Feeling In Your Skin

By Mônica de Castro, By the Spirit Leonel and Rocio Alegre Heredia

Nothing replaces the experience. However, when you rush to judge the attitudes of others according to your own standards, you believe that you are in possession of the truth. How delusional! How can you know what is happening inside others? How can you evaluate the emotions you have never felt? How can you know what goes beyond appearances? How can you find out the limits of your resistance and some temptations, if you have never been tempted? Vanity makes us believe that you know the best solution for the problems of others. Life's wisdom tries to show the relativism of your judgment, working your intelligence in many ways, but if you resist, attached to your own concepts, a situation like the one you criticized appears in your life, so that, FEELING IN YOUR SKIN, you can understand this relativism and learn to respect the privacy of others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Spiritist Institute
• Release date: Nov 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215346327

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Toña looked through the open door of the slaves’ room with foggy and sad eyes.  She was confused and scared, her hands were shaking and the marks that the weight of the years had been engraved on her body could be seen. She was almost 97 years old, and she had lived between fear and tears, she had resisted numerous and successive struggles, suffering, anguish, and despair, and had witnessed the lack of love and solidarity many times.

She was thinking like that when Juan, a still young black boy, appeared at the door and asked:

– So, grandma Toña, you are not coming?

Toña looked at him in awe, surprised by his presence, and hesitantly answered:

– What did you say?

I asked whether you will come or not. The caravan is ready to go, and everyone is already gathered on the terrace. Only you are missing.

Toña looked away and looked towards the horizon as if recalling what was happening. Yes, she thought, it is time to go. But, where to go? How will her life be from now on? She had dreamed a lot about thatday…

She had dreamed of the day in which freedom would end with her years of torture and humiliation. She had witnessed many struggles to achieve that day. There were beatings and more beatings that she had witnessed on her brothers tied to the log, who felt in their skin the sharp end of the whip that punished them without mercy. And, for what? To end their days as they were born: prisoners of their skin, their condition of slaves, and their misery.

She looked at Juan again and finally answered: – Juan, where is everyone going? What are you going to do from now on? – Juan, confused, was not sure what to answer. I have never thought about that. He was young, healthy and he was not a slave either, granted by the Law of Free Womb. Even Toña, of almost 97 years old, had been free for three years  before  the Sexagenarian Law was enacted. She had stayed on the farm by choice because she did not have where to go, so she could stay with her people.

– Grandma Toña, I don’t know where everyone is going. All I know is that I don’t want to spend another minute here, in this horrible place, where my parents suffered a lot, and so did you . Come with me, please. Everyone is waiting for you . Don’t you want to go?

The old lady looked at him with affection and understanding, and answered with her voice drowned by the tears that started to slowly fall down her cheeks.

– My son, for a long time I wanted nothing more than to leave this place and never come back. But now… I don’t know.

– How can you say that? You were never happy here.

– This is the world that God gave me, and I don’t remember any other. What will become of me out there? Won’t I suffer anymore? I am alone, I have no one, no children, no siblings, nothing…

– Don’t say that. You have all of us. We are your people, your people. How can you think that you are alone?

– That’s very kind of you, Juan, but I don’t want to be an obstacle in anyone’s life. I know I’m old, I don’t see well, and I can no longer work. I would be a burden on any of you. Besides, I don’t know what awaits us on the other side of these mountains.

– Freedom, grandma Toña, the desired freedom!

– Will it be, Juan? Will breaking the iron shackles be enough to get us out of captivity? Even if we stop being slaves, we will continue to be black and poor. And white people don’t like blacks. How will we survive in a world dominated by white people?

– You’re being really harsh. Think about those people who fought for us to be free. If there are many bad white people then there are certainly good ones too. Otherwise, we will continue to be slaves.

– Maybe you’re right, I don’t know…

– You’re just scared, that’s normal. We all are. But we have to fight against this fear. We are also people. Don’t you think we deserve our place in the world, like anyone else?

Toña didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and kept crying softly. Would he be right? It was necessary to fight, and the struggle wasn’t over yet. The first stage may have been won, but the fight against prejudices still remained. Yes, although free, they had to be accepted by the white people like equals, like siblings, children of the same God. Could they?

