This is a personal and historical account of the author's experience as a slave in 16th-century Guinean Africa, detailing the brutal treatment, exploitation, and dehumanization he faced in the sugar cane fields of Sucrerie Beauport.
Extract
[...] The exhausting days under a leaden sun always push us from one place to another, from one destination to another. Embarked in the dark and humid hold of an immense ship, we are more than 400, crowded, frightened, and resigned on an interminable maritime route that takes us to the other end of the world. The days and nights blend together until finally, the light reaches us again, harsh and pale, in the throat of this infernal hold. We are shouted at again with terrifying orders in a foreign language that terrifies us. [...]
[...] From our awakening, before sunrise, we have only a few minutes to wash summarily and eat a little bread. Led to the field, the pace is anchored in our flesh, given with absolute regularity. Our foreman supervises every action, at every hour of the day. At night, our only respite, we lie on our makeshift bedding, exhausted. Yet it is not rare for the silence to be broken by the tears of a young boy, taken away too early from his family and who does not understand what he has done to deserve such treatment. [...]
[...] The Hell of Sugar Cane Historical Account The Hell of Sugar Cane It is 1566 when I first hear the term 'negro'. This word produces a strange impression on me. I feel it is harsh, cold, and contemptuous, without really knowing why. We are in my small village of Doumolaa, in Guinean Africa, at a time when the whole family, young and old, is gathered around our single dish. Men suddenly enter, shouting into our hut, brandishing weapons and seizing each of us. [...]
