1853

Mississippi

    The sound of the dogs grew closer and sweat soaked her body from head to toe. In the tears that fell down her face lied desperation, fear and determination. RUN FASTER. Her legs had grown so tired but she pushed them forward, cutting through a thicket of branches and trees. The pain from the scratches were nothing compared to the awaiting jaws of the hungry blood thirsty dogs that would rip her apart. Eyes darted rapidly around her surroundings and quickly she shot left. Please God… let me survive. Please. Her breath wheezed and strained but by God she caught the sight of a locomotive passing. Darting out into the open field, she screamed as a shot rang out. 

    “You as good as dead nigger! You ain’t gon get far!” Another shot rang out and she ducked slightly, pushing her legs past their limits. Hands outstretched, she grabbed hold to a handle and pulled herself up to stand in between the cars. Her legs shook and threatened to give out but she held onto the rails with an iron grip. Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest and the tears kept coming, now of thankfulness. Eying the car in front of her, it appeared empty thanks to God. Lifting shaky fingers to the door, she shoved the door open and slipped inside. 

    Looking for a place to hide, she quickly looked around. Brown cloth bags and what appeared to be foodstuffs filled the car. Pulling herself in between two tall bags, she crouched down on the floor. I made it… I got away. The fear of being caught licked at the back of her throat but her jaw tightened. She’d die before she went back. 

     Attempting to calm her breathing, she leaned her head back, listening to the whistle and roar of the engine. She wondered how long she’d be in here… and how long the trip was. She just prayed it was in a place where she could rebuild. She knew of places where runaway slaves went, having built their own communities. The unknown scared her but being forced to go back to her plantation scared her even more. One thing at a time. One minute…one day at a time. 

*** 

    “We’re here.” She didn’t move yet but she could feel a slight breeze on her feet. The heavy tarp was pulled away from her and bright sunlight near blinded her. A white face looked down at her. She didn’t say anything as she slowly climbed down from the wagon, putting more than enough distance between her and the small group of settlers. 

    “Here you should find work.” A woman said, a crisp white bonnet on her head. They called themselves Shakers, a strange religion where the women did not bear any children or marry and the men believed all men were created equal in the sight of God.  She had never seen people such as they. They had caught sight of her in Wyoming and had invited her on their journey. She had been hesitant at first but they told her that they were not slave hunters…they didn’t believe in it at all. She didn’t know why but she went with them. She didn’t completely trust them… didn’t completely trust any white person for that matter. It was this distrust that kept her isolated from them. But they shared their meals with her, left her be to bathe and dress and alone when the time called for it. 

    “This is the land of Gold. There is opportunity for you here.” The woman took hold of her hands and gave it a friendly squeeze. 

    “May God be with you. For the sake of those who kept you in captivity, let us pray that God has mercy on their souls.” Letting go of her, the men and women got back into their buggy and with a sharp tap on the back of the horse, they left her standing there in the road. Swallowing, she began to feel her dress stick to her with sweat. Encinitas. What a strange name for a town. Straightening up, she wiped her moist palms onto the front of her dress and started for the bustling town. It had taken her a couple months of running, hiding…months of complete terror. But here she was. In this land they called California. Here, she’d try… she’d have no choice but to jump into the unknown. 

*** 

    “Professor Yi?” Blinking out of his reverie, he turned dark eyes unto his faithful listener, her expression that of complete fascination. Her curiosity would end her he reasoned. 

    “My apologies. Where was I?”

    “You were telling me about the woman you loved…”

    “Ah. Right.”

    “So this Eminta woman… she was…she was an enslaved African-American?” 

    “Yes.” The surprise on her face was so tangible but she quickly reigned it in. 

    “How did you come to meet her?” He knew what she really wanted to ask was how did that happen? It was surely not as uncommon as she perceived. Those times were different. The demand for a wife meant that one took who he had access to. He glanced down at the coffee in his cup, steam still wafting up. Even so, even now it would not matter. It didn’t matter of the time… this one or that one. He’d still give his heart to her. Lifting his cup, he took a drink. 

    “I had arrived in California at that time. There had been a demand for Chinese men, the call to action promising good pay, a wife and land. Hundreds of our brethren flocked to the New World, leaving behind poverty and their families. I too had left those I had come to call family…” She was quiet as he continued, 

    “Once I arrived, however, I quickly discovered that all we had been promised had been nothing but a lie.” 

*** 

    Eyes took in the madness that was in front of him. For a moment, he felt out of place. Awkward. Unsure of if he had made the right decision. Standing alone in the street, he took in the people. There were those who shared the same face as he yet their skin was dirty and brown. They wore clothes of sack cloth and other poor materials. Some of the women sat outside, breast bared as they nursed hungry children.

    “Are you new?” Turning, he faced a man about the same height as he yet he looked like the rest of this place’s people. 

    “Yes…”

    “Where from?”

    “Beijing.”

    “Ah.”

    “You?” 

    “Chengdu.” Nodding, he swallowed and was sure that he looked as uneasy as he felt. The man lifted a hand and clapped his shoulder. 

    “You, friend, are welcome here.” Turning eyes back onto the man he was about to speak when he noticed a familiar flash in the man’s eyes. The heart of the sea. Seeing understanding spring up to replace the uneasiness, the man smiled and invited him to enter his house. 

    “What is your name, friend?” 

    “Zhaojie. Yi Zhaojie.” 

    “No doubt they will shorten it. They will give you another identity should you not hold onto your own.”

    “They?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together. 

    “The whites.” 

    “Hm.”

    “They cannot be trusted.” The man opened the door and let him inside. A dirt floor and a place for a fire in the center of the room was there, a pallet for sleeping and a large black pot and wok for cooking. 

    “It’s humble but it beats being completely outside.” The man replied to his surprised silence, going to sit by his pallet. 

    “Come, friend. Sit.” He obliged, crossing his legs. For a long while the man just stared at him and he in return. 

    “You must have come a long way no doubt you are tired. Rest.”

    “Wait…you are?” The man smiled. 

    “Liu Donghai.” 

    “Thank you.”

    “Rest. It will get busy here soon. I will need you to help.” 

    “With what?”

    “I am a merchant here.”

    “You don’t work on the railroad?” 

    “Only mortal men who wish to die work on the white man’s rail.” Donghai said no more as he left him in quiet. Slowly, he laid back against his pallet, eyes up on the wood roof of the house. It pleased him to know that there were those like him here… already. At least here he would not have to hide. He could be just as they were. Together they could form a piece of their homeland in this New foreign land. His journey here could not be in vain.