When she opened her eyes, Juan wasn’t there. Did he leave? Had he given up trying to convince her and left, being scared to be abandoned? No. Toña knew her people. Certainly, Juan, not being able to convince her, went out to look for help.

Looking through Toña, he saw a big house far away. The closed doors and windows looked like nobody lived there. Even the chimney, that always exhaled the delicious smoke from the stove, seemed to have life. It was like everybody was sleeping or absent. Nobody… Nobody had come to say goodbye or wish them luck. As expected.  Of all the residents of the house, only Luciano and Clarissa cared. Even though they were Licurgo’s great-grandchildren, they didn’t look like him at all. She was even surprised that the two of them didn’t appear to say goodbye. However, she suddenly saw them cross the courtyard, accompanied by the little black boy Juan, who had been pointing repeatedly at the slaves’ house. Soon after, the three of them appeared at the door, and Clarissa, all sweet, greeted:

– So, grandma Toña, how are you?

– I’m fine, my girl, thank you.

– You are not going? Said Luciano –. Everyone else is ready.

– I know. I know. I’m the only one missing, right?

– It seems so.

– Why are you in a hurry to get rid of me?

– Now, grandma Toña, what nonsense – replied Clarissa –. We simply don’t understand why you don’t want to go. I mean, all the slaves, former slaves, are in great commotion to leave.

– It’s true. Everyone is at the farm’s door, ready to go, waiting for you. What are you waiting for?

– I don’t know... –. She stuttered –... I’m afraid... I think... I don’t want to... go...

– See? – Interrupted Juan –. Didn’t I say so? She refuses to go, you now understand...

– Calm down, Juan – assured Luciano – and let everything be with us. Go ahead. She will be with you soon.

Juan walked away and Luciano looked at Toña with an air of deep admiration.

He, softly holding her hands, asked:

– Don’t you want to tell us what is happening? We thought that you would be happy with the abolition; however, we find you here, crying, refusing to accompany your own people. What happened?

Toña, with her eyes drowned in tears, shook Luciano’s hand and began to cry compulsively, saying between sobs:

– Oh young man, you don’t understand! You are too young to understand.

– You are wrong, Toña. I understand very well. Do you know how much Clarissa and I fought for your freedom, even against the wishes of my grandfather and the father? 

– It’s true, grandma Toña – The girl agreed –. We were always by your side.

– Yes, I know, and I’m very grateful for that. But that freedom is not for me. It’s for the youngest people, who still have hope in their hearts. The freedom that I await today is another one, and you can’t give it to me.

– How so? What freedom is that?

– It’s the soul’s freedom that only God can give.

– Don’t talk like that grandma Toña, I’m sad.

– Don’t be like that, girl. You are also too young and have a whole life to live. Enjoy your life; I already used mine.

– What nonsense– said Luciano –. You can still enjoy the rest of your life and live your last days in freedom. Wouldn’t it be good?

– Yes, it would. But not so far from here. I no longer have the strength for that.

– Good...

– Please, let me stay.

– I would love to, but I can’t. Dad doesn’t want any more black people here. He said that if they wanted to go, they could, but nobody can stay in his land. That’s what he said.

– Oh my god! Oh my god! I beg you not to leave me. I feel that if I go, I will not live long enough to complete my journey. And I would like to end my days here, safe, where I have always lived.

– ¿Even far away from your people?

– Even far away from my people. They have their lives. I don’t have the right to make them stay.

– I don’t know. Dad will get angry.

– Now, Luciano, what’s that? Now you’re scared of dad?

– Please, young man, ask him – Toña begged –. I will not bother anyone. I will keep quiet here in my corner. Please…

Luciano was confused. Even though he wanted to let her stay, he was afraid that his father would not approve it. Clarissa; however, decided to end the discussion.

– Very well, Luciano. Grandma Toña can stay. Leave dad to me, I will know how to convince him.

He looked hesitant at her sister, but finally agreed:

– Good, talk to him then.

– I will do it now.

Clarissa left and came back after almost one hour, with the permission for Toña to stay. The father finally agreed after Clarissa reminded him that the old slave had been a babysitter of all the kids there, including himself. Then, although reluctantly, old Fortunato finally agreed. Not out of gratitude for the former slave, but to please the girl Clarissa, who was his favorite in his father’s heart.

