Indianapolis Recorder, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 November 2005 — Page 6

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A SECTION FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2005 The Recorder JAWS section (Journalism and Writing Seminars) Is a nonprofit instructional program established through The Recorder Charities to provide students of color (interns) hands on training and exposure to the field of journalism- The goal is to encourage participants to pursue careers in journalism.

Following the North Star to freedom

By Dorian Howard Lawrence North High School Recorder Intern

Conner Prairie's Follow the North Star is a great

experience for both young and old. Follow the North Star is so realistic and actually makes you wonder how slaves survived all the beatings and disrespect from the white man. Conner Prairie took us back to when slaves were only free in certain states. We were the slaves and we had to escape with others to a free state. We were never to look at our masters or any white person. To them it was disrespectful. "Keep your chin on your chest," they would tell us. We were to always keep our heads down no matter what. We were divided into two groups. The men were considered "bucks" and the women were "breeders." The men mainly did cattle and we were to cook and do whatever it was that they told us to do. "What are you good for," the white men would ask me. I would answer, "Anything you want me to do, sir. " Although none of my answers was good enough I still had to respond to every question that they asked me. One man told us to line up and follow him. He took me to the front of the line and led us to some wood. He then made me stand in front of the wood and yell "Move the wood!" to the other slaves while the women carried it to one spot and the men brought it back to the same spot they had started at. I felt bad that they were carrying the heavy wood back and forth while I got to stand there and yell at them. Yelling at everyone wasn't fun because I had to keep repeating myself. They would separate us like that so the other slaves would get mad at me for not having to carry the wood with them. This was often done in many other ways to separate us. Our masters didn't want us to be friends or have any kind of bond with each other. The white men left us yelling and carrying the wood when two white ladies came out and told us to put it down and to stop making so much noise. The two ladies led us into a barn and gave us information about where to go for help to get free. The ladies weren't all that kind to us and really didn't want to help us. They quickly told us what we had to know and sent us on our way. The ladies told us to be careful whom we trusted and told us about the signs for people that can help us. A red bandana on a tree or a candle in the window meant that they were good people that could help us with

our escape. We also had to be careful with people that seemed to want to help but really wanted to take us or kill us. After leaving the barn we were sent on our way but was stopped by a white man. The man demanded for us to circle around the fire. The man told us that we were just a bunch of low lives and that we, Black people, were the reason his wife was dead. The man told us to stay where we were and that he would be back, but when he turned his back we ran. A couple other slaves and I fell but managed to get up and keep going. If one of our slaves was to fall or get caught we were to leave them behind. We all knew that every slave was for himself and it was better for one of us to get caught than all of us. After running for a long time we were all very exhausted. We came to a house with a candle in the window. One of the slaves went up to the door and told them that a friend of a friend sent them. That was what we had to say to them when they opened the door. It was kind of like a password to get help. The people fed us cornbread and told us where we needed to go. They told us to follow the North Star to freedom. We all walked until we finally came to a Black woman's house. It was good for us slaves to be in a house with a Black woman so that if someone came to the house, they wouldn't know that we were runaways because we would blend in. I was so relieved to see someone of my own kind. It gave me confidence that I could be free just like her. Seeing her gave me hope and made me more determined to escape to be free. The lady led us to a path and told us to follow the road. We followed the road until we came to a white lady's house. The lady was a prophet and she told each of us what was going to happen to us. I was relieved to know that I was going to escape to the North and be free, but for some of the other slaves that wasn't the case. Some ended up drowning and others were caught and sent back. By the end of my journey I was happy to know that I was free but then realized that for most slaves, that wasn't the case. Maybe for them they would get free on the second try or maybe they wouldn't even get a chance at a second try. This was a wonderful experience for me. It made me realize exactly how badly Black people were treated and how we came from nothing to something. Follow the North Star is something that I think everyone should experience. It takes you back in time and you become the slave. You go through so many different emotions while on your journey, but at the end you feel like you have achieved something. You feel like you're free.

