Eliza's Freedom Road: An Underground Railroad Diary - Hardcover

Nolen, Jerdine

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1416958142 ISBN 13: 9781416958147

Publisher: Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books, 2011

Synopsis

It is 1852 in Alexandria, Virginia. Eliza’s mother has been sent away and it is Abbey, the cook, who looks after Eliza, when Eliza isn’t taking care of the Mistress. Eliza has the quilt her mother left her and the memory of the stories she told to keep her close. When her Mistress’s health begins to fail and Eliza overhears the Master talk of Eliza being traded, Eliza takes to the night. She follows the path and the words of the farmhand Old Joe, “ ... travel the night ... sleep the day. Go East. Your back to the set of the sun until you come to the safe house where the candlelight lights the window.” All the while, Eliza recites the stories her mother taught her along her Freedom Road from Maryland to St. Catherine’s, Canada.

About this title

About the Author:

Jerdine Nolen is the beloved author of many award-winning books, including Big Jabe; Thunder Rose, a Coretta Scott King Illlustrator Honor Book; and Hewitt Anderson’s Great Big Life, a Bank Street Best Book of the Year, all illustrated by Kadir Nelson. She is also the author of Eliza’s Freedom Road, illustrated by Shadra Strickland, which was an ALA/YALSA Best Fiction Nominee for Young Adults; Raising Dragons, illustrated by Elise Primavera, which received the Christopher Award; and Harvey Potter’s Balloon Farm, illustrated by Mark Buehner, which was made into a movie by the same name. Her other books include Calico Girl, a Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year, and Irene’s Wish, illustrated by A.G. Ford, which Kirkus Reviews called “delightful and memorable” in a starred review. Ms. Nolen is an educator and lives in Ellicott City, Maryland.

Shadra Strickland studied, design, writing, and illustration at Syracuse University and later went on to complete her MFA at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. She won the Ezra Jack Keats Award and the Coretta Scott King/John Steptoe Award for New Talent in 2009 for her work in her first picture book, Bird, written by Zetta Elliott. Strickland co-illustrated Our Children Can Soar, winner of a 2010 NAACP Image Award. She teaches illustration at Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, Maryland. Visit her online at ShadraStrickland.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Life with Abbey in Virginia


February 6’June 22, 1854

Monday, February 6, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

I love to work in the kitchen, where I can be close to Abbey. One day I will work alongside her in the kitchen. She will teach me what she knows and I will serve a master and mistress. I do not know what else there is for me.

Abbey is my mistress’s cook. Mistress never worries to come to us here. All the time she says she is glad the kitchen is in the kitchen yard away from the house, where it is supposed to be. She does not like the heat or the cooking smells. But I do. I like them most fine.

Abbey is as close to me as a mother, but she is not my mother. My mother is Jane Mae. I never knew my father, but Abbey knows. Abbey says she knows every hair on my head. She was my mother’s dearest friend. She was the midwife who brought me into this world. She nursed me back to my health once when I fell so sick. Mistress said the sickness was Shock that came from the suddenness of losing my beloved mother, Jane Mae. Shock sickness is a deep, dark sadness that covers you. Even when the Shock has passed, it never leaves, like the smell from Sir’s tobacco smoke.

I love Abbey mightily, for she tells me the things I need to know to keep me safe. This night, before we slept, I asked her, “Why am I all the time so full up with thoughts and words in my head?”

She did what she always does when she tells me something I need to know. She smiled and patted me. “You got reasons so many talking words in there.” Then she tapped my head. Tap, tap, tap. “Your mama filled your head up with stories. And Mistress petted you and taught you to read and to write.” Then she said, “Eliza, you are a child who is all filled up with words.” I love when Abbey tells me these things. My arms are not long enough to wrap around Abbey’s waist like I did with my mother. I wrap my arms tight around Abbey as far as they can go.

Then Abbey told me, “You are not like me, Eliza.” First this made me sad. She is all I have now. But my sadness did not linger for long. I became the happiest I can be!

“Talk your words in this,” she told me. That’s when Abbey gave me Mistress’s never-been-used writing diary. Mistress had thrown it out. She cannot see so well to write anymore. I am writing in it now. Abbey gave me two lead pencils, too.

“Write your words in it. But do not ever let Sir see you do it,” she warned me. I know what she means. It is unlawful for Slaves to read and write. Mistress does not but Sir enforces the Slave Laws to the letter. Sometimes I am so full of fear for writing in my little book. But I must write. It helps me to think and remember.

Sunday, February 12, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

All day long I worked beside Abbey cleaning out the kitchen garden. Soon the ground will be warm enough to turn over. When we stopped I asked Abbey, “Tell me your favorite story.” But Abbey said, “I cannot tell the stories the way your mother, Jane Mae, did. I never did learn them good enough to tell. I just know them good enough to know.” When my mother, Jane Mae, was here, there was always a story to listen to. Back then, Abbey said, “Jane Mae told the stories right, from the old way.” Then Abbey did not speak for a long time. Finally she said to me, “Eliza, you should tell the stories now . . . you your mother’s daughter. Look at the picture pattern on your quilt, and remember how each one goes.” And Abbey said something that made a smile come up. “You already got them inside you.” She poked my chest and tapped my head the same way my mother, Jane Mae, did. “Remembering in your head and feeling in your heart tells you you always is loved, Eliza.”