– Very well – she said, as soon as she came back to the slaves’ rooms –, everything was solved. Dad agreed.

– Oh! Blessed be you, little girl! Thank you so much, God will pay you twice.

– But, what is that  , grandma Toña? No need to thank, no.

– How did you get it? – Luciano wanted to know, full of curiosity – And so fast!

– Now, little brother, I have my methods. I know dad, and I know what strategies to use with him.

– Come on. The important thing is that you did it.

– Yes, and now we will have to tell the others that grandma Toña will not go. Dad said that she could stay inside the slaves’ room.

Toña cried tears of gratitude. The guys were very dedicated and loving to her, and that was reassuring to her weary heart.

Toña’s friends received the news with a certain sadness but ended up accepting her decision. After all, she was right. She was old, and the journey could be very painful for her. Not to mention that, indeed, it would be an obstacle for the others who would have to worry about her health and wellbeing.  She was grateful to the girl, Clarissa, and the young man, Luciano, who welcomed her with so much affection. After saying goodbye, she left, without contemplating their souls, nor the slightest sorrow or longing for the farm San Jeronimo.

After being comfortably installed in the small room that has been reserved for her, Clarissa and Luciano, who highly admired her, began to pamper her daily. One day, when they were talking about the old days, Luciano asked:

– Grandma Toña, why don’t you tell us your story?

– Now, you already know my story. Didn’t you see it back then?

– No, no. You never told us how you got here. Why don’t you tell us everything?

– And, why this small curiosity now?

– I don’t know. Suddenly, I recalled that you will be 97 next month, and I think there is a lot to be told.

– Hm. I don’t know.

– Come on, grandma Toña – said Clarissa excited –. I think it would be exciting.

– Maybe. Or maybe you will get bored.

– And, why don’t we try it? We are very interested.

– Well, if that is what you want, it will not cost me anything. On the contrary, it will be good for me to remember...

– Come on, tell us soon.

Toña seemed to wander as if she was looking for something lost in the horizon. She looked at the sky and sun, which were directly above her head, and remembered when she was just there, still a girl, of 9 years old, who was brought from Africa in a ship of slaves, along with dozens of her people. Slowly, she turned her wet eyes towards Luciano and Clarissa and began to tell them her story, from the day she was sold to the white Portuguese, many years ago…

CHAPTER 2

January was a torrid month, and the kids tried to keep the heat away from the best they could, playing in the water. Toña laughed out loud, throwing water in her friends’ faces, jumping and diving like a fearful fish. She was only nine years old and had a peaceful life in an Angolan small town on the banks of the Cunene River. At that time, her name was Mudima, name given to the lemon tree leaf, because in the shadow of that tree, the daughter of a slave captured from a rival town was born. After her mother’s death, she settled at the house of her masters, and over time, she acquired the appearance of a daughter and even started calling them mom and dad.

Mudima was stretched out on the sand, she had her eyes closed to protect herself from the sun when her older sister shook her roughly to tell her that her father was looking for her. Somewhat annoyed, she got up and followed her sister, without saying anything, she was convinced that her father had a boring task for her. However, when she entered the hut , she found there, aside from her parents, an old man talking with a white man who she had never seen. In fact, Mudima had never seen a white man before, so that surprised her.

Her mother cried softly, while the old man and her father seemed to be doing some kind of deal with the white man. Some minutes after, her father called her to a corner and ordered her to pack her things; she would travel far away, abroad, together with the white man. Without understanding very well, Mudima tried to complain, but her father ordered her to be quiet and obey; those were the orders of the chief in the tribe. 

But Mudima didn’t want to obey. She was scared, she didn’t want to leave. After all, even though she wasn’t their real daughter, those were the only parents she had ever known, and she wasn’t willing to abandon them just like that. She called her mother and asked her what was happening. Why should I go? Where am I going? Who was that stranger of discolored skin who seemed to be governing there?

The mother, however, didn’t stop crying, until she couldn’t bear it anymore and got away from Mudima, running madly to the field.

With her bag ready, her father took her hand and dragged her to the door. Terrified, Mudima started to shout and kick. I don’t understand this. Why are they sending me far away? Is it because I am a slave? But, it wasn’t fair. She had lived there, with that family, all her life, and she loved her parents and siblings. She thought they loved her too. She was devastated by that rejection. Finally, her mother, in pain, ran to her and said with tears in her eyes:

– Mudima, my daughter, I love you so much. However, there is nothing I can do, because the chief of the tribe sold you to that white man you saw in our shop.