RISING AGAINST ALL ODDS

By Cristen Moore Bishop Chatard High School Recorder Intern

It was a cool crisp November night with a wind that had a brisk chill. Yet the chill that was in the air was no match for the chill that was going down my spine. I was in a position that not many would want to find themselves. I was a slave trying to escape on the Underground Railroad. The uncertainty that lay behind every corner was magnified even more by the dark blanket covering the sky. What was around the corner? Was it a friend of a friend, a slave catcher? A million thoughts were running through my mind. Should I run? Was it worth it? I was on an emotional rollercoaster. I was scared of the uncertain, excited for the possibility of freedom, exhausted both physically and mentally from the journey, and yet I was still determined. Determined to get what rightfully belongs to any human being, freedom. Though it was taking a toll on me both physically and mentally, I was probably experiencing only one fourth of what an actual slave felt on the real Underground Railroad. "Get your eyes down, get on your knees!" Yells surrounded me from all directions. Every word was said with the sole intention to bring me down and make me feel like a low life. The thing that bothered me the most was that it worked. Each word echoed inside my head and caused anger that I never knew existed to rise up within me. I was tired, I was cold, my body was aching, and someone was yelling

at me as if I was nothing better than the scum they scrape off their shoe. My ancestors endured this? Day after day, night after night? How? It was those moments that caused me to realize just how strong my ancestors really were. Here I was with a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and comfortable tennis shoes on and, yet I was being pushed to the limit. I could not even bear an actor yelling at me and insulting my intelligence. My ancestors ran through the rain, the snow, waded through rivers and were wearing less than what we would call clothes. Most of them probably did not even have socks on let alone shoes. They were separated from their husbands, their wives, and their children never knowing if their paths would cross again. They were chased by dogs, hid in barns, went for days without food, yet they still survived. As the men yelled and as I ran through the dark night I was encouraged by the thought of

how many of my ancestors had survived. In my head I could see my ancestors crossing the border from the South into the North and I could softly hear my ancestors chanting: "Did you want to see me broken? Bowed and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling like tear drops. Weakened by your soulful cries? You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise (Maya Angelou)." And rise they did. And as I took part in this experience I felt like I too rose. I felt apart of their struggle. I like to think that I shared in their pain, their freedom. So that chill that I felt was it just from the wind? No, it was from my ancestors, from their struggle. It is the feeling that keeps me going everyday as I continue to rise. Everyday I live not only for me, but for what my ancestors fought for. At times it is hard "but still, like air, I'll rise."

The struggle to freedom

By Oreanna Crain Arsenal Technical High School Recorder Intern Respect is the state of being regarded with honor or esteem, according to answers. com. Back in slavery days, Blacks were expected to respect white people at all times. Respect was when a Black person did not look at a white person. As we began our journey through the program this is the first lesson we were taught. We were ordered to get into a straight line. Were instructed to keep our heads down, chin to our

chest, and eyes on our feet. This made me feel like I was not good enough to look at a white person. Just as many slaves, I felt disrespected. I felt that I was nothing. A Black was to look down and get real acquainted with their feet. Looking down for an extensive time, my neck began to ache. The pain that I received from my neck moved down to my upper back. Although respect is what whites required Blacks to give, respect is not what they gave. Slaves were treated unfairly on a daily basis. Blacks had to do useless jobs. These useless jobs were to break them down. They were to turn them against their own kind as well. While in the life of a slave, I had to move pieces of wood from one

pile to another. The job was pointless because as the other slaves and I moved the wood, two other slaves put the wood back into a pile. It was the same pile we had just moved the wood from. Not all white people were for slavery. However, they refused to get caught helping slaves. At one part of the experience a white woman crammed us into her barn. As we got more acquainted with our feet, the woman spoke to us. She offered some useful information. The information informed us on how dangerous it was for us to be in that part of Indiana because our skin tone didn't fit in. When a slave looked up, she told her to look down. She said that she did not need to be looking around for something to steal.

There were some Blacks that were free. Some welcomed slaves on the run into their home. In this section of the experience we were not obligated to look at our feet. She displayed to us a map. The map showed us the way to go to be free, which was north. Free slaves too were cautious of getting caught. Before allowing us to leave her home, she peeked out the door. After making sure the coast was clear, we rushed out the home of the free slave. If caught by the wrong person with runaways, a person could lose everything they owned. This included their land. Although I had learned about slavery in school, I gained more knowledge with this experience. My body actually felt some of the emotions and physical stress a slave probably went through. Being yelled at by the white people made me feel small. Even if I wanted to, there was nothing I could have done to stop them from mistreating me without repercussion. As I ran through the woods, stopping was not an option. If I stopped that only increased the possibility of getting caught. Just as slaves, I could not just go to a nearby gas station and get some water. Instead I had to keep going and work for freedom.

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