Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo"

by Zora Neale Hurston

“Our grief so heavy look lak we cain stand it. I think maybe I die in my sleep when I dream about my mama.

So we tell de women, ‘Now we all want go back home. Somebody tell us it take lot of money to keer us back in de Affica soil. Derefo’ we got to work hard and save de money. You must help too. You see fine clothes, you must not wish for dem.’ De women tell us dey do all dey kin to get back in dey country, and dey tellee us, ‘You see fine clothes, don’t you wish for dem neither.’

De man and de woman dey ’gree ’tween deyselves, den dey married and live together. We doan know nothin’ ’bout dey have license over here in dis place. So den we gittee married by de license, but I doan love my wife no mo’ wid de license than I love her befo’ de license. She a good woman and I love her all de time.

She doan have no time to live befo’ she die.

Maybe, I doan pray right, you unnerstand me, ’cause he die while I was prayin’ dat de Lor’ spare my boy life.

After while she say, ‘Cudjo, you doan need me drop no beans. You cain work ’thout no woman ’round you. You bringee me here for company.’ “I say, ‘Thass right.’

I good to my chillun! I want dey comp’ny, but looky lak dey lonesome for one ’nother. So dey hurry go sleep together in de graveyard.