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The story of Grant Wiggins’ family – written by EN 904

character 1: great-great-grandparent

- born 1801, died 1860 - slave

character 2: great-grandparent

- born 1833, died 1892 - first slave, 1863 freed, then sharecropper

character 3: grandparent

- born 1866, died 1925 - sharecropper

parents (moved to California)

Tante Lou

Grant

Wiggins

Vivian Baptiste

character 4: cousin

- born 1930 - civil rights activist in the 1950s and 1960s - lawyer

child

character 5: grandchild

- born 1984 - lives in a ghetto - criminal

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John Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ great-great-grandfather (written by Maike)

My name is John Wiggins, I was born in June 1801. Near New Orleans was a small town,

which was my hometown. I never got to know my father, he had already been dead before I

was born. I had two older brothers, one of them died as a baby, the other was six years older 5

than me. He was called Thomas Wiggins, to him I had a good relationship. We often talked

about my father, and he told me everything about him. My father must have been a good man.

Our family lived in the times of slavery. As early as I was able to walk I had to do a lot of

things for our master. Growing up I got more and more things to manage for him. At first I

couldn’t understand why the master’s children were allowed to play while I was working 10

hard. But when I complained I was beaten so I stopped complaining and accepted this cruel

fate. At the age of 25 I got to know my first love, Rose. She was also a slave, owned by my

master’s neighbour. We rarely had the chance to see each other. The only time we met was at

the crop fields, where we met the first time, once a week. Later we met secretly. After a few

years Rose got pregnant. We already had a name for the baby, William, but before our child 15

got to see the world I was sent away because they found out that Rose and I were meeting

each other. My new master was much more aggressive than my old one. I was beaten every

day, even if I had done everything to my master’s satisfaction. His wife was the opposite of

him, she was polite and treated me with respect, as a human being. After a few years I started

an affair with her. In 1859 she got pregnant. When the child was born her husband got a shock 20

because it was black and he killed his wife. I was trying to escape but he found me and I was

killed in 1860.

William Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ great-grandfather (written by Irina)

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Man, what a life. My life. It wasn’t easy, no it wasn’t. I never thought that much about it, but

now it’s time to. Lying on my bed, suffering and dying, it’s the only thing I can think about.

Was it a good life? Was I happy and did I get what I wanted to? A difficult question, so much

happened and changed my life in one moment, most times when I didn’t expect it.

My childhood was as terrible as it could be as I was born into slavery. Thank God, something 30

changed. It makes me happy knowing my child won’t have to go through the things I went

through.

But slavery taught me something, something about family. Family is the most important thing

in the world, more important than anything else. Your family helps you when you’re down,

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thinking about making your life end because there’s no reason for going on. I had these

moments, oh yes, I had. But my family was there, God bless them.

It was one of the most horrible moments in my life when my father died. The master’s wife

got pregnant by him, so he was killed with a gun.

He was so great, he was a role-model and a loving father. God bless him. I’m not able to say 5

what I felt when I heard the voice of the gun. I would describe it like this: I felt like somebody

stabbed me right into my heart. Poor mother, if she’d known this, she would have died of

pain. God bless her.

Slavery made me strong. If you were hit and treated like an animal everyday, all kind of other

pain means nothing, really. When people told me slavery was going to end, I couldn’t believe 10

it. Of course we made some resistance and slowed down the working processes, but after that

we got no food and had to sleep in the fields. That’s why we stopped it after a while, thinking

it wouldn’t change a thing.

I remember the day when we got the information that slavery had ended now. I remember

every single moment, what I felt and what I thought. Thinking it was just a joke of others, I 15

laughed. But it wasn’t a joke, it was true. We thought everything would change now. In fact,

it didn’t. I moved to another farm in Ohio and worked as a sharecropper, but before that I had

to search for work for a long time. I wasn’t treated that badly like before but still

disrespectfully. The whites couldn’t believe we were something like human beings. Guess

what I’m thinking? Stupid persons! 20

Then the best thing in my life happened... I met Ashley. She was the most beautiful woman

I’d ever seen. God bless her. When she got pregnant, I was the happiest man in the world. But

Charlie, our first child, died because of sickness when he was three months old. I would never

want this happening to other parents. After a year Ashley got pregnant again. We were scared,

fearing we would lose this child, too. Then Jonathan was born. He was a strong, little baby. 25

He was the reason we were going on and on, even though it was very hard sometimes. We

loved him more than our own lives. And I still do. I know Ashley would also do, if she was

still alive. But she died when Jon was six. After that, life was harder than before and I thought

my pain because of losing her would never end. In fact, I learned to live with it, but the pain is

still alive. Now Jonathan is the only thing in my life that matters. I want him to have a 30

wonderful future. God bless him.