– Sold? How was that?

– He trade you for a handful of tobacco and liquor.

– But, how? – She was confused and scared –. What did I do?

– You didn’t do anything. But, you are a slave here, and the chief said you could be sold. The white man bought you along with some other young men that were also enslaved. I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything. Just remember that we love you as if you were ours, and we will be praying to the inkince¹ to protect you.

– But, mom, I don’t want to go, I don’t!

The merchant arrived with a kind of necklace in his hands, he pushed her mother away, put it around Mudima’s neck, and pulled her out. She, terrified, kicked more and more, letting the bag with her clothes fall, which the man kicked.

– You won’t need this rags – he said with contempt –. Now follow me and be quiet, if you don’t want to get hit.

However, Mudima not knowing the language of the white man, she screamed aloud and stretched her arms in an imploring gesture, begging her mother to save her. The merchant, tired of the commotion, tightened the necklace around her neck with a strength that almost choked her, pulling her violently. The girl fell to the ground and began to gasp, and the man, merciless, left dragging her across the rough ground, meanwhile, she was trying to hold onto the necklace desperately to avoid choking.

And that’s how Mudima left, crying and sobbing, in her eyes were all the pain that she felt in that moment: the pain of abandonment, humiliation, and contempt… The mother, before her helplessness, was there crying, supported by the strong arms of her husband, looking horrified at the departure of the girl that she had raised and loved as her daughter.

Over a short period of time, Mudima joined the rest of the group, formed by sturdy young men, all bound by the neck. The girl cried non-stop, calling her mother at all times. She could not believe what was happening. That must be a horrible nightmare, from which she will soon get up. But, no. Everything was very real. In silence, she thought of her mother Kaitumba, goddess of the sea, asking her for protection as she crossed the ocean.

When she saw the ship, Mudima got desperate. She had never traveled by sea before, and the fear of the unknown made her stop before that horrible view. But, she was last in the line,  the only girl of the group, and the pull of those who were before her made her crawl again. Tearful, hold the necklace and screamed:

– I don’t want to! .  I want my mother! Please, I want my mom...

The merchant; however, when he saw that Mudima was still crying and kicking, disturbing the line, went where she was and whipped her on the back, making her howl in pain.

– Shut up, you miserable! – Roared, the angry man –. Otherwise, I will kill you right here!

Mudima, didn’t understand the words; nevertheless, she perceived its meaning, and flinched, following the troop with her eyes fixed to the ground with her back burning like a wound in flames. The boy in front of her, compassionate, turned to her and spoke softly:

– Calm down, girl, and don’t scream anymore. It’s useless to call your mother, she can’t help you. From now on, you have no mother, you have no one. You will go and never come back.

– What do you mean? I don’t understand.

– You don’t understand because you are still very young. But, they are taking us to a very distant country, which I have heard about.

– Before being captured in this town, the chief of my tribe, who also enslaved people, sold countless young men to be trafficked to that country. Now is my turn…

Mudima didn’t answer. She was too scared to say something. In silence, she followed the troop, her mind was spinning to ask many questions. There were only men there, she was the only child and female. She didn’t understand why, among many others, she was chosen to be sent on that journey without return. She felt that the men were also scared, but they continued, accepting with dignity the fate that it was given to them. However, when they crossed the bridge that leads to the ship, they hesitated in fear, feeling in their hearts that they were not only going into exile but to hell. Mudima, trying to gain courage, joined forces and began to sing softly, in a low voice, almost like a lament:

"E mikaíá, Selumbanda selomina

Demama e o mikaiá, selukó...

Selomina demama e, o mikaiá e...²"

Soon she was followed by the rest, who looked for the goddess of salty water to get the strength to continue with that deadly journey. The sea was calm and the sunlight hit the waves, shining as if Kaitumba was shedding her crystalline gaze full of bright tears dedicated to the children who left. The white men, at first, tried to avoid the singing, but the sound of the sweet melody, along with the unknown and enigmatic words, made them retreat and let the song continue, most of them even moved their bodies to the rhythm of the music.