Wednesday, February 15, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

This day brought too many chores. I did all my usual ones. The work was hard but I have strong hands. Every day I carry the firewood to the kitchen. I fetch hot water to fill two tubs for Sir and Mistress to bathe in; I fill a third for them to rinse off in. I do not spill a drop. I broom-sweep the floors. I peel potatoes and empty the rinds. I scour the pots. Then today Mistress said, “Now, Eliza, you must wait on me since Caroline and Abbey cannot.” Sir said Abbey and Caroline must help prepare the seed beds for the tobacco. Poor Abbey, she cannot stomach the bad smell from the tobacco, whether it is seedlings or the full-grown plants.

I had to serve Mistress’s morning, afternoon, and evening meals in her room. Mistress is not the same, either, since we lost my mother. She was not always so friendly, and now she is much more sickly and more frail. Mistress is beginning to look like one of those long-necked white egret birds with yellow eyes that live at the river. Abbey says Mistress has always been sickly, and sickest in the winter months. Now that things will be warming soon, Abbey says her strength will come all the way back. I hope so; this sickness in her body is causing Mistress’s eyes to go blind. Abbey says she reckons there is a whole lot in the world Mistress just don’t want to see. I try to understand Abbey, but sometimes what she says is puzzlement to me. Still, Abbey said she would teach me to gather the herb from the forest and prepare the all-heal remedy. But I already know this. I want to tell Abbey I know where to find the best all-heal. Mama always said it is best for Mistress’s ailments where it is wild in the deep woods. All my life my mother would take me to the woods with her to gather it. She taught me about plants and these things and what to do if I am ever lost in the woods. I will wait until Abbey’s mind is eased from working with tobacco to remind her of this.

Monday, February 20, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

This morning Sir said Abbey must do more tobacco. This makes her very vexed on Sir. She never wants to be around tobacco. When Abbey is most vexed on Sir, she speaks her mind to me. Today she said there is something I must know and always remember. I write it here so I will never forget. “The Slave has to be two of they selves. One self belongs to Mistress and Sir. The other one belongs to you, Eliza.” Then she tapped my chest. “Keep that one hid. Do not ever let Sir see that one. Do not ever let Sir know that Eliza is even alive.” Abbey told me this so I can stay safe. Some of us are beaten, sold, or more—much worse, than those who do not do this. And now, for the first time, my eyes are all the way open. I can see for myself what this is meaning.

This day Caroline’s oldest boy, Abel, was sold away. I have heard Sir say all the time to Mistress, “That boy do not know his place.” Early this morning Caroline came to Sir crying. She begged Sir, “Oh, Master, please do not take my boy from me!” When Sir turned a deaf ear to her, she ran after the wagon. But before she could catch it, Mr. Forrnistock, the overseer, caught up to her on his horse. He landed three heavy blows across her shoulders with his piece of rawhide strap. She dropped to her knees crying. Then they dragged her off to her cabin. No telling how long she will be down from the Shock sick.

This filled me up with such fear. What will Sir think of me one day? I said this to Abbey. But Abbey said the mistress would protect me. My head wonders why Mistress would save me and not my beloved mother, Jane Mae? I know Abbey did all she could.

Tuesday, February 21, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

Today my head is full of remembering. Caroline’s Shock sickness made me remember my own. But Abbey says the past must stay the past. I try but the remembering keeps coming to the front of my mind. I think of that day Sir sold my mother away from here. Abbey said that was a mean trick Sir played on me.

Early that morning Sir had called for me. “Eliza, you go on to town with Ezekiel.” Me? I thought. Sir had never sent me to town with Ezekiel to get supplies before, even though I always wanted to go. Ezekiel always goes to town for Sir. He cares for the horses and carriages, too. At first I thought maybe Sir was turning nice, but there was no smile in his voice and his hard face looked about the same.

The sun was high and pretty in that bright blue sky. The way we go to town, we must pass the whitewash building. “That is the Slave pen,” Ezekiel said of the place where slaves come to wait to be sold. Ezekiel knows all about it. He talked and talked of it but I hummed so I did not have to hear.

When we came back from town, I carried a peppermint sweet in the hem of my skirt so it would not melt all the way from Mr. Riley’s store. Mrs. Riley had gave two to me. I ate one; the other peppermint was to be a present to my mother. Sir disallows us to have pockets.

I ran from the wagon to the kitchen before Ezekiel had time to unload. I wanted to see my mother’s face full of love. But I did not see her face at all. She was not in the kitchen yard. She was not in the kitchen. She was not tending Mistress. She was not where she was supposed to be with Abbey. It was just a mournful Abbey in the kitchen, stirring tears into Sir’s stew. My mother was nowhere that I could find her. Then Abbey told me what had happened. “Jane Mae is gone. Sir sold her off.” I know Sir probably sent her to the whitewash pen that Ezekiel showed me. I started to run there, but Ezekiel caught me. That’s all I remember, before I fell down sick.

