Song of Slaves in the Desert - Alan Cheuse [128]
INTRODUCTORY LESSON
Questions to my little Reader.
What place do you live in?
Is it a town or a city you live in?
What is a town? What is a city?
Which way is north? Which south?
Which way is east? Which west?
Have you ever been in any other town or city than the one you live in?
If you have, what was the name of that town?
In going to that town, which way did you go?
What town lies next to the place in which you live, on the north?
What town is next, on the east?
What next, on the west?
What next, on the south?
What county do you live in?
Do you know what a county is?
What state do you live in?
Which way is Boston from the place you live in?
Which way is New York?
Which way is Hartford?
Which way is Philadelphia?
Have you ever seen a river?
Have you ever seen a mountain?
If you have, what was it called?
Describe a mountain?
Did you ever see the sea, or ocean?
What is the sea, land or water?
Is the land smooth and level, like the water?
Are towns built on the water, or on the land?
Do animals such as horses and cows live on the water, or on the land?
Did you ever catch any fish on the land?
Where is the sky? Where are the stars?
Did you know what the shape of the world is?
Did you ever hear of England?
Did you ever see anybody who has been in England?
Do you know which way England lies?
Did you ever hear of Asia?
Do you know which way Asia lies?
Did you ever hear of Africa, where negroes come from?
Do you know which way it lies?
The doctor’s little reader quickly learned her lessons in what lay where and how she should regard them. She learned her directions, and told him a story about catching fish on land—a silly dream she dreamed one night after reading with him. She did not know anyone who had been in England, but she had heard of Africa, yes, and she recalled quite vividly the stories old women back in the cabins told about the old country, the rivers, the forests, and she knew which way it lay. Back there, over her shoulder, where across the rice fields the ocean broke on the shore, and made a road of waves all the way back to the place where her grandmother had been born.
Where is the sky? Where are the stars?
She knew answers to these questions, too.
The stars spread overhead on dark nights without a big moon, the stars made shapes—the boy sometimes pointed these out to her—and some of these pointed toward England and some to Africa and some to Philadelphia and New York. Each of these names seemed as foreign, and as familiar, as the next. Only the stars glittered with a fascinating and hypnotic light that made her wonder about everything in the world and everything above it—creeks, rivers, roads, trees, fields, farms, horses, people, African or not, each fit into a pattern like the pattern overhead in the dark on nights without a great moon. Though some nights just before sleep she wondered how she might steal a boat and sail back to Africa, she understood that once she returned she would have no place to go. Could she look for, and find, her grandmother? How far deep into the forests must she have returned? It might be easier to float up to the stars and turn upside down and use the glowing specks of light as stepping stones back to the night skies above the place where her ancestors were born.
Such a vast place, Africa seemed in relation to all else on the globe in the book. And all a big ball, and all that ocean between her and Africa. It seemed easier