A Time to Heal from the Soil

By Hattie Foster Soil

I have been writing poems for the past seven years. After writing my first poem, I felt that I had created a masterpiece but realizing that I was enjoying the energy that flowed from me. I also felt that this is something I can actually do. After reading my first poem, I fell in love with the results and even got energetic about writing more. I can create beautiful words from a single thought and find that writing poetry came naturally for me so I decided to write about my family.

I have done extensive researched and found great-great-great grandparents who were born as Africans and found themselves as properties in America in the late 1700s. They were kidnapped from their homes in Africa where life was easy and very promising, and captured by other Africans for money and sold to Americans slave traders. Before they were kidnapped, they had heard of people being sold into slavery to Americans and vowed to keep their guards up. One day, they were kidnapped and transported to America in the belly of a slave ship. They feared this unknown country, America, in which they will soon live. The conditions on the ship were horrendous, many victims of slavery committed suicide by jumping overboard as their mental state reflected their physical conditions. They had very little to eat and were kept chained because of the slave traders fear the slaves could cause injury to themselves or to others, thus hindering themselves to depreciate in value.

Once arriving in America, they were immediately put on the slave blocks for all to view as these new slaves were auctioned to the highest bidder. They did not understand the new language and were unable to practice their own cultures and lifestyles. They were forced to live by the rules or the majority culture that benefited from free labor from the backs of my ancestors. They worked in fields, gathering cotton, beans, soybean and other miscellaneous items to get ready for selling or bartering at the nearby markets.

Even among slaves, there was a certain social structure when it came to colors. There was a discriminated between lighter (mulattoes) and darker skinned Africans. The lighter skinned slaves worked inside the plantation (the big house) performing duties as cooks, caregivers, housekeepers and whatever the owners desired. Whereas, the darker skin slaves were forced to work in direct inclement weather, sometimes from zero to over 100 degrees. Most of the tasks they performed were field workers, animal trainers, carpenters, architects and land developers. Regardless of where they worked, the slaves were treated worse than the family pets. The owners of the slaves were often called master, boss, Mr. or Miss. This etiquette produced specific ways in which the plantation was operated. If things were not done properly, the owners would punish the slaves as if they were caged animals, this would be severe beatings or even kill them.

While decades and centuries passed, it was known that the education system was not designed for Africans and the new dark Americans. Up until the 19th century, the slaves relied solely on self-education for their own intuitions and ideas. They had many remedies for medicine. Their menu consisted of eating parts of the swine that was considered spoils to the owners.

In the 1800s, a small fraction of African Americans learned to read and write, it was considered a crime if they were taught these skills. Most slaves pretended to be dumb to protect themselves and their families. Now, I love reading those short stories and eloquent words about their lives and situations. I also enjoyed the writings of many African American authors of the 1930 and the 1940s, especially those who wrote about slavery, something I can relate to them, my ancestors.

The broken English and dialog is especially dear to me because this language I have heard all of my life. Writers such as; W.E.B. Dubose, Arma Bontemps, Paul Lawrence Dunbar and La

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 21, 2009
• ISBN: 9781469120058

Hattie Foster Soil

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Copyright © 2009 by Hattie Foster Soil.

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4363-9176-4

Softcover 978-1-4363-9175-7

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Contents

INTRODUCTION

REVELATIONS

THE LONG BUS RIDE

A TIME OF OLD AGE

PREJUDICE…

STATEMENT IS BEING MADE

ANGRY BLACK WOMEN

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE

OUR NEW PRESIDENT

PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA

CHICAGO WEATHER

WHY DO I WRITE

IN 60 YEARS,

WHAT HAVE MY EYES SEEN… .

MEDIA

TRAFFIC

BEING CREATIVE

A D D I C T I O N

CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT

DECISION, DECISION

DO WE GAMBLE?

IT IS TIME FOR ELECTION

DID YOU LIE?

WEAKNESSES AND STRENGTHS

ATTITUDES OF THE 60’S

CELEBRATING BLACK HISTORY MONTH IN LAS VEGAS

HURRICAN KATRINA

A View from the Council Meeting

OUR ALL AMERICAN BOYS

PRAYERS

EXCUSE ME SIR:

james and Bill’s Flight

GOD’S LAND

NATURAL OCCURRENCES

LET’S PRAY TOGETHER

JESUS IS THE CHRIST!