That day, Abbey said Sir is not for truth. He speaks lies. He separates us and sells us away when he says he will not. Abbey said Sir is the worst of a master. Abbey tried to soothe me with her words. But it is not words that I wanted. It was my mother. For how long I was down, I do not know. But when I awoke, Abbey and Mistress were at my side. Mistress said Abbey doctored me back to myself. When I think on this, it makes my sadness deep as the river. I do not want to be by myself all alone in the world without my mother, Jane Mae. Abbey said nobody slept well in the house for two days. Sir said Abbey put too much salt in his stew. He had a stomachache for a week. Mistress cried steadily. She loved my mother best. That was nearly about one year ago now.

The day I woke up, Abbey was still crying. I remembered my mother’s voice, it saying, “Be careful, my daughter, Eliza. But do not fear. You will never be lost from me.” And then I remembered what Ezekiel said: “Be like me, Eliza, and forget you even had a mama.” But I knew I could not do that. I will not do that. And now that I have my little writing book, I can remember everything about Mama. And like Abbey says, I can remember her stories because they are inside me now. I will write them in my little book to remember them always. This is my favorite one:

Each day as the sun rose, a man set out to hunt. And every evening as the sun went down, he returned to his home and family with the prize of his hunt.

One day the man did not return. Another day came and another night went, but the man did not return. A week went by, then a month. About the seventh month, the seventh son was born to the man and his wife. His name was Asa. The boy grew in a fine way. There came a time when Asa began to talk. The first thing he said was “Where is my papa?”

“Yes,” said the eldest son. “Where is our papa?”

“He should have come back a long time ago,” said the second son.

“Something must have happened,” said the third.

“I saw him go toward the village,” said the fourth son.

“I saw him go across the river,” said the fifth.

“We should follow his footsteps to see if they will lead us to him,” said the sixth son.

They walked deep into the forest. Finally they came to a clearing. There on the ground were the man’s bones and rusted spear. Now they knew what had happened to him.

The first son stepped forward and said, “I know how to put bones together.” He put them together, each in the right place.

The second son said, “I know how to cover the bones with flesh.” He covered the bones just as they should be.

The third son said, “I have the power to make blood flow through his veins.”

The fourth son said, “I can put back breath into his body.”

The fifth son said, “I can give the power to move.” Sure enough the man opened his eyes. He stretched. He sat upright.

“I can give the power of speech,” said the sixth son, and he did. The man had to do the rest on his own.

When it was all right, Asa hugged his papa for the first time.

“It is time to go home,” the man said to his sons.

The man’s wife was most overjoyed to see her husband again. “Something must be done to show how grateful we are to have you back in the land of the living,” she said.

In thanks the man killed one of his best cows. There was a great feast for all in the village. Then he took the tail of the cow and braided it. He decorated it with beads and cowry shells. It was a fine and beautiful cow-tail switch. Everyone admired it. The man said, “I will give it away to the one who did the most for me to bring me back to the land of the living.”

The first son said, “I am oldest; give it to me.”

The second son said, “I deserve it more.”

The third son said, “I should not be left out.”

The fourth son said, “Surely I deserve it.”

The fifth son stood. “My gift was best.”

The sixth son said, “I should have the cow-tail switch.”

The man thought, but he did not think for long. “I have decided,” he said. “I will give it to Asa because he did the most. He was the one who asked: ‘Where is my papa?’ You see, a person is dead only when he is truly forgotten.”

I know I could never do what Ezekiel said. I will always remember I have a mother and her name is Jane Mae.

Sunday, February 26, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

Today Sir was on the warpath. He made me so full of fear. When it was time to sleep Abbey asked me how come I do not write in my little book? I told her I have nothing to say to it. Abbey knows me better than that. She said, “You remember Sir is early to bed and late to rise, Eliza. These are two good times that Sir would not even pay attention to you.” Now I see I have so much to say. And the fear of Sir does not keep me from remembering in my little book, and I feel so much freer to write.

Wednesday, March 1, 1854
Alexandria, Virginia

I am Eliza. It is shortened for Elizabeth. Come April and this spring, I am to be twelve years old. Abbey will drop another pebble in a jar for every year of my life. Then all the year long she will have me count them again and again. I know that twelve comes after eleven the same way I know I am always hungry. Abbey saves what she can for me. But today Abbey said in time the hunger I feel should be for more than food. “It should be for your freedom.” “Freedom” is a big-sounding word but I did not say this to Abbey. Then Abbey spooned a crumb of bread pudding into my mouth before she popped the pan onto the floor of the oven. I ...

About this edition

• Publisher: Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books
• Publication date: 2011
• ISBN 10: 1416958142
• ISBN 13: 9781416958147
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 160
• Illustrator: Strickland Shadra