When the slaves boarded, they were thrown into the ship’s basement, where they were chained so close that it was difficult to move and even breathe. Mudima was also chained along with them, and there were so many men there that it was impossible to specify the number. She recognized some from her tribe, but there were others from neighboring tribes and others from even further away.

The journey took place as if in torment. At first, despite the heat and little space, the black people endured the crossing well, but later, when the time stretched due to the winds and tropical storms, many began to get sick. Mudima had a stomach ache, her throat was dry, and cried for water. But, the food that was served in the ship was scarce and indigestible, and the water tasted bad as if it was dirty. Hunger increased every day, and the lack of hygiene facilitated the spread of diseases. Mudima saw many men give in to the plague or become bedridden, victims of banzo³. She herself thought that she would die because she frequently experienced nausea and headaches. But, inexplicably her child’s body managed to survive the infectious attacks.

When they landed in the Rio de Janeiro port, Mudima was skinny and weak, her skin was dull because of the abuse and lack of sun. After a short break, the men were taken to the slave market to be auctioned, but Mudima, not knowing why, was chained and tied to a car, beginning a new long journey, this time by land. Despite everything, she was surprised. The natural beauty of that country was enchanting and, if it wasn’t for the tragic situation she was in, she would have been delighted by the exuberance of the landscapes that surrounded her.

While she was sitting in the car, two men were talking. Mudima didn’t know the driver, but she could recognize the tormentor in the other, the same man who had tied her up and whipped her in her distant country. The two of them were talking, and even though she tried, she couldn’t understand anything they said.

– Well – said Manuel, the merchant – now go and see if you can do that. Mr. Licurgo ordered me to personally bring that black girl there. He said it was for her daughter.

– For her daughter? – Replied the other, outraged –. But, why?

– He said it was the girl’s birthday, she will be 10 and he wanted to give her a present. And she chose one black girl.

– Even so, I don’t understand. I think that such a large trip to only bring the little black girl isn’t justified. Why didn’t he give her a dog or even dolls?

– I think he wanted to give her a doll that could walk and talk… –. Replied ironically. Jorge began to laugh and added:

– Anyways, doesn’t he have a black girl on the farm, servant of the house?

– I don’t know. But I think it is because Licurgo orders to sell most of the slave’s children when they reach three years old approximately. He said that it’s cheaper to buy adult and productive slaves than to feed kids who don’t have the strength to work yet. Then, nothing better than a new black girl, to be her daughter’s companion.

– What! Only rich people can do that, those who don’t worry about money. Anyways, let’s go.

It was March and the strong rains announced the end of summer. Then, suddenly, a strong storm fell on the head of Mudima, who stayed attached to the wooden cart, while the men snuggled under the canvas. 

Don’t you think it is better to put the black girl inside the cart? – asked Jorge.

– What for?

–She could get the flu, I don’t know.

– Come on, Jorge. Back then, she could survive the tumbeiro4, then she can with the rain too.

(4)      T.N.: Small slave ship.

Jorge; however, a bit more humane, had compassion for Mudima, and insisted to his friend:

– Please, Manuel, stop it. Let the little girl get into the cart. She must be tired and hungry, after all.

Manuel, reluctantly, ended up giving in to the pressure of the other. Then, they stopped, and Jorge helped Mudima to get into the cart, he gave her freshwater and a piece of dried meat, along with a dirty and shattered blanket. The girl thanked him with a look, ate, and drank, then she went to sleep between some bags of food which were thrown on the cart’s floor. Her heart went to sleep soon, she already missed her homeland. Mudima felt extremely lonely and prayed, asking her inkices to pity her soul and look for her… She didn’t want to live anymore.

When they arrived at the San Jeronimo farm, Mudima, soon, was taken to the boss, Mr. Licurgo, who analyzed her as if she was an animal. He told her to turn around, move from there, touch one side, squeeze the other, open your mouth to see your teeth. Some minutes later, Licurgo looked at Manuel and praised him:

– Very well, Mr. Manuel. I see you did a great job. The black girl looks healthy, though a little skinny.

- Well, Licurgo – said Manuel –, the crossing isn’t the easiest, you know. However, I did what I could to leave her safe and sound. A couple of days of rest, with adequate food, will increase the strength of the little black girl, without a doubt.

