This term 5A is studying Dragon Keeper by Carole Wilkinson. We are really enjoying reading the book so far. Poor Ping was a slave to the Emperor and that started to make us think about what it would be like to be a slave. We were asked to conduct a small amount of research to find out about slaves lives and to then think about what slaves would have to do, how they would feel and what they might dream about. Darcey wrote an excellent response. Here is an excerpt from her work.
Looking down at my swollen, red, bleeding hands. I seem to have spent all day out in the fields planting new crops of corn and turnips for my Master. My back is covered in painful, blistering sores that are brutally burnt into my skin by the scorching sun. My face is hot and dripping with stinging salty sweat.
I don’t know what I have done, or why I am here. All I know is that I’m Black. The White people don’t like me they call me “Filthy”. I am considered to be “bad luck”. I was sold as a servant to Master Brown when I was five. My family loved me, yet I was taken away by evil men. Suddenly my world was changed. One side of America decided they didn’t like the other. I no longer have a life, or freedom, family or friends. I no longer have happiness.
“Make my dinner you filthy slave.” roars my angry master from the top balcony of the homestead. I have always found Master Brown to be one of those people who doesn’t know how lucky he is. After all, he has got five hard working slaves, plenty of money, a beautiful house and he doesn’t even have a job! He doesn’t know how hard the rest of us blacks have got it.”
“Yes Master.” I say submissively. He gazes over the fields, that I have been working on endlessly, my sweat and tears have gone into this, to make sure it is perfect for him. I would’ve thought he’d be happy with all these new crops planted. Instead he snickers, with an unpleasant look on his miserable face and slowly returns back to his room.
I run to the homestead leaving my old broom leaning on the side of the freshly painted wooden shed. I slowly creep into Master Brown’s house, making sure I don’t disturb him and his deep, dark, miserable silence. After creeping around like a tiny mouse, I attend to making his dinner. There is an awful lot of food for just one man. My stomach aches every night, at the wonderful thought of fresh vegetables, juicy meat and steamed potatoes. I get to work, adding the vegetables into the pot one by one. Beautiful smells wander from the food causing my mouth to water, I desperately want to take some food for me and the other slaves. Surely Master Brown will not notice, or would he? After all he eats enough food to feed five ravenous families. I decide not to take such a risk and ignore the temptation. I pick up the shiny silver bowl and fill it to the brim with steaming hot food. This makes the awful pain in my stomach grow into a large beast. Another angry order bellows from the dining room, “Where’s my food? Ten lashings for you!”
“Sorry Master!” I reply from the kitchen as I quicken up my pace.