So have I been happy? My life wasn’t easy, but I know what living means. And my family

gave me the best life, so I wouldn’t change anything. Without my family it wouldn’t have

been my life. God bless them.

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Jonathan Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ grandfather (written by Hendrik)

My name is Jonathan Wiggins, I was born on 26th February 1866 in one of the old farmer's

houses near New Orleans and named after my grandfather John Wiggins.

My family lived there since 1863, after my mother Ashley and my father William had freed 5

themselves from their slaveholder. I was the second child and had to watch my brother dying

from hunger.

I worked as a sharecropper all my life long and got to know my wife Leonisse in 1896. With

25 I became father for the first time. After Charles was born, my second child Brandon came

into the world and later decided to move to California with his wife. He went to Los Angeles 10

and I never saw him again.

My family never had to work under conditions like in times of slavery, but we had to work

very hard to make a living and effort feeding our children. We had to stand up for our rights

and I had to fight against segregation all my life. The white ground owners still treated us like

animals. 15

I never had the chance to join civil rights movements, because me and my wife were glad to

be independent and not owned by white men like our parents. They told us a lot about living

under the white mastery and we tried to live our own life, but never could break away

completely.

Our children were a lot braver then we had ever been and tried to rise against the white men. 20

They fought for education and finally, as I have already told, my youngest child decided to

leave the family to strive for a better life in California. I was very happy about that, but never

to see him again or getting to know how he was doing was an oppressiveness I had to carry

with me the rest of my life.

Our other child Charles never left us and we were very glad, as he decided to take over my 25

job as a sharecropper.

I never could enjoy my retirement, because in 1925, after 59 years of living, I had to leave

this world due to a working accident.

by Jonathan Wiggins 30

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Tyler Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ cousin (written by Henning)

Hi, my name is Tyler Wiggins. I was born in 1930, on September 15th in New Orleans. I had a

well sheltered youth in Treme, a nice quarter in the city. My parents always cared for me,

both had a job and enough time to educate me. My protected childhood got shattered in 1952,

when I had to go to school by bus the first time. I will always remember this day. I may have 5

to tell you that I was brought to our school in the church in New Orleans every day, but this

day my father was terribly sick. I went in the bus, and sat down in the middle row, when

suddenly a young white boy came and told me to vacate the place. I asked him why I should. I

shouldn’t have asked him – the whole white people in the bus were angry about me. I started

crying until a police officer who was called brought me home. This event should change my 10

life. Before, I had wanted to be a teacher – preferably physical education. Afterwards I

changed my mind. I was fully into rights and law. I discovered the missing rights for blacks

and changed my mind: I wanted to be a lawyer.

In 1945 I joined the New Orleans Civil rights movement. The people there were very happy

to see me, such a young boy, being interested in rights and law. 2 years later, when I was 17, I 15

started working in a lawyer’s office. His name was Tom Jackson. I started making

appointments for him. From 1948 till 1952 I studied law in Monroe. In 1952 I came back and

worked again for Mr. Jackson, who made me his partner. In 1958 he made me the principal of

his attorney office. After my studies I rejoined the civil rights movement and started taking

part in several actions – Sit-ins, bus- and shop-boycotts and civil right protest marches. My 20

work as an attorney focussed on the defence of black people in law. I had success several

times and gained a lot of influence in politics and rights.

Now, I’m running the office as a boss, but I’m not in processes any longer. I employed

several lawyers who are working for me. Together, we achieved a lot of respect for the Civil

Rights Movement of New Orleans. 25

Life and work is good, the only thing bothering me is my cousin’s grandchild Malcolm. I had

to pull strings several times to get him out of quite dangerous situations. He was involved in

drug crime, and that case went pretty serious in the end. If I hadn’t talked to the judge on a

private basis, he would have been in real trouble. With some social work he might get on the

right track, I can’t get him out of that another time! 30

My life – the essentials in brief.

