Life After Physical Slavery: Yolanda Explains Life After Physical Slavery and How It Affects Us Today.
By Yolanda Key
()
About this ebook
Yolanda Key
Yolanda was born in a small town in the south called Colquitt Ga. She is the eldest of four siblings. Yolanda grew up in a town close to Colquitt Ga called Donalsonville Ga where she graduated high school in 1996. She pursued a career as a nurse assistance and it allowed her to provide for her 2 sons for many years. Yolanda was married but always felt like she was single due to the horrible life she had with her children father. So she moved to Dothan Alabama to get away from the abuse and neglect she was encountering with her husband. She still worked as a nursing assistant at Wiregrass hospice for 5 years until she gained the desire to become a professional truck driver in 2006. Yolanda also attended Troy University where she wanted to become a community counselor. Yolanda volunteered and helped individuals in her community. She also started a community group called The Community Inspirations in 2011 where she recognized the first African American commissioner in the wiregrass. Yolanda always love to create short stories and poems through out her life. So she decided one day she wanted to write a book and have it published. Yolanda wanted her first book to be inspirational and also about something that a lot of people struggle with today, and that's the desires of their flesh. So she created, Weak Flesh. Yolanda is very conservative so she didn't know how to get her book published untill one day she had an epiphany and stepped out on faith to start the process of her book being publish in 2017. She then published her first children's book My Name Is MA'NIYAH, telling a story about one of her granddaughters. Yolanda has 16 years in the transportation business, so she started her very own trucking business, Keytruckingllc which she has been the owner for 5 years. Yolanda met the love of her life Kelvin Wilson in 2015 and they are currently opening a smoothie & coffee cafe in her hometown Donalsonville Georgia called Wilson's Smoothie & Coffee Cafe.
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My Name Is Ma’Niyah Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWeak Flesh Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Life After Physical Slavery - Yolanda Key
Shattered Pieces Inside of Me
I stood still minding nature as I gathered resources to deliver back to my tribe when suddenly, a noise ripped me from my mindfulness. An uncanny sound echoed around me—something I had never heard before. At that moment, I was alone and the night was quickly approaching, so I hid from whatever it was that seemed to linger and prey in my surroundings. I laid under the debris and tried to control my breathing when a snake abruptly emerged from the bushes that were lined ahead of me. I started breathing shallow and rapid breaths, worried that if I were to move, it would strike relentlessly. I quieted myself as much as I could as it slithered away into the bushes across from me. As the moon illuminated the figure of the snake, the noise I heard earlier grew louder and closer. It was a man. Three of them. They were a different color than me—a much lighter complexion. I recognized one of the men, Sounge, he was from the Yoruba tribe. The Yoruba tribe were not friendly with our tribe, and so I continued to hide, hoping the men wouldn’t see me.
It wasn’t long before Sounge yelled my name from where he stood, and my frail body jumped in fear as he did. Apparently, he watched me every time I came out to this spot of the forest and knew I was hiding somewhere nearby.
I’m not sure if it was fear or just the position I was in, but my left leg became sore as it fell asleep, pins and needles making their way up to my thigh. Quietly, I assumed a more comfortable position, hoping not to alert Sounge and his men to where I was hidden away.
A branch broke in response to calculated movement, and the men’s eyes darted in my direction. The two that I wasn’t familiar with smiled and spoke a language I didn’t recognize or understand. Again, Sounge called for me to come out and began talking nicely, as if their tribe was friendly with ours. I locked eyes with him as the dirt, rocks, and leaves crackled under his feet. He approached closer and closer and I dropped my herbs from my hands as he tugged on my arm. I told them you would be here,
he said, his voice muffled and quiet as he spoke.
Sounge turned toward the men and asked them for the gold, speaking once more in a language I didn’t understand. Before I knew it, the men gathered around me and spoke loudly as they looked me over and touched me in places I had never been touched before. My breathing grew shallow and I gathered as much strength as possible, pushing the men away as they became increasingly aggressive. One of the men leaned in close, smelt me, and began rubbing me. I begged Sounge to make them stop but he only looked at me slyly and clutched the gold he held in his hand.
Knowing I was on my own, I fought all three of them with as much power as I had, but it was useless. Until mercifully, Sounge yelled, That’s enough!
Immediately, their hands fell off my body and they each took a step back.
Sounge asked for more gold, but they refused and pointed something long at him—I didn’t recognize what it was. One of the men handed Sounge more gold in fear and intimidation, but one of the others slapped his hand the moment he extended it.
Then, the other man—who was quiet but more vicious than the rest—released a noise from his long stick-like object, and the man standing next to him who clutched the gold fell to the ground. He gave Sounge the gold. As Sounge turned to leave, he shouted that he would be back.
The man laid on the ground, completely still, while the others forced themselves onto me. I cried and screamed as the sky cried, cleansing me and providing me with an ounce of relief amongst the pain. From that moment on, my soul was shattered and there was no way to undo the damage that had already been done.
Interestingly enough, you’d think—like I once thought—that the people that looked like us were for us. Little did I know, they were against us, instead.
Many people from tribes adopted the mentality of doing whatever was needed to survive. However, one does not survive at the cost of hurting others. So, from that moment on, I walked feeling unclean, completely broken, and waiting to waste away. My purpose in life no longer existed. I knew that I would forever live with shattered pieces inside of me.
The Beginning
8.jpgI know they can’t be this naïve, especially after all that has happened. I guess these people will continue to follow the trend of hoping something or someone will come and rescue them. If no one saved Keute Kinte from getting his foot chopped off, then why would anyone save us from the bullshit that’s been going on for over 1000 years?
Let me introduce myself. My name is Yolanda and I plan on walking you through the events of yesterday so you can better understand how we got to today. Living in the South is horrible. There hasn’t been much change for centuries because of ignorance and