Prologue
Atlanta, Georgia. This is where I have lived my entire life, as a slave. Day in and day out since I was four years old, I have lived to serve those above me. I was born into slavery on May 22, 1831, and this is all I have known. My name is Munira, which means radiant., but I have never felt so. All my life I have been constantly reminded that I am the absolute opposite, nothing—no more important than the dirt beneath my feet. Even now, twenty years later, this has not changed. Although, my mother Awena always told me this was not true.
“Munira, you are as radiant as the sun. You shine like no one else and don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise,” she would say to me. But I am positive my parents were the only people who saw me this way.
The work I do is not as terrible as that of the other slaves. I see them outside in the Georgia heat, toiling in the fields as my father Kiume did when I was little. I see them working plantations in the dust with hardly any food or drink, and if they falter they are whipped, sometimes to within an inch of death. So in this aspect at least, I suppose I have some reason to be thankful. I work around my master’s house, cleaning and fetching whatever the members of the household ask for. I suppose I only do this type of work because my body build is on the small side, so there is not much I could do out on the plantations. But I am ordered around as if I am not even human, treated horribly, and my living conditions are terrible. I am now lonely as well, for I was sold away to a different master and separated from my parents when I was twelve years old.
So, although it is true that I might be luckier than other slaves, I cannot continue on this way anymore. I want to have a life of freedom, one where I am not someone’s property and where I see others enslaved and sold like animals. There is nothing left for me here after all; I do not even know if my parents are alive or dead. So tonight, I plan to make my escape. I know that it is a risk, but I am going to take it. For years I have been shy and living in fear, never questioning what I am told to do and remaining in my place. No more. For a while now I have been filled with a burning passion, a passion for freedom. I am determined to leave this awful life behind and taste freedom, no matter the cost.
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The first night of my escape, I was filled with dread. What if I was caught? What if I never even made it out of the state? These questions plagued my mind the entire night, along with many others. Every whisper through the trees, every creaking branch, every rustle of the leaves made me jump. And there were plenty of these disturbances, considering I had fled into the woods.
At least I had some companionship, though. A man who was also a slave under my master had decided to escape with me. His name was Levi Johnson, and he was twenty-three years old. He, too, had been separated from his parents at an early age and had nothing left to stay for. We had both deemed the journey to freedom too treacherous to make alone. So we figured that since we both wanted to escape, why not escape together? Levi and I also knew what we were up against, for we had done some digging around before we left. We could not escape to a state such as Philadelphia or Delaware, because there were slave hunters in the northern states that looked for runaways, and we could easily be recaptured and sold back into slavery. Obviously, we could not risk this. We had to escape all the way up to Canada. Levi and I had decided on St. Catharine’s, Canada as our final destination. Fortunately, there would be assistance on this dangerous trek. There was word going around about the Underground Railroad—a series of houses that were resting places, safe havens if you will, for fugitive slaves to help them reach freedom. The people in these houses sheltered slaves for a night or two, and they were completely against slavery. Many of them were Quakers and white abolitionists.
“Are you alright?” Levi questioned, shaking me from my thoughts. Apparently the fear had shown across my face more plainly than I had thought.
“Oh, never better,” I replied sarcastically as we walked cautiously in the night.
Levi grinned. For the first time, I examined him closely. His ebony skin was a stark comparison to his startlingly white teeth. It was unusual for slaves to have teeth like his, due to the lack of available hygiene. His dark eyes were vastly different from my own light brown, hazel eyes. While my hair hung around my shoulders, his was extremely short. Levi’s voice pitch was low and smooth, matching his body build. He was very muscular and tall; he had worked on the plantation.
We walked the rest of the night in silence, finally coming to a stop when we saw dawn approaching. We had to travel at night and rest during the day because the risk of being seen was too great. We stopped underneath a tree and concealed ourselves among the lush shrubs and foliage. As I lay there beside Levi, I looked up at the fading stars and watched the sky change slowly into pinks, purples, and oranges. Then, I drifted to sleep, retreating into the realms of my mind, where I was already free.