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Malcolm, Grant Wiggins’ grandchild (written by Karoline)

Yo! I’m Malcolm and I say unto you: whatever you might hear, there is no trust, no

meaning of life, no place in the sun or similar crock – just for the record.

So what’s up? Four or three days ago I left Bird and his followers. It’s a good feeling.

Really. 5

I know, you say gangs make everything easy. You say a gang protects you and it’s better

to go on a caper together than alone.

But I don’t give a rat’s ass! I’m going to do my own thing. I roam the streets alone again.

It’s a good feeling. Really.

You know, Bird bugged and I hated the feeling being kind of minuscule and an 10

underling. We always did what he said.

Now I can do what I want. Bird stresses, permanently he seeks me. He hates me for

leaving his super-troop. But I don’t care about it.

Today I robbed a purse. No one noticed. Well, a purse is nothing special. And you must

know, I don’t want to pick a fight, but I need a bit of pocket money. You understand, 15

don’t you!

And I must always laugh. Laugh about these stupid people thinking we are living in a

pretty world without problems, these people going through the world with closed eyes,

not seeing problems, these naive people deceiving themselves.

However, I don’t have a different plan for the future. I’m born for that: shifting for a 20

living. And I’m just a bit criminal. That’s not exactly setting the world on fire. Whatever

I won’t be harmed anyway. I’m too good. And if, if I got problems because I’m criminal

– haha – Tyler Wiggins, a cousin of my grandfather Grant Wiggins, will help me. He is a

lawyer and has helped me once already. Yeah, but – listen! – that at a time when I hadn’t

already known how life works and when I didn’t have long experience. 25

Grant… my grand-popi, you know, hem, I think he is a good sort. I think he was a friend

of some such a criminal - and that in his day.

However, I want you to remember one thing. I’m doing my own thing. Perfectly. And

that’s the best you can do.

He was a nigga yesterday, he's a nigga today, and he gonna be a nigga tomorrow! 30

What a niggy know

Yo a niggy know the game

This is sung in K.M.D.’s “What a nigga know”. How right they are, aren’t they?

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I’m a nigga, a nigga in a damaged society, where there is no trust, no meaning of life, no

place in the sun or similar crock.

Who cares?

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15

20 25 30 35

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William Smith, Grant Wiggins’ great-great-grandfather (written by Christina)

My name is William Smith and I was born on 6th August in the year 1801. My childhood was

quite pretty and my parents lovely. But at the age of 14 years I was sold as a slave. My

masters lived in Louisiana so I went there, too. And my life switched from heaven to hell. 5

Every single day I had to work in the fields. I killed pigs and chicken for food. But one day I

met the love of my life: Maria, the prettiest woman I had ever seen. She had long brown hair

and bright brown eyes. One year later our little daughter was born, her name is Rosie. But

Maria died at Rosie’s birth. I was the happiest man because of my daughter, and the saddest

man because of the death of Maria. I never understood why she died, and I still don’t 10

understand. From that moment on I took care for my little Rosie. I wanted all the very best for

her. But I was a slave and so she was one, too. At the age of 5 years Rosie learned from our

masters how to cook and how to wash the dishes. Freedom was all we wanted and needed.

Rosie often asked where her mother was, but I couldn’t explain why she was not there. The

worst day in my life was the day the masters hit Rosie. She cried and I cried. I tried to help 15

her, but the masters nearly beat me to death. My mouth bled, my nose bled, my arms and my

legs bled. Everything bled. And Rosie ran away. After one hour she came back, she never told

me where she had been. Today we are writing the year 1859 and I am ill. I know that I have to

die the next days. It is called tuberculosis - ugly word, but it fits to how I feel now. Rosie

takes care for me, she was always at my side, she sacrificed herself for me. I love her and I am 20

the proudest man of the world, because she is so strong and clever, she learned cooking and

the housework so fast. When I look in her eyes I see Maria. I live for Rosie. I am her dad and

I have to take care for her, but she takes care for me now. She cooks food, she makes the bed

and tries to make me healthy. She doesn’t believe that I have to die. But I know. I will die as a

slave with the hope that God will help my little Rosie one day. The next day I have to go to 25

heaven where I will meet Maria again and my life will be okay. My life was hard, but in

heaven I will be in paradise.

Rosalie Smith, Grant Wiggins’ great-grandma (written by Julia Hi.)

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My name is Rosalie Smith and as long as I can remember I was a slave.

