Twenty miles from yesterday

Twelve-year-old Anthony Bowen, a slave on the Bradley Manor plantation learned from Moab Jackson, a Washington coachman, how he purchased his own freedom.

"You the first colored man I’ve ever met that’s free. How did you get free?" Anthony asked.

"Well, that be a long story. To make it short, I bought myself," Moab said, his dark face beaming with pride.

"What do you mean, you bought yourself?" Anthony asked, looking puzzled.

"It be like this. I was once a slave like ya’ll. My owner was an old widow woman who says she was a Christian. One day I up and tells her I wants my freedom. After a bit of thinking, she say she give me my freedom if I work for her during the day, and hire myself out at night for pay. She say if I earns two hundred and fifty dollars and give it to her, she free me just before she die." Moab’s words were muffled as he ate and spoke at the same time.

"Two hundred and fifty dollars. That’s more money than I ever hear tell of. How long it take you to get yourself that much money?" Hattie asked.

"I works at night for fifteen years. Fifteen long years. Sometime making a couple of pennies here, a nickel there, but I wants my freedom so bad I never gives up on my dream. Sometime I say to the Lord, ‘It don’t look like I ever gonna get no two hundred and fifty dollars.’ The Lord say back to me in a dream, ‘Just keep on working, Moab.’ That’s just what I did. Now when I give her the two hundred and fifty dollars she says I be free the day she die. Well, the Lord took his good time about it. She up and lived another three years, but when she died she kept her word and I was a free man," Moab said proudly.

"I’ve prayed so long for freedom," Ruth said, wiping tears from her cheek. "But God don’t seem to hear nothing I say. I want Anthony to be free some day. They sold my husband when he was a little boy, and all my prayers that he will return some day ain’t been answered.

Anthony rose from his stool and hugged Ruth. "We gonna be free one day, Mama. Don’t cry."

"Ain’t that sweet. That great day surely coming, boy," Moab said, flashing a toothy grin. "But you gotta keep hope alive and you gotta have a plan."

"What you mean, a plan?" Anthony inquired.

"Listen up, boy. First, you gotta wants freedom so bad you can taste it. You gotta breathe it. The good Lord ain’t gonna send down no angels to set you free. You gotta set your mind on freedom and plan for freedom," he said, scooping the last of the black-eye peas from his plate. "You gotta let the good Lord help you think about freedom and 'do for freedom. That’s what I mean about having a plan."

The passion in his voice reminded Ruth of their preacher. For a few moments there was silence in the kitchen. Ruth looked up at the ceiling and spoke in a strong determined voice. "You know, Moab Jackson, I think the spirit of the Lord be in this place. Last Sunday our preacher says he gonna preach this very evening ‘bout how Moses got freedom for his people. Now here you come with all your freedom talk."

"The Lord works in mighty strange ways. Never forget that. I worked for fifteen years to be free. After I had worked twelve of them fifteen years, I almost gave up hope. Then, one Sunday I went to church. Must confess I don’t go much, but that Sunday I was sitting there when the preacher told us the story about Jacob and Rachel that’s in the Bible."

"Jacob and Rachel?" Anthony asked.

"Miss Ruth, before I tells him that part, could I have a little more of them black-eyed peas?

"You sure can, but save some room for some of my apple pie," Ruth said proudly, scooping peas on his plate.

"Sit closer to me boy, but keep on peeling those potatoes." Moab leaned forward and looked in his eyes. "Now it says in the Bible that back in olden times, this boy Jacob be in love with a gal named Rachel. This Rachel had a no-good pappy named Laban. Now Laban had two daughters. The oldest daughter was named Leah. She had pretty eyes, but she was one homely looking gal. In other words, the gal was just really ugly." He paused until everyone stopped laughing. "Like I say, that boy was in love with her younger sister, Rachel, who was good looking. I mean that gal was so fine it would make a tadpole wanna kiss a catfish in its mouth." Again he paused as Ruth and Hattie broke into another fit of laughter. Anthony stared at him, wide-eyed, wanting to hear the freedom part.

"Moab, you so silly," Ruth said, laughing.

"Now, Pappy Laban was a sneaky rascal. He made Jacob work for seven years; seven long years, for Rachel. Guess what? On his wedding night, Jacob was in this dark tent just

a’waitin for his Rachel. There he was, all excited and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her," Moab said, rubbing his hands excitedly. "That night the pappy sent Leah into that tent. He must have told her to keep her mouth shut and don’t say nothing, ‘cause, come first light, Jacob found out it was Leah. There he was, in bed with his arms wrapped around that ugly looking gal."

"You hush your mouth!" Ruth said, indignantly.

"Jacob jumped up like bed bugs bit him and he ran to Laban and cried, ‘What you done to me?’"

"I never hear tell of no mess like that in the Bible," Ruth said, throwing up her hands in disgust.

Moab laughed, "Laban say in his country the oldest daughters’ gotta be married first. Guess what? Poor Jacob had to work another seven years so he could have Rachel. And he did it, that boy did it."

"So he ended up married to both Rachel and Leah?" Anthony asked.

"That’s right. Back then you could do such. So I say to myself, if that boy love that gal so much he would work fourteen years fo’ her, then I surely love freedom as much. So I kept on working as long as it took and I got my freedom."