I look into the eyes of a man. A blue-eyed man, the color of the ocean at sundown. A tall, strong man with a gun in hand. I lay behind a box filled with dirty potatoes. My dark skin acts as a shadow while the sun glistens between the half-closed blinds. His pale face blank but his eyes move. Looking one way then the other. Looking at his gun then at me then around the room as if thinking, as if knowing I am as him, living. I look into the eyes of a man whose people use cattle skin covered ropes to make our skin break and blood appear, to make us cry endless, salty tears that fall and make our hope of freedom fall with it. I look into the eyes of a man who has bought people like dirt to put on their fields and treat them even worse, who has sold a man for a coin when inside he is worth more than he. I look into eyes who have the fate of my life at the tip of a bullet, finger on the trigger, eyes looking into mine. I look into the eyes of a man who will either kill me and take me to heaven or spear my life and have me live in hell.

Ma`ma always said to never look in a white man’s path for he may take it as a challenge and spite me, she said never take my time but to do my work fast for if I am slow I will be sold, she said never forget that we are people too. I forgot these things. For I looked in a white man’s path and he did spite me, I did take my time and I was sold, I forgot I was a person and thought to pity myself worse than the cows in the fields. I thought I meant nothing more than the flies that eat our garbage but do eat better than me. I would wonder if I was like the white men, why would God have him beat me? Sell me? Kill me? I would think that I was cruel in a way, I was the evil one and I was being punished. Then one day it stopped. Hells raging fire went to a simmer for less than 24 hours but it was long enough for me to remember what Ma` ma said and to see the entryway to heaven and know I had a chance. And those words bring me to where I am now. Looking straight up at a man who can kill me with one movement of his hand and telling him he has no power over me. I will be free whether on this earth or in Heaven's kingdom. I will uphold Ma’ma’s words. And if needed I will die. So for the last time, I hold my head up. I look in the white man's path. I look into the white man's eyes. And at last, I am certain of the obvious truth.