My parents were slaves on a little Farm in Louisiana, but my mother died a few days after my

birth in the year 1833, because our master didn’t give her any time to recuperate. So my father

was responsible for my education. Miss Allistor, the wife of our master, was a teacher and

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cater for my schooling, which was absolutely unusual. Since I was six, I worked the day in the

fields and in the evening I learned with Miss Allistor, so I grew up to be a smart girl. I was 13

when old Miss Allistor died. From this day on her sons were in charge of the farm. They were

very strict and so we had to work nearly 16 hours a day. One time I was cooking some food

and I burnt the chicken soup. The masters started to hit me until my father interfered. He was 5

always there for me and I cared for him as good as I could when my father contracted

tuberculosis. At the age of 59, my father was very weak and died. In 1861 a war started

between the North and the South. The North tried to help the slaves to get free, but it wasn’t

so easy, because the South was absolutely against this plan. When I was 30 and the war had

already lasted 2 years, I got really sick and thought I had to die, but the Allistors didn’t care. 10

Then came the night I will never forget. When I lay in my bed, thinking about what would be

after life, Jim, another slave of the Allistors, came into my room and shouted that we were

free, finally. I saw a twinkle in his eyes that had never been there before, and that was the day

I fell in love with him. This relief rescued me, because I could search for a doctor to get

medicine. Jim and I moved to Chicago where we married because I got pregnant. Although 15

we were free, we had no rights. I swore to myself that I would never work in a field again, but

this was a promise I couldn’t keep. Because of missing rights, we only had the chance to work

as sharecroppers to get by. Due to the schooling of Miss Allistor, I could give my son

Abraham some wisdom on the way. We had to give half of our harvest to the white landowner

Luigi, so the harvest was barely sufficient to survive on. We didn’t have a lot of money, but 20

we were free and that’s what mattered.

Abraham, Grant Wiggins’ grandfather (written by Julia Ha.)

Now that my life is coming to an end, I think about it. I was born in Chicago in 1866. My

parents called me Abraham. In the past they had been slaves but three years before my birth

they were freed and began to work as sharecroppers. Our life was hard. We had a poor living 25

standard. Of every harvest we had to give a part to our white landowner. In the winters the

streets were so muddy that the oldest people in our village weren’t able to pass them. I had to

work in the fields when I was a little boy. We had no rights and no chance to visit a school.

All we had was our faith in God. My mother was taught some important worldly wisdom. But

our uneducated situation couldn’t improve our lives. So we went on like our parents had done. 30

When I was 17 I met my future wife. Her parents were sharecroppers like mine. Louise and I

married and founded a family. We got three lovely children but it was hard to get them

through. In 1849 our youngest daughter Vivian died. The conditions were too hard for her

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fragile body. We got older and nothing changed. The work in the fields was getting harder for

us but we had no other chances. Since Louise and I are too old to work any longer, my sons

have to support us with food etc. I’m feeling guilty. How do they earn enough for their family

and for us old parents? It’s winter and it’s cold outside. We can’t leave our house and the only

pleasure we have is the Christmas program our grandchildren are preparing with their teacher. 5

We will see it in a few days. Now I’m feeling guilty because I never tried to improve the

situation of my family and the other black people. All the pain we bore. What right do the

whites have to affect our lives? It’s a hard way for us to get through the oppression but in the

end God will help us.

John Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ cousin (written by Hannes) 10

I’m John Wiggins. Born on the 18th July of 1930 during the Great Depression. We lived in

Mississippi in those days. It was a bad time for a family to have children. Obviously it was

much harder for blacks than whites at that time. Three of my five brothers died because of

tuberculosis. There were only Henry, Stuart and me left. The little city we lived in had a

quarter for the black citizens outside the city borders. There we lived. There I grew up. Every 15

Sunday my parents, my brothers and I went to church and listened to the prayers of the priest.

