The first chapter, which I discussed yesterday, began in London, England, toward the end of Aminata’s life. The second one goes back to her childhood. I have to admit that at first it’s a little boring. I’ve never been one for set up because I like a book to move right into the action. But in this case it is important. Slavery was in part justified by the racist notion that Africans did not have any sense of civilization, and this chapter succinctly but gently scuttles that idea.
And not without criticism. Probably one of the funniest moments in the book is a two year old Aminata observing gender roles in her village: “I remember wondering … why only men sat to drink tea and converse, and why women were always busy. I reasoned that men were weak and needed rest.” Early on this brings to mind the question of a male writer telling a story from a woman’s perspective, arguably in an era when gender roles and experiences were much more distinctive than now. Obviously I’m not an expert on the experience, but the aforementioned humour made me feel safe that Hill was at least conscientious in his effort to genuinely gender his character and write what was/is true. It’s nice!
Throughout the chapter there are repeated references to rumours about kidnappings by strange Black men and also toubabou (white men), that these are troubled times, that it is not safe to go far from the village. The repetition builds a tension: you know what is coming, but how and when? In the end, our omniscience fails to serve us well. The kidnapping is stunning and painful all the same and as Aminata repeatedly hopes it only is, the whole scenario feels like the worst kind of nightmare. But by page 28, I guarantee you’re already going to be struggling to hold the book to your eyes. You’re going to want to put it down, even if only just a little bit. Who wants to read something so ugly, especially when you know the details of what is coming in the days and years to follow? I experience the urge to tell her, “The Middle Passage is coming. Run, please run!”
But she doesn’t. She can’t. Why keep reading past this point? Because in the end Aminata chooses life and walks in line with the others. She doesn’t oppose her captors, which she knows would be the choice of suicide. How does one find that strength? Where is that well that allows us to survive the ultimate inhumane debasement?
The Book of Negroes is about that strength.
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