A Man With A Buggy Whip Essay
“How did you get it; did a pirate try to slice you in half?” I asked, half jokingly.
“No,” he replied firmly, “a man with a buggy whip done it when I was about ten years old- it was the damnedest thing; he said that I belonged to him and he was putting me in my place. If Vera and my father had not stopped him, I do believe he would have beaten me to within an inch of my life. I thought Vera was going to attack him… she was the one that ran for my father.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“When I was a child, I loved playing with the Negro children; I did not have any brothers or sisters at the time. I stayed outside so much that I was nearly as dark as some of them were. It was summertime, I was in my usual attire, which was nothing more than a raggedy pair of cotton britches I wore to play in- they barely covered my bottom and you know… Well, we were in the front yard playing and cleaning the weeds from my mother’s flowerbeds and this man came up in a buggy. When I did not move fast enough, he yelled at me. I must have said something or acted rude - I don’t really remember, but he switched me with his whip. It laid my skin open and blood began pouring out- he had reared back to switch me again but Vera grabbed the whip away from him and ran yelling for my father. The man was cussing her for an ungrateful black bitch and so on, and threatening to sell her down the river and all sorts of other horrible things, that they…