I did quite well at school and often strolled around with my older cousin Grant who loved

hiding in the sugar cane fields. Having finished school I decided to see the world. There was a

little problem: I had no money and I was black. So I decided to join the U.S. Army. Well, I

hoped to come to Europe with some other soldiers to serve in occupied Germany or Austria 20

but things went wrong. North Korea decided to bring socialism to South Korea. The Korean

War started. My division and I were one of the first U.S. soldiers who arrived to hold the

region around the harbour and city of Busan. Ok, I was out of the States at another place on

earth but it was one of the worst to be. During the war I and my black and white mates

became like brothers. Our origin and race became negligible because we were all in the same 25

condition and the bullets hit both of us. Lying in the mud and bullets flying around me I

realized that all human beings are the same and that the segregation in the U.S. was

inhumane. I swore to myself that I would do everything to end segregation if I would come

back alive. After three months of war in Korea I came back to the U.S. and everything was

still the same. There was still segregation, there was still the church my family visited on 30

Sunday and there was still Grant who had started studying at a university during my time in

Korea. I wasn’t the same boy who left the States. I knew that there is no kind of human who

has to be second class or of minor value.

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After some weeks in the quarter I decided to study at a university like Grant. I studied law and

became a lawyer in the mid of the fifties. My time at university wasn’t always easy but I

finally made it. I opened up my office in Montgomery, Alabama, because I hated the retarded

city I had lived in for so many years. In Montgomery I also met the woman that became my

wife in 1958. Most of my clients were blacks because I tried to help the people who had only 5

little money. But I also had white clients who recommended me. I didn’t become rich in those

days. Nevertheless the money was enough to have a proper room in an adequate area of the

city.

It was the1st December 1955 when Rosa Parks refused to give her seat to a white passenger. I

was out in court that day. My client and I won the case that was about a car accident. After 10

having lunch I visited my good friend and priest Martin Luther King and we decided to

enforce our efforts in the fight against segregation. Then everything came together: The

boycott, the non violent protests, the March on Washington, the “I have a dream” speech of

Martin, the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Act. I always played an important role in the Civil

Rights Movement and was even in the White House with Martin, Whitney Young and James 15

Farmer to talk to President Johnson (I wasn’t on the famous picture). All in all I always kept

in the background of the movement and out of the public. The day when Martin was shot I

stood directly next to him. After his assassination I retired from the Civil Rights Movement

and concentrated on my job as a lawyer. My friends from my old Korea division helped me a

lot in those days. I retired because I reached the things I wanted to reach. Segregation was 20

officially ended and my black brothers got the same rights like the whites. During the years as

a lawyer I helped a lot of people and some of them were even my relatives.

I’m quite happy about what I achieved in my active days as a lawyer and civil rights activist.

Now I’m happy to enjoy my pension with my wife and the grandchildren.

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CJ, Grant Wiggins’ grandchild (written by Simon)

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. I went into a store to

get a beer, and came out an accessory to murder and armed robbery. It’s funny like that in the

hood sometimes.

My name is Carl Johnson, called “CJ” by my friends and for 3 years now “Inmate 237” by the 30

guards of Cook County Jail, in the beautiful city of Chicago. I am currently waiting for my

lawyer, some old friend of uncle Wiggins hooked me up with, who apparently still owes him

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a favour. I am supposed to be released next month, since I am for once really innocent. It’s

not that I’m a saint, I’ve caused my fair share of troubles, but I’d never do something this

severe. Joyriding, pickpocketing, small time stuff. There really isn’t much to do, growing up

in an all-black neighbourhood in an outskirt of Chicago.

I haven’t always lived here. I was born and raised in a village in Iowa in 1984. My father 5

worked at a little convenience store, with low wages and long hours, but it wasn’t a bad job at

that time for a black. I have mostly fond memories of that place. Memories of our house,

which looked across the rivers and plain to the mountains, and of me and my brother Chris

playing in the fields. It wasn’t until 1995, when my dad died, that mum took us and headed to

the big city. She was desperate alone and said she couldn’t stand the racism anymore. I don’t 10

recall any racism, but maybe I was just too young back then. She said Chicago would be

better, people would be more progressive and open-minded, not a “bunch of Rednecks”. She

was wrong, Chicago was worse. We got a little flat in an all-black run-down neighbourhood.

My mum worked at a local fast-food joint, working everyday from dawn to dusk to put me

and Chris through school. As I grew older, I became more and more aware of the racism that 15

still existed in the country. Even though decades have passed since segregation, most white

people still think of us as they did back then - that we’re not as good as they are. I think some

hold on to that belief harder because they have little else to hold on to. I constantly heard in

the news how our situation got better, but either they didn’t know, didn’t show or didn’t care

what was really going on in the hood. 20

For all the things they taught me in High School, I graduated with about half of it. It wasn’t

really surprising, since I only went to school half the time. The other half I did the usual. I

bowled, drove around, the occasional acid flashback. Being black here in the city wasn’t easy.

