A Member of Palmares

Map of southern Africa and Angola when slavery was the topic of the world.

I do not know the exact date, but it has been approximately ten years since I have moved to Palmares. It does not seem as if it has been that long. Yet, it has been a much better ten years than where I was previously. In 1670 I moved to where I am currently in Brazil and where I met my husband; we now have three children. I lived somewhere to the north of Palmares. It is difficult to think about those times. When I was a little girl, I was sent from my birthplace in Africa, Luanda, Angola. It was one of the scariest times in my life. I was not able to comprehend what was happening. The Portuguese in Angola put many of us Angolans on an enormous ship. It was in horrible conditions. They hardly fed us or gave us any water. I just remember sitting below the main deck, always thinking about where we were going and what was going to happen. I had no idea how long the journey was going to be or if we would even die. Death was something I was becoming immune to in many ways. I left Angola and landed in Brazil with my mother, father, and my older brother. It did not take long for my brother to die of some European disease. By the time I left for Palmares, my mother and father were both dead.

We finally arrived to our destination, the area in which I would spend the next seven years pondering the idea of escape or perhaps death: Rio Grande do Norte. Someone once told me that around 500 Angolans arrived into Brazil in one day. I was one of those 500. It was almost immediately that everyone was placed with a family. If I thought the long voyage across the large blue sea was difficult, I did not know what to expect becoming what they called a “slave” for a family. At that time I was twelve years old. I was forced to work on sugar farms. It was expected to get as much done as quickly as possible. Yet, they would force us to work from sunrise to sunset; in many times I counted eighteen hours of straight work, with hardly any food: a little bread. It was a saying that “slaves” only needed three things: a little bread for energy, a little cloth to cover ourselves, and a stick so our masters could beat us.

A slave being whipped by a club on the hand

There is a painting of my father being whipped with a club by our master. That was just one instance of many in which I can remember. It is not difficult to forget those moments; however, these moments were so frequent, they almost seem an everyday occurrence. That day was such a hot day as were most. We were all working around the house and my father in the field. I remember him coming inside with our master behind him furious! There was no way this old, brusque man could have been stopped from doing anything. How come they treated us so poor? We were objects to them. My father was forced onto his knees to put his hand out. Our master hit him with the club on the palm of his hand as hard as he could many times. My father was only lucky the club did not hit him anywhere else.

For seven years I lived life like this. I had heard my mother and father talk about escaping to this community called Palmares. At last, we started to plan an escape. It was an enormous risk; if we attempted to do something like this we could be killed. It didn’t matter though; it was a few days before we had planned to run away, when my mother and father were both murdered outside by some soldiers. I did not see anything, but heard the screaming. I couldn’t believe what was happening. That is what caused me to eventually find my way to Palmares: in search for a better life.

Since arriving to this quilombo that we call it, life has been much better. Palmares is a place in which many slaves have escaped to. I married my husband, who is of the indigenous population here in Brazil. We have three children. Here I feel more able to express my culture, my Angolan culture. We like to call Palmares, “angola janga” which means the little Angola. Although, I do feel life is an improvement here in angola janga, I still worry for my family and my children especially. From news that our community collects, there are still many slaves coming into Brazil. I do not want my children to experience anything similar to what I had become familiar with. That does not mean I think life is easy here. I only wake up every day thankful that I do not have to worry about being whipped and beaten by my master.

Hannah Kass-Aten

Pictures:

Debret, John B. Boutique de cordonnie. 1834. Lithographs – hand-colored. New York Public Library Digital Gallery. Web. 25 Feb 2011.

Harris, John H. Map of Africa. 1912. Photomechanical print. New York Public Library Digital Gallery. Web. 25 Feb. 2011.