The next few nights were repeated in this monotonous pattern, although we were tense and anxious the whole time. Bit by bit, we were becoming extremely worn. It became harder to go on, and all of our muscles ached with fatigue. I could not shake the fear that we seemed to be being followed, and conditions were growing worse. I cannot remember a time in my life when I was more afraid. We made small attempts at conversation, but these ended quickly. Levi and I were both too wrapped up in our own thoughts and worries to contribute much.
Then, finally, we spotted a small house with a lantern on the porch in the distance. Neither of us knew why, but we had a hunch that this house was part of the Underground Railroad and was a safe place to stop. Timidly, we walked up to the door and knocked. We knew that everything was riding on this decision, but we were weary, thirsty, and starving. If we didn’t find food and water soon we would collapse.
A fatherly looking, somewhat pudgy man opened the door, and a kindly smile slowly spread across his face.
“Hello, there! My name is Dennis Richard,” he announced. A small, brown-haired woman with deep blue eyes walked up behind him. “And this is my wife, Martha Richard,” he said, motioning towards her.
“Hello,” she waved cheerily.
“Please, do come in. We’ve got some warm food and clean water inside. In the back of the house, we have a room with a few beds for you. You can wash up as well.” Dennis added.
Levi and I walked through the doorway, relieved. There was a blazing fire in the den, to which Martha added another log as she passed by. Dennis and Martha led us to a table in their homely kitchen and pulled up some chairs for us. It was very cozy inside, and the change in temperature felt extremely nice. They gave us hot rolls to eat and refreshing water.
“So, where are you two from?” Dennis inquired.
“Atlanta, Georgia,” Levi answered between mouthfuls of bread.
“They must be completely exhausted from traveling, the poor things!” Martha exclaimed in a high voice.
“We are indeed very tired from the journey. I don’t even know how we can possibly repay you for—” I began.
“Nonsense!” Dennis interrupted. “There will be no repaying me for doing what everybody should for his fellow man. Now, I’m sure you two will want to get some rest and some fresh clothes after you wash. So we won’t keep you any longer. Down the hall you will find the bedroom I mentioned, and there is a closet next to it containing clothes. Take whatever you need. On the door to the right of the closet, there is a washroom. So go on! Rest up! We will send word to the houses up ahead that you are coming.”
“Th-th-thank you so much,” Levi and I stuttered in gratitude.
Martha smiled and ushered us to the back of the house. After I washed and dressed myself, I sank onto one of the soft beds, in total ecstasy. I could not recall the last time that I had felt this comfortable. After a while Levi walked in, clean and dressed in a different set of clothes. He flopped onto the bed next to mine.
“Feels pretty great, huh?” he sighed in contentment.
“Extremely,” I agreed.
“Aren’t you glad that we decided to stop here?” Levi said, with his eyes closed.
“You have no idea,” I answered.
“You know what?” he propped himself on one elbow and turned to face me. He sucked in his breath, and then continued in a rush, “I’ve been thinking, and when we get to St. Catharine’s, I think that we should find a place together. Things are going to be hard enough trying to start a new life, and it might make things easier.” He looked at me expectantly.
I thought for a minute before I responded. If all truth be told, I had been thinking the same thing, but of course I hadn’t told Levi this. It felt good to know that he had been thinking along the same lines as I had.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I said to him.
A smile of relief spread across his chiseled face. “We should get some rest,” he said softly, lying back down on his pillow. “We’ve still got quite a ways ahead of us, and we don’t know when we might sleep this well again.”
“Definitely,” I concurred. My eyes closed and I fell into a peaceful slumber.
The next night we set out right after twilight, thanking the Richards yet again for their hospitality. We felt relaxed and rejuvenated, and started off at a brisk pace. For a while, things seemed to be going all right. Then, I heard a long howl in the distance. I stopped abruptly and shot a glance at Levi. He was looking around wildly.