It’s a hunt and you’re the prey, you are trying to survive and they didn’t teach you that in the

classroom. Chris got shot in 2005 in a drive-by, no education can prepare you for that. 25

I don’t really know what I will do once I am released. People tell me racism is gone, but you

can’t make racism just go away with a piece of paper. Millennia of thinking can’t be erased

just like that. I don’t see any reason to submit to a society which doesn’t accept me as an

equal member. Sure we have a token black president, but is that supposed to make me feel

proud? Should I start working happily in a fast-food restaurant like my mother, collecting 4$ 30

an hour? I don’t see a place for myself in the future, nor do I see any future for the whole

neighbourhood.

15

written by Marina, Aiko, Finja, Marco, and Sarah

5

Grant & Michael

Barry 15 Harry 20

Dwayne

Harriet 35 45 50 Marco 55 Finja Aiko Sarah Marina 60

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Harriet, Grant Wiggins’ great-great grandparent (written by Marina)

I was born into slavery in 1801. My parents, who both were slaves, worked and lived on the

plantation of Dr. Hemington, placed in Louisiana.

My childhood was awful. The first years, I did not have any clothes, just a jute bag giving

warmth. Growing older, the master saw me working in the field, flogging me and the others. I 5

was small and didn’t look bad – he seemed to like what he saw and so I was chosen to work

in the house. This was definitely better than working in the fields: It wasn’t cold and I

received relatively good food. But foremost, it was dreadful. Dr. Hemington sought my

company, wanted to touch me, wanted to touch me in a more indecent way that I ever

imagined. When I was fifteen, he did this the first time. From then on, he did it again and 10

again. Everybody knew what he did, but nobody did do anything. There was no shadow of

law, so I spent days and nights of fear and sorrow. The mistress was jealous since her husband

looked at me in a way he was supposed to look at her – I did not look back. Nevertheless, she

punished me for something I really, really did not want to happen.

When I was sixteen, I gave birth to my first daughter – the master’s daughter. My life dragged 15

on like before: I had to work very hard, but additionally, I had to raise a child. In the next

years, I gave birth to four more children, one girl and two boys. All the boys died. When I

was 32, the master did come to me again and in 1833 another boy was born, Harry. Harry did

not die but when he was nine, he was sold to another plantation nearby, which is owned by a

less cruel master hopefully. I never saw Harry again, but I’m sure he survived. 20

Thenceforward, I just worked for the Hemingtons, nothing more. Now, I’m 59 and I’m ill,

very ill. I don’t know how long I’ll be living but I know it won’t be long ‘till I meet Him.

Harriet.

Harry Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ great-grandparent (written by Aiko) 25

My name is Harry Wiggins and I was born in 1833 on a cotton plantation in Louisiana. My

mother is black and my father white; he was a master and she his slave. She often had been

raped by him, so he’s the father of me and all my siblings. My brothers had all died before I

was born; they had all been much older than me. My sisters, who were also older than me, 30

17

worked every day in the fields. I hardly had any contact to them. Until I was sold at the age of

9 to another farm in Tennessee, I had suffered from a bad childhood. Daily whipping and

other punishments had been normal; in fact my master’s fantasy had always grown with his

cruelty. After being sold, I didn’t hear any news from my mother again. Anyway, the life on

the new plantation was much more bearable. Although my new master was very strict, he 5

wasn’t half the master my old one was, because he just punished slaves who deserved it

because of flouting instructions etc. I passed my youth and the rest of my life on this

plantation. When I was about 29 years old, I got to know a pretty black woman who also was

a slave and I fell in love with her. Her name was Agnes and she was redeployed from the

house into the fields. We were not allowed to show our love, because our master didn’t 10

tolerate a relationship like that between his slaves. But my turn of fate came in 1863, when

Abraham Lincoln proclaimed to abolish slavery. My master freed me and all the other slaves,

because he was a supporter of Lincoln. I became a sharecropper. Although I was poor, I was

lucky to gain freedom. Agnes and I married in the same year and she gave birth to our child, a

son named Barry. I don’t know why, but we weren’t able to have any more children. We lived 15

our poor, from now on eventless life until 1892, the year of my death.

Harry.

