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RiotGirl -> RE: Slavery (1/28/2006 5:31:03 PM)
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quote:
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh LOL they actually have a book out called that? Hot shit.
yeah i love it too!! i'm pretty much an irish girl with german thrown in!
i'll give you an introduction to what it says on the back
Testimony of an irish slave girl by Kate McCafferty
"In Testimony of an Irish Slave Girl, Kate McCafferty brillantly re-creates this little-known part of the seventeenth century history through Cot's remarkable life. As the novel opens, Cot the survivor of a failed rebellion in which black and irish slaves have conspired to overthrow their masters has been called in for questioning by Peter coote, a disenchanted british doctor who has sold his soul to the governor of the island. She agrees to give her account of the uprising, but only as part of her life story, wanting to set the record straight for posterity. As coote sets down the testimony of Cot Daley, what unfolds is the tale of her amazing life - the brutal journey to barbados, the voilent transitions from beloved Irish child to "another's thing" the harrowing years of fieldwork on the sugarcane plantations, her marrage to an african slave and rebel leader, and the fate of her children. It is both the story of an exceptional woman and profound novel about the relations between slaves and their owners, imagined with power and passion."
"This is the story of Cot Daley, a young girl kidnapped from her home in Galway, Ireland and shipped out to Barbados, where more then fifty thousand Irish sold as indentured servants to the plantation owners of the Caribbean worked the land alonside African slaves. Most of them would never see their familes again"
And an exert from the book
"Once more we were tied and brought up from the sewer where we lay, moaning and squabbling like dogs. Up the narrow ladder, stumping our bare toes against the splintery steps. We had lived for months now in a world of brown and black; the only light a beam of amber soacked up by a wallboard or the folds of a filthy sheet, through the door taht opened twice daily behind Spaniole. Now he led us up the stairs, lifting his forearm against the hatch as we emerged into the quivvering, singing air.... "
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