GOD, WHERE ARE YOU?

AMEN, AMEN, AMEN!

CIRCLE OF TRUST

I BELIEVE… .

A Mother’s Prayer

For An Adopted Daughter,

My Prayer

THE SOUTH IS NOT TO MY LIKING

CELEBRATION

IF I HAD A DOLLAR

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU

PREFERENCES IN MUSIC

UNDERSTANDING THE MOMENT

MYSELF

MY TURN

KNOWING MYSELF

WHO AM I?

WHAT DISTURBES ME?

JUDGEING APPEARANCES

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

MY MOTHER AND SISTERS ARE IN ME

Busy, Busy As A Bee

Self-Improvement

FRIENDS

GANGS, YES OR NO?

GRANDMA’S FEET

MY REWARDING JOB

TO ALL OF MY SISTERS OUT THERE!

JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE OFFICE

I HAVE NEVER MET A STRANGER

SHARE YOUR TALENTS

FRIENDS

ARE YOU CRAZY?

FORGIVENESS

FOOD IS CULTURAL

LOVE

A CUTE STORY

STRANGE LOVE

A MOMENT IN DEEP THOUGHT

THE MEANING OF BEAUTY

A YOUNG WOMAN’S CHRISTMAS

I APPRECIATE CREATIONS

Trees are so Beautiful

CHANGED MY LIFE FOREVER

IN AWE FOR YOUR LOVE

Love Is Life

EMOTIONS

INSPIRATIONS

HAPPINESS IS WITHIN

Faces You Make

BLUE SKY

COUNTRY ROAD

FREEDOM, WHERE IS IT?

WORDS

PASSION FOR LIFE

Movies

A NEW DAY!

FUTURE

HATRED IS NOT THE WAY!

IN LIFE, WE WIN OR LOSE?

SHOW ME THE WAY

LIFE IS LIKE A CAR

OPPORTUNITY

DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER

My Greyhound Bus Ride

RELIGION

THE SURGERY

THE SONG AMAZING GRACE

PONDERING POEM

SABBATH DAY

CHURCH

SUNDAY AGAIN!

EASTER MORNING

MY CROWNING MOMENTS

THE LAST WORD

A CHRISTMAS MESSAGE

Mother’s Earth

ANCESTORS

TAKES A VILLAGE…

DOING GENEALOGY

GENEALOGY IS SPECIAL

What’s You Eating Boy!

THIS OLD HOUSE

PRECIOUS BABIES

FAMILY REUNION

I WAS CERTAINLY THERE!

RICH MAN/POOR MAN

SLEEPY TIME

WHAT IS HOME?

THE FUNERAL

IS SLAVERY ENDED YET?

PARENTS

DELIVERING OWN BABY

HELLO MOTHER

MY HUSBAND’S TEACHING

DAD’S DAY AT A GLANCE

CELEBRATING MOTHER’S DAY

GRANDPARENTS

CHILDREN

SPECIAL DELIVERIES

DISCUSSION TO A SON

FROM A MOTHER

BEAUTIFUL BABIES

OUR GROWN UP CHILDREN

YOU ARE MY GIRL TOO

CONDITIONS OF BIRTH

DADDY’S GIRL

CONCLUSION

THE END

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

A WOMAN WITH A HEART

HATTIE FOSTER SOIL: A LIFE OF LOVE

A TRIBUTE TO A SPECIAL GIFT

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my children, Daryl, Sherri Lisa, William, Chester, Lenora and Leslie, who always believed in me and my abilities.

Also, I would like a special dedication to go to my late husband, Victor, for his encouragement and that extra push he gave me. I find that I write better knowing he is watching me.

When sliding down the banister of life,

Remember me as the splendor.

Melvin Henkin

POETRY BOOK OF WISDOM:

MULTICULTURAL OF EXPERIENCES

The Author’s Corner

I have been writing poems for the past seven years. After writing my first poem, I felt that I had created a masterpiece but realizing that I was enjoying the energy that flowed from me. I also felt that this is something I can actually do. After reading my first poem, I fell in love with the results and even got energetic about writing more. I can create beautiful words from a single thought and find that writing poetry came naturally for me so I decided to write about my family.

