The account of Qlaudah Equiano is so many things, but
particularly sorrowful, eye-opening and unfathomable. Prior to the reading, I
was unaware how children were often kidnapped into slavery by neighboring
African groups. Indeed, this is dreadful and so difficult to imagine how a
youngster, like Qlaudah, must have felt growing up. It’s as if living in a
constant state of fear was a normal part of life. Then when he was ripped from
his family first, then of course later from his sister that state of fear
seemed be a perpetual theme and thread of his experiences/existence. When he
describes being torn from his sister “while we clasped in each other’s arms”
was nothing short of heart-wrenching. Because they were children makes this
scenario even sadder.
It is interesting to note the difference in the treatment he
received from the African slave owners versus the European white counterparts.
Indeed he suffered through some terrorizing experiences from the former, I
definitely wouldn’t want to negate or minimize those experiences, yet overall
it appears that he was treated considerably better by the African slave masters
than when he later became a slave of the European whites. Qlaudah even mentions
at one point how the African slave owners generally didn’t inflict harm upon
slaves, other than tying those down who made efforts to escape (but also they
did separate him from his sister and he refers to them as “destroyers of human
rights). Here is one example that
illustrates the treatment provided by the African slave owners: after the inadvertent
killing of the chicken incident, Qlaudah thought he would be severely punished,
but instead was “slightly reprimanded “and was cared for without being flogged.
Had this been a white European slave master, his punishment would have been
decidedly much more grim/brutal. Another example of the kind of treatment he
received from the African slave masters pertained to his experience working for
the wealthy widow. There he was permitted to not only eat with her and her son,
but the son, out of respect, wouldn’t eat until young Qlaudah had eaten first.
He also played games with the widow’s son, making it sound as if he was almost
treated like an equal. He even referred to what sounded like other slaves who
served him and the other boy.
It is incredible to learn about all of the different
cultural groups and environments that Qlaudah was exposed to. Even within his
own country he describes many different areas and groups of people. I love how
he relates his initial reactions when encountering these groups and settings.
When he was at the widow’s home he was exposed to a seemingly picturesque part
of Africa; where he got to taste coconuts and sugarcane for the first time. He
seemed to have been in such awe of his surroundings there; it sounds like it
was lovely. Then later he describes the very different group of people who
appeared rather shocking to him. They used iron pots, had different weapons
than he’s seen, had different social mores. They had a distinct way of
embellishing themselves that Qlaudah felt was disfiguring. When you consider
his whole experience it is just so unimaginable—not only the constant fear I
mentioned before but also the continual changes that had to be so stressful.
And the culture shock!
On a final thought, his account of his entering the European
slave-owners’ ships is so horrific and sickening (and a bunch of other things
that are indescribable). One of the most hideous was how slaves were deprived
of their own right to even kill themselves. Slave owners would watch to ensure
that slaves wouldn’t attempt to willingly drown themselves. And if they even
tried such an action, they’d be severely beaten.
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