“Did you hear that?” I asked him in a barely audible whisper.
“That definitely cannot be good,” he murmured. The howl sounded again, closer this time. Suddenly, understanding shot across Levi’s face, and panic set in his eyes.
“They’ve caught our scent!” he cried.
“What?” I responded, confused.
“The slave hunters have got dogs! And they’ve captured our scent! Run!” he yelled.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was off, my hair whipping behind me in the cool night air with Levi beside me. We were sprinting at full speed, but the dogs’ cries were relentless behind us. Up ahead, I saw something glittering in the moonlight. As we drew closer, I saw that it was a river. Automatically, I began to lose my nerve, for I was certain this would slow us down and it would be the end. But Levi had quite a different take on the situation.
“Quick, swim across. As fast as you can!” Levi called to me.
“This is going to slow us down!” I yelled back at him.
“No!” he answered. “This is good! Once we swim across, the dogs will lose our scent in the water.”
I realized that he was right, and I jumped into the gushing river. It was colder than I expected, and there was a fast current, another thing I had not anticipated. I began to sputter and cough, trying to pull air into my lungs. Although I knew how to swim, the current was too strong for my small body. I felt myself begin to go under. Then, I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and haul me up. Levi tightened his grip on me, and began to swim as hard as he could toward the opposite shore. It was at this point that I thanked my lucky stars for escaping with him. I knew that he had saved my life. I also began to feel something—shivers running up and down my spine. And I was pretty sure that they had nothing to do with the cold.
We reached the shore and Levi stepped out of the water, keeping a firm grip on me until we reached the cover of the trees after a few minutes of running. The dogs’ wails slowly grew distant and finally became muted. He then set me down on the forest floor.
“That…was…really…close,” Levi panted, doubled over and holding a stitch in his side.
I stared up at him in amazement, still in my sitting position. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be done for right now.”
“D-d-don’t worry…about it,” he responded. He sat down near me to regain his breath.
I didn’t know what else I could say, so I simply kept staring at him for a while. I’m sure that he felt my gaze on him, but he never said a word. After he was breathing normally again, we got up and kept jogging away from the river, only slowing to a stop when we saw the first signs of morning approaching.
The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully, and we made a few more stops at houses like the Richards’ where we could rest. Things were going extremely well. By now, most slaves would have either been captured or encountered a lot more trouble than we had. We were even lucky enough to get passage in a wagon from a Quaker for a week, and this allowed us to cover much more land than on foot. When the Quaker dropped us off, he was kind enough to tell us that we were in the state of New York. He also told us that we could probably reach the border in about a night and a half’s walk or so. Levi and I rejoiced at this news, for it meant that we were extremely close to freedom.
“You know,” the Quaker said to us, “I think you two have a really good shot at reaching Canada. When I stopped to offer you a ride, you were really booking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two fugitives going as fast as you have. Normally they’re completely worn out by this point and just barely walking. You’ve got stamina, I’ll give you that.”
I was surprised, as was Levi. We hadn’t even noticed that we had been going fast. I figured that it must have been the drive for freedom. But whatever it was, it had definitely worked to our advantage. That night, we were so excited that we half jogged, half ran the entire way. We covered the night and a half’s journey in one. When we figured we must have been nearing the Canadian border, we saw another wagon with other fugitive slaves surrounding it. They looked up at our approach and smiled at us. They motioned for us to come over, and we did.
“Congratulations!” one of them said. “Rejoice, for this wagon is taking everyone here over the border tomorrow morning!”
Levi and I looked at one another for a moment, and when the truth set in we grabbed each other and exulted. We were going to be free.
A little before dusk the next day, we stepped out of the wagon and stretched. Then, we took in our surroundings. Levi pulled me close and whispered, “We made it—we’re free…”
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