.chris_f2005

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You're now standing inside the slave quarters of a Barbados sugar cane plantation a hundred and fifty years ago. Imagine the talk and speculation of what life would be like without slavery. You're in such a dire situation as to never dare that freedom for your people would ever be possible. Imagine producing with the sweat of your brow and the blood of your hands millions of pounds of sugar each year. You look at the sky through the window and remember a saying your grandfather once told you. He once said, "All I remember about my childhood was losing my freedom, Henry. Alls I remember now is that freedom was very sweet...so sweet (he cries)...sweeter than sugar." Years after your grandfather's passing, all you can think about is what he said to you that day. Freedom is sweeter than sugar. Then it hits you...but I've never tasted sugar. Slaves get whipped for taking one once of sugar. I don't know anyone that has ever tasted sugar other than my granddad. The thoughts of what sugar must taste like keeps you up at night and you can't sleep. You finally decide that the next day you'll get you some of that sugar. While working out in the 95 degree heat you steal a taste of pure sugar. Your breath catches and your eyes water over. You can't breathe so you drop to your knees in the sandy soil. You begin sobbing. "Freedom is very sweet...so sweet...sweeter than sugar." How can this be is all you can think. How can something be sweeter than this...sweeter than sugar...