I Am Going to Town (page 6)

peace to you... but MY "soul" (i.e., spirit) didn't/doesn't like ALL of it. I've been twice, the second time to assist with the Katrina disaster (I was stationed in Gulfport, with a "territory" that included from Pass Christian to Biloxi). The first time, however, I went with my husband. I made the "mistake" of asking him to take me to see the Oaks Plantation (it's the one with the tree-lined drive up to the front door, shown in all of the postcards, ads, etc.). Don't ask my why I thought I wanted to go there; I guess I just wanted to "see" such a place, with my own eyes.

We first took a tour through the "Big House," but after awhile I had to leave. I was starting to feel, well, claustrophobic (didn't know why, at first) and my husband (who is Spanish/Mexican) turned and said to me, "She doesn't get it, does she?" He was speaking of our young and "perky" tourguide who was gushing over the lady of house's great parties, ballgowns, dishes, etc. The entire house tour was a kind of "Oooh, they lived like KINGS and shouldn't we all be envious?" kind of thing. But that wasn't bothering me (it bothered the heck out of my husband). I have to admit, I did feel sort of like a "traitor," but that wasn’t what was “bothering” me, either.

We left the house and went out to the grounds and walked around a bit. I could NOT put my finger on it but something was weighing me down - HEAVY. It was WEIRD. Not spooky weird, but, well, as I tried to explain to my husband, I just couldn't put it into words. Yet. We eventually came upon a "register" - a little wooden monument on the path that had a record of the Plantation's slaves. It consisted of columns showing their names, age, position (i.e., blacksmith), amount paid for them... and current worth. That didn't bother me, either. Actually, it was kind of fascinating.

But when I turned to leave that monument, the weirdness just, well… enveloped me. And then something happened: at that moment, I began to hear… and FEEL… oh my God, GREAT mourning. As I explained to my husband, I felt like I just wanted to sit down and cry... no, throw myself down on the earth and cry… for "them" (whoever it was I was hearing)... and it would be at least a 1,000 years before I could stop!

I mean, it was HEAVY. And so, I thought, at first, okay, a lot of loved ones were lost here. A lot of babies and children died, a lot of whippings, beatings, perhaps a lynching or two. Regular plantation stuff. You know, “Okay, some "bad" things have gone on here.” But no, it was even worse than that… as if something worse than the usual "bad" of slavery... had happened there. And the noise... and feeling... was coming from the EARTH! Everywhere I stepped... I could hear wailing and FEEL... my goodness… like the SADDEST mourning... some of the GREATEST grief... I could ever imagine. The only thing greater that I know of would be my Lord’s death. I mean, I have lost both my mother and father in death... and I grieved for them! Even then I felt nothing like this.

I told my husband that I needed to leave... I couldn’t breathe… that it was just TOO heavy and I couldn't bear it. I didn’t act out… I mean, I was actually extremely calm (because I just couldn’t give in to it!). But I thought that if I stayed there another second I would give in to it, and if I gave in to it... I wouldn't be able to stop... until I died. If I didn't die right then and there. So, we went back and just sat on the bus until the other tourists returned.

It was something I hope NEVER to experience again, and so I was a little apprehensive when we visited the cemetery. But… nothing there. Not even a whisper. Not so much as a peep. Nuthin. Stone cold… and dead quiet. Like the tombs. And I visit cemeteries all the time (I think some are quite beautiful, quiet, serene) and have never felt anything like that.

So, while I am looking forward to my next trip to New Orleans (we have a dear friend who just moved there and hope to go visit by summer 2010)… I have no desire to “see” another plantation. Just don’t think I can do it. But I will be ALL OVER the Quarter, up and down the St. Charles line, in and out of the shops, take a trip down the river (lovely!!), and more.

Oh, and I AM writing a book, a work of historical fiction (so THANKS for the encouragement)... though it may not be published in my lifetime - LOLOL! In fact, New Orleans is the setting! And, yes, there is a Plantation in it (for a VERY hot second - less than a page!), but not my experience at the Oaks; that was just way too personal... and I DO NOT want to relive it!

As always, the greatest of love and peace to you… and them grandbabies!

Your servant, sister and a slave of Christ,

Shel (who started to post this via PM but then thought, what the heck, it’s the truth!)

AGuest

Sory, Miz Sylvie. Ah dint meen 'ta kil y'all's thred (en ah hopes ah dint - ya'll folks kin jus skip mah stoh-ry and g'wan...). Sory, agin.

Y'all's sirvint, sistuh, 'en slav o'Christ,

SA

White Dove

I'd like a couple of lbs. of bacon flavored scrapple, please

I Am Going to Town

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