– Yes, yes. Now, come on, let’s finish this, I have a lot to do. – He said and took a small leather bag from the pocket of his vest, which handed it to Manuel –. Here they are, 80,000 Brazilian real, as agreed.

Manuel, with his eyes full of greed, picked up the bag and verified the weight, looking satisfied with the result.

– Well – he concluded – it was a pleasure to work with you,  Licurgo. If you need anything, just give me a call.

– Okay, goodbye then.

– Goodbye, and good luck with the little black girl.

After Manuel left, Mudima stayed alone in that room with that big man of hostile look.  Despite she didn’t understand anything that he said, he could say by his gestures that he was a powerful, rude, and intolerant person and that he wasn’t willing to waste time treating her kindly. Surprised, she lowered her eyes and she was about to cry when she heard the booming voice enter her ears:

– Josefa! Josefa! Come here immediately!

Shortly after, Josefa appeared at the door and stopped surprised when she met face to face with the young Mudima, huddled in a corner, scared to move. But when she saw her, Mudima felt inexplicable happiness. So, there were others from her homeland there, and that made her feel calmer. In silence, she gave her a pleading look, which Josefa received with sympathy.

– Did you call, sir? – She asked, bowing.

– Of course, I did. This black girl has just arrived from Angola and doesn’t understand our language. Since you are also Angolan, I want you to teach her our language and customs as soon as possible. Aline’s birthday will be in six months, and I want to surprise her by giving her a black girl as a present because she wanted her so much. It’s time for you to teach her and you are free from your housework during this period. I want you to dedicate yourself only to her.

– Yes, sir.

– Now, take her, wash and disinfect her well, because she’s stinking, and check if she doesn’t have any lice. Then give her some food and let her rest. There are no tasks for her, for now. She will stay with you, inside the slaves’ room. I don’t want you to get involved with the rest.

– Yes, sir. Anything else?

– Teach her to obey and to put herself in her place. Talk to her about the punishments. I don’t want rebellious slaves here.

– Yes, sir. Only that?

– Yes, you can go now. Oh, I almost forgot it. We need to give her a name.

– She must already have one, sir.

– But, Josefa, what audacity! And, I will want black people with complicated names here?

– Why don’t you let Miss Aline choose?

– Good idea. Now go, walk. You don’t have much time.

– Yes, sir.

Josefa left, taking little Mudima by the hand, and went to the courtyard. She took her behind a shed, where there was a bathtub with water surrounded by sheets, she undressed her and put her in the container, she began to rub her with soap of harsh and acrid aroma. Mudima allowed herself to be washed, without complaining. She was even enjoying getting rid of that dirt. After all, during those months that she was traveling, she only showered once, that day when it was still raining.

Josefa, saddened, asked in Angolan:

– What’s your name?

Mudima was surprised to listen to her talking in her language, she replied awkwardly:

– Mudima

– Very well, Mudima. My name is Josefa, and from now on I will be in charge of you and I will teach you everything you need to know to live here. Do you understand?

Mudima nodded, but, deep down she didn’t understand everything. Why did she have to be there? Why did she have to submit to a white man, apparently cruel, who she didn’t even know? But, shortly after, she thought that her mother Kaitumba must be protecting her because she had put her in the hands of a kind and caring woman.

During the next six months, Josefa dedicated herself to teaching Mudima, focusing on the task that had been reserved for her. They got up early, had breakfast, and started with the classes, they only stopped to have lunch, and, at night, to have dinner. Shortly after, sleep. The girl was smart and learned fast, and soon mastered Portuguese and her own dialect. At first, she spoke with a slight accent that she lost with time.

Still, despite Josefa’s dedication, Mudima spent her nights crying for her beloved Africa, her parents, her siblings, but especially for her beloved mother, who she had seen cry. In those moments, when the girl let the tears fall freely down her face, the good Josefa, holding her to her chest, said in her ear in a low voice:

– You can cry, girl, your mother must be missing you too. But you have to settle because you will never see her again. Sadly, my kid, the malice of white men is so big that it dares to separate children from the chest of their mothers as if they were calves ready to be weaned. Come on, let it go and I’m here. Hold me tight, so tight, because I’m here and I will console you, I will try everything possible to compensate for the loss of your beloved mother.

Mudima, then, she gave in to her tears, and cried with such