….it is about time to read books on slavery.

Approximately four months back, my amma went to Boston for a week. She came back late wednesday night and the next day, just as I was leaving for school, I gave her a quick update of what is in the fridge, chores that were half done etc. Basic handing over the domestic chores routine. I finished my update with, “Amma, can you make sure that the kids gets their school clothes and shoes on in the next five minutes?” Chula who was standing next to me the whole time immediately said, “Amma, you are treating patti like a slave.”

Apparently at school, during passover time, they had had a discussion about slavery in Egypt, slavery in America and Dr.King. So the child did know what she was talking about and was ready for books about slavery. I picked up some books from the library, of course after launching a full scale lecture that my mom is here on her own accord and can walk away at any time but wouldn’t because she is here for love and not against her will.

Back Of The Bus by Aaron Reynolds, illustrated by Floyd Cooper

BackOfTheBus

This is the story of Rosa Parks through the eyes of a six year old boy. The little boy is sitting at the back of the bus, like he is “supposed” to, with his mama and playing with a marble. His mama keeps giving him stern non-verbal messages to keep the marble inside his shirt pocket. The boy notices Mrs.Parks sitting at the front of the bus. He is confused.

She don’t belong up front like that,
and them folks all know it.
But she’s sitting right there,
her eyes all fierce like a lightnin’ storm,
like maybe she does belong up there.
And I start thinkin’ maybe she does too.

He is scared when the police is called when Mrs.Parks refuses to give up her seat. He asks his mama,

“We in trouble Mama?” I say all soft.
“No we ain’t,” she says. “Don’t you worry none.
Tomorrow all this’ll be forgot.”

But I got somethin’ in me,
all pale and punchy,
sayin’ it won’t be.

Don’t know why.
But instead of feelin’ all shaky,
I feel a little strong.
Like Mama’s chin.

I take out my marble
and start to hide it in my squeezy-tight fist.
But instead, I hold it up to the light,
right out in the open.
That thing shines all brown and golden in the sunlight,
like it’s smilin’, I think.
‘Cuz it ain’t gotta hide no more.

I was extremely touched. I love the way the author uses the marble as an allegory.

Every time Chula reads the book on her own she gets the same expression on her face and when asked she said that she felt very sad for the boy because he had to sit at the back just because he had dark skin.

More books about slavery
The Other Side by Jacqueline Woodson, illustrated by E.B.Lewis
Henry’s Freedom Box By Ellen Levine, illustrated by Kadir Nelson
Moses: When Harriet Tubman Led Her People To Freedom by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Kadir Nelson.