were let out of our shacks when it was all over. One of the slaves came over to our field to seeking refuge. We hid him from our master in our shack. When ever he would come to do a head count to see if anyone was missing he would hide around back. Our master never would have suspected that the was an extra head. Everyone had to give him a little of the food when supper came. In return he told us of how we could escape our masters clutches as well. We came up with many plans, but went with the one that let the most of us survive. We go through with it tomorrow night. Wish me luck.

August 25, 1791: Success, we escaped. Sorry I haven't written in a while I have been very busy. I have been living with a very large group of escaped slaves for the past couple of months. I had no idea that there were this many of us. We seem to vastly outnumber the whites. Together we fight to for our freedom. Many of us die every week, but for some of us, it is better than living in the world that the whites have created for us. My job is to go out as a scout and look for recruits. There have been many freed slaves that have offered to help out. They take in a couple of rebels and hid them from the police. They also feed us. One of our biggest problems is getting our hands on food. We are very under fed and it is slowing us down. It seems that the freed slaves are helping us, because they still don’t have it too good. White people still look down at you. You can only get some of the worst jobs out there, and still get payed next to nothing.