I have done extensive researched and found great-great-great grandparents who were born as Africans and found themselves as properties in America in the late 1700s. They were kidnapped from their homes in Africa where life was easy and very promising, and captured by other Africans for money and sold to Americans’ slave traders. Before they were kidnapped, they had heard of people being sold into slavery to Americans and vowed to keep their guards up. One day, they were kidnapped and transported to America in the belly of a slave ship. They feared this unknown country, America, in which they will soon live. The conditions on the ship were horrendous, many victims of slavery committed suicide by jumping overboard as their mental state reflected their physical conditions. They had very little to eat and were kept chained because of the slave traders fear the slaves could cause injury to themselves or to others, thus hindering themselves to depreciate in value.

Once arriving in America, they were immediately put on the slave blocks for all to view as these new slaves were auctioned to the highest bidder. They did not understand the new language and were unable to practice their own cultures and lifestyles. They were forced to live by the rules or the majority culture that benefited from free labor from the backs of my ancestors. They worked in fields, gathering cotton, beans, soybean and other miscellaneous items to get ready for selling or bartering at the nearby markets.

Even among slaves, there was a certain social structure when it came to colors. There was a discriminated between lighter (mulattoes) and darker skinned Africans. The lighter skinned slaves worked inside the plantation (the big house) performing duties as cooks, caregivers, housekeepers and whatever the owners desired. Whereas, the darker skin slaves were forced to work in direct inclement weather, sometimes from zero to over 100 degrees. Most of the tasks they performed were field workers, animal trainers, carpenters, architects and land developers. Regardless of where they worked, the slaves were treated worse than the family pets. The owners of the slaves were often called master, boss, Mr. or Miss. This etiquette produced specific ways in which the plantation was operated. If things were not done properly, the owners would punish the slaves as if they were caged animals, this would be severe beatings or even kill them.

While decades and centuries passed, it was known that the education system was not designed for Africans and the new dark Americans. Up until the 19th century, the slaves relied solely on self-education for their own intuitions and ideas. They had many remedies for medicine. Their menu consisted of eating parts of the swine that was considered spoils to the owners.

In the 1800’s, a small fraction of African Americans learned to read and write, it was considered a crime if they were taught these skills. Most slaves pretended to be dumb to protect themselves and their families. Now, I love reading those short stories and eloquent words about their lives and situations. I also enjoyed the writings of many African American authors of the 1930 and the 1940’s, especially those who wrote about slavery, something I can relate to them, my ancestors.

The broken English and dialog is especially dear to me because this language I have heard all of my life. Writers such as; W.E.B. Dubose, Arma Bontemps, Paul Lawrence Dunbar and Langston Hughes, to name a few, were great writers, however their experiences came through as short stories.

Many young African Americans today have succumbed to offensive and vulgar writings. They are not able to write unless they use some form of profane language or even the N word. Their story telling is usually in the form of rap, which makes older African Americans, like me, shy away from reading or listening to their spoken words.

In this book, there will be controversial materials as well as folk humor. The Pondering Poem (which is included in the religion section of this book) was submitted to the International Poetry Society. This poem won me an Editor’s Choice Award, which I feel so very blessed. Currently, I am a full pledge poet and I feel so honored. This book A Time to Heal from the Soil: Poems, Short Stories and Monologues of Multi-Cultural Experiences, has been a joy to write and I hope when you read it, it will bring some kind of joy to your soul. I am forever grateful to God, you, and my ancestors for bringing me to this point in my career.

Hattie Foster Soil

INTRODUCTION

Hattie Soil was born in 1947, to two poor sharecroppers, A.J. and Lenoria Foster, in Mount Pleasant, Mississippi. Hattie was the seventh child of eleven children.

Mount Pleasant was a poverty stricken area in the Delta part of Mississippi. Intense floods and lack of return crops sent the Foster family packing to Memphis, Tennessee. While in Memphis, Hattie’s parents separated due to A.J.’s excessive drinking which robbed him of his ambition to work and provide the essentials needed for their large family. In Memphis, Tennessee, the Foster family had a pretty hard life. There were lots of hungry days due to the lack of work in the area.

In Memphis, Hattie and her family endured harsh racism. Examples of the