20

Barry Walker, Grant Wiggins’ grandparent (written by Finja)

My name is Barry Walker and I was born in Copperhill, Tennessee, in 1866.

I spent my whole life in the same house my father built after he had been freed. He used to

tell me stories about his youth as a slave, how his master had whipped him and how good life 25

was now as a sharecropper. He seemed satisfied with the progress he had made and was

happy to work on his “own” land. But I never knew how it was to be whipped, hit or kicked.

Even outside the small barrack we now owned I felt constricted. I had no brother or sister to

play with and I didn’t like the other kids working in the fields. I always helped my father and

he gave me a few pennies on Sundays, before we went to church. When my father died I 30

knew that I had to change something. There had always been fights between him and the

white man who leased the land to us. I was tired of him and the way he treated my father and

me. He arrogated more money than we could earn and he even tried to set our house on fire

one time. I felt old enough to travel to a bigger city. I always dreamed of the North and a

18

better life. I wanted an acceptable job and more money to spend. I planned to sell my father’s

barrack and the land he never really owned. I wanted to reach more than this. But before I

could leave I met Bernice and fell in love with her. She came to Copperhill alone with her

son, whose father used to hit Bernice. Like me, she needed a recommencement and I asked

her to live in my barrack, to give her a chance. She helped me to run the field and the little 5

house and in return I allowed her to stay. We worked as a team and I didn’t need to go away

any longer. I had found what I was actually looking for and almost like a family, Bernice and

I stayed in Copperhill with her little son. He was like my own child and to our delight Bernice

became pregnant two more times and delivered two girls. I was happy now and there was no

reason to leave the barrack. The old landowner died and a woman took over his house. She 10

sold the fields to us for a price way too low, because she wanted to get rid of the land. But in

1924, Bernice came down with fever and we couldn’t afford a doctor. I had to watch her die

and wasn’t able to help her. I burried her behind our little barrack and stayed alone with the

three children. I couldn’t live without Bernice and became sick and depressive. The children

worked the fields alone already and I died one year later, in 1925. 15

Barry.

Michael Parkins, Grant Wiggins’ cousin (written by Marco)

My name is Michael Parkins and I was born in Louisiana in 1930. When I was a young boy, I 20

was hated by the whites - because of my skin color. They did not respect me and they ignored

me. I could not understand it at first because I was only five years old. But my cousin, Grant

Wiggins, told me that blacks were hated by the whites. They hated us because we were

different - yes, we were black people. We were not allowed to drive by bus or to sit on

benches because there were signs with “whites only” on it. Even above shop doors there were 25

hanging these signs. If we blacks were going in we could be killed a few days later. If we

talked to any white person, we could be killed later. That’s why I became a civil rights activist

at the age of twenty. I couldn’t stand any longer that blacks were treated like animals. There

was no equality. But then there was a speech by Martin Luther King Junior, the famous “I

Have a Dream” speech. Grant and I were going to Washington, D.C. to the Lincoln Memorial 30

like 250.000 other people to listen to King.

After the “end” of racial segregation I decided to study law and to become a lawyer. Until

today it has been important to me that equality dominates everywhere in the world. People

19

shouldn’t be killed because they talk to someone who has a different skin color. This has been

improved but actually there is still some kind of racism.

Michael.

5

Dwayne Wiggins, Grant Wiggins’ grandchild (written by Sarah)

My name is Dwayne Wiggins and I’m 18 years old. I was born in 1984 and I live in the Bronx

in New York City together with my mother. My parents moved from the South to the North 10

and hoped for a better life in New York City.

My dad left us when I was four years old, so my mum is a single mother. She has two jobs,

but she doesn’t earn much money. Our apartment is very small and my childhood wasn’t that

easy. My mum had to work all day long and I often cut school and I don’t have a high school 15

diploma. Having no prospects I often hang out with my gang. Most of the people in this

quarter are black, too, and a lot of my friends are criminal and have problems and I did some

wrong things, too. My girlfriend is expecting a baby and I don’t know how to raise a family

without a job, so I started robbing. I’m not proud of what I’m doing, but there is no way out.

We all can not see any perspectives and finding a good job is not easy in these times. I often 20

regret the absence of my father, because I never had someone who could be my role model.

I can’t imagine what my future will be like, but I think I have to get out of this vicious circle

and to look for a job. I want a secure future for my unborn child, but the way out will be

difficult. 25

Dwayne.