Sis, We Run, We Hide, We Seek

part of My Black Hair Stories by Sue-Ann Bel

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I am descended from enslaved people who had to work on plantations in Surinam. So, I wrote this story as a tribute to my ancestors. This is for the younger version of me that had to live during slavery. This is for my ancestors who had to go through this.

There´s a strong wind, small seeds are falling out of my hair on the ground. My mother taught me to keep seeds in my hair for when I wanted to escape the plantation. So I could use those seeds to grow new life. I couldn't take my headscarf with me, it was too noticeable. I pick up a few seeds from the ground and press them back between my braids. To the left, straight ahead past the tree and duck down by the bushes. I crawl on my knees. I see the dust from my footsteps still hanging in the air. I wait for the dust to settle. My knee burns, I have a wound and it hurts. I look up and see the sun moving westward. I don't have much time. If I were alone, I could take bigger steps, but I am with my little sister. I bend my head towards her; she is much smaller, so I decide to kneel so she can see the pattern clearly. “Are we still on the right path?” I whisper. She nods and traces her fingers along my scalp. With two fingers, she moves in an S-shape to the crown of my head. It tickles and at the same time relaxes me.

It takes me back to my mom who would scratch my hair every morning before braiding it. A loud bang snaps me back to the plantation. My sister and I run through the fields with the tallest cotton. We run towards the river. We're almost there. Just before dark, we finally reach the river. With my fingers, I feel through the braids to find a place where we can safely cross the river. Here, I place my finger on top of my scalp. This is where we must be. We hear loud bangs, shots in the air. My sister and I hide in the field. Footsteps pass our hiding place, my sweat drips down past my eyes to the corners of my mouth. Now, the footsteps sound further and further away. My sister and I look at each other. I give her a hug. We prepare ourselves for the last run to freedom. I press the seeds in my braids a bit deeper, I can't lose them. Another shot. I can see the fear in my sister’s eyes. I place my hand on her heart. "Take a deep breath, don't look back, in a few hours we'll be there, okay?" I try to calm my sister.

"Don't look back, never look back," these were the last words of my mother. Now we run. We run with our eyes upon the horizon. We run into the big river. We swim, we crawl, we fall. We cry, we scream, we hide, we wait, we listen, we feel, we run, we rest, run, rest, we hide, we seek, and: we find.

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