Folklore

Before we came here, poor devils, we were all free, we were not obliged to work for any master. It is the whites who came into our country, Africa, to get us. They stole some of us; they bought some of us from our fathers for a red handkerchief, for a bottle of tafia, or an old gun. When we went to war those who were caught were sold to the whites who came to trade on the seacoast. We were led away, tied together, tied tow by two; and when we reached the seacoast like a herd of cattle, men, women, and children, we were exchanged, not for money, but for any kind of merchandise, and the whites put us into ships and brought us here. This is how we became slaves in America.

[…]A white man came to [Manga] and bought her from her master. He took her to his house and told her in her own language: “I bought you to take care of my little boy.” He had a pretty house with a store in it, and a pretty garden. Behind the house was an orange grove, and the trees were so large that there was a fine shade underneath. To show you how my grandmother’s country was a good one, I will tell you that the orange-trees were in bloom the whole year; there were flowers and little oranges and ripe oranges all the time. The house was near the sea, and every morning Manga took little Florimond to take a bath. The little boy was so pretty, and his father and mother were so good, that Manga would not have left them for anything in the world. She loved little Florimond so much; his hair was curly, his eyes were blue, his skin was white and rosy.

[…]Florimond’s father used to trade with the negroes that lived far in the woods, so one day he started to get gold dust and elephants’ teeth. On leaving he said to Manga: “Take good care of my wife and my little boy. You know I gave you already a pair of shoes; I will give you, on my return, a fine dress and a necklace.”

[…]Well, the master went into the big woods, and three days afterwards the lady said to Manga to take Florimond to the sea and give him a bath. While the little boy was playing with the shells and the white sand, they saw a skiff with several persons come ashore. A white man disembarked, and passed by Manga, and she felt a peculiar sensation, as if some misfortune was to happen. The eyes of the man shone like those of a cat in the dark. As he passed, he said: “Good morning, Florimond,” but the little boy did not reply anything. When they arrived home the lady sent them to play in the yard, and every time the master was away the strange man would come to the house. Florimond did not want to see him, and he said one day he would tell his father about the stranger. The latter said the Manga: “You little black imp, if ever you open your mouth about what you see here, I will cut your tongue with my big knife; then I will carry you to my ship, sew you up in a sack, and throw you into the sea for the fish to eat you.” Manga was so frightened that she would not have said a word even if they had whipped her for a whole day. In the evening Florimond cried so much that it was with great difficulty that Manga succeeded in putting him to sleep. Her cot was near the bed of the little boy, and during the night she saw the pirate enter the room with a big stick. He struck the little boy on the head and said: “He is head. I will put him in the hole which I dug in the yard. Now I must attend to the black girl.”

Manga, however, had already run away into the yard; but the man, thinking that she was in the road, ran out to catch her. Florimand’s mother came into the room, took the little boy’s body in her arms, and buried him in a hole near the place where Manga was. She was not quite through with the ugly work when she heard a noise and ran away. She met the man, who said: “I believe the girl had gone to the woods; we need not trouble about her any more; the lions and tigers will soon eat her up. Now I must go on board my ship, and when I come back I will take you with me.”

The lady went into the house, and Manga came out of her hiding place. She felt so weak that she could hardly stand, but before she left she kissed the ground where her dear little master was buried. She said: “Farewell, little angel,” and ran into the woods. She preferred to stay with the wild animals than with the cruel mother.

After walking for some time as fast as she could, she stopped by a bayou in the wood, drank some water, and sat down to rest. She fell asleep, but soon she awakened by loud talking. She saw some men standing around her, and among them was her master, who seemed to be very angry: “What are you doing here so far from my house? I left you to take care of my little boy. I suppose you did something wrong and ran away.” Manga did not reply anything, because she remembered the threats of the pirate. The master ordered his men to bring her back to his house, and he hastened to go home. He found his wife, who was weeping bitterly, and she said to him: “Oh! What a dreadful misfortune! Manga let Florimond fall on his head, and our poor little boy is dead. I wanted to kill the negress, but she ran away, and I don’t know where she is. If ever I catch her I will strangle her with my own hands.”

When the poor man heard that his dear boy was dead, he fell in a swoon. They put him in bed, and he remained fifteen days delirious. During that time the lady said to Manga that she would kill her if she opened her mouth. She shut the girl in a cabin, and gave her nothing but bread and water.

At last Florimond’s father go out of bed, but he would not be consoled, and he wept all day for his little boy. As Manga was still in her prison, her master did not see her, and did not think of her. One day as he was walking about in the yard, he looked from time to time at his dear boy’s grave, and tears flowed from his eyes. In the mean time the Nita was singing on a tree near by, and its song was so sad that the poor man felt more sad than ever. It seemed to him it was his Florimond who was singing, and he came to the grave and looked at it a long time. All at once the poor father thought he was dreaming. He saw something that was so strange that many people will not believe it; but so many people told me the same story, that I believe it is as sure as the sun is shining. When the lady had buried the little boy, she had not had time to cover the body completely, and one little hand was out of the grave, and it was the pretty little finger which was moving as if it was making a sign to call some one. The little finger moved on one side and then on the other, and never stopped beckoning, so to say. The poor father dug up the earth with his hand and uncovered the body. He found it as fresh as if it hadn just been buried, and he took it in his arms and carried it to the house. He put the boy on a bed rubbed him so long that the child came back to consciousness. The father sent for the surgeon, who began to attend to the boy, and said that he would revive. There was no danger for his life, as the skull was not broken; the child was only in a state of lethargy, and would soon be well again. Indeed, in a few days Florimond was running about as if nothing had happened, but he never said anything about his mother and the stranger, and the lady at last allowed Manga to leave her prison. Remorse had taken hold of Florimond’s mother; she grew thinner every day, and one evening, in spite of the most tender care, she died. Her last words were, “Oh! My God, forgive me!” She was buried in the grave where her little boy had been; and as to the pirate, he never came back. They say that he was hanged.

After his wife’s death Florimond’s father left Africa, and sold poor Manga. She was put upon a ship, and this is how she became a slave in Louisiana, and related to me the story of the little finger.

Louisiana FOlktales, Doris Aguillard