|
|
Josephine Ryles, known to the colored folks around her home at 3505 Avenue I as "Mama Honey", was born a
slave in Galveston, Texas. Her mother, Mary Alexander, was the only slave of James Sultry, early Galveston
insurance agent. Later they were sold to Tom Snow of Polk County, Texas, and lived there until freed by the Civil
War. After e war they returned to Galveston.
"Sure, I'm Josephine Ryles. Only everyone 'round here calls me 'Mama Honey' an' I 'most forgot my name 'til you
said it jus' den. Honey, I be glad to tell you all I 'member 'bout slavery but it ain't much for my mind ain't so good no
more. Sometime I can't 'member nothin' at all. I'm too old. I was born in slavery but I don' know when. Me an' dat
Gulf got here 'bout de same time I reckon.
Yes'm, I was born in Galveston. James Sultry own us--dat is, he own my mother. She was de only one he had. He
had a kind of big place on Church Street. My mother did de house work an' cookin' an' things like dat 'til she was
sold in de country.
"I wish you could of talk to my mother. She know all 'bout slavery. She come from Nashville, Tennessee, befo' she
was sold to Mobile, Alabama, an' den to Texas. Her name was Mary Alexander. My father was name Matt
Williams. Mr. Schwoebel own him. He use to belong to Mr. Sultry befo' he sol' him to Mr. Schwoebel in de day
time an' come back to his family at Mr. Sultry's at night.
Lots of folks did dat way when dey was sold here.
"Den we was sold to Tom Snow. No'm, we didn' go to no market to git sold. We got sold right here in Galveston
without goin' no place else. You see dey sold my mother an' me an' my li'l brother had to go with her to de country. I
think dey sold her right at Mr. Sultry's. Dey never took 'er to no market, I know dat. My father couldn' go with us.
He wasn' sold to Mr. Snow so he had to stay here. I ain' never seen him again. After de War we come here to
Galveston, but my father wasn' here.
"Mr. Snow live in Polk County, two mile from Cold Springs. We was 'way out in de country. But we wasn'
lonesome 'cause Mr. snow had a big place. I can' tell you jus' how big it was 'cause I don' know, but he had a lot of
field hands an' dere was plenty for 'em to do. We live in de cabins. De white folks live in a wood house. Jus' a box
house like dis one, only lots bigger. It was white, I 'member dat.
"I can 'member de church, too. It was made out of wood, like de house, only it wasn' big. Dey had a white minister
who use to come an' have church 'bout every Sunday. De white folks went to church dere, too. Dey sat in de front
an' we sat in de back. Some of de old folks was funny. Some of 'em was old Christian people an' dey couldn' do
nothin' on Sunday. Dey couldn' even cook nor make a fire in de stove. We wasn' like dat.
"I never did no work. My mother was de cook for de white people an' my li'l brother, Charlie Evans, was a water
toter in de fields. Don' you know what dat is? He bring a bucket of water 'bout de fields an' give de hands a drink.
Jus' a water boy, I guess you call it. Dat was all he did but it kept him busy in de hot weather.
"Plenty of times people run 'way out of de fields. Dey use to work awful hard an' de sun was awful hot, so dey jus'
run 'way. De only place dey could go to was de woods an' dey use to hide dere.
"Mr. Snow use to keep 'Nigger dogs' to hunt 'em with. Dey was de kind of dogs dat has de big ears. I don' know
'bout 'em. Dey was so bad I never fool 'round 'em. Mr. Snow use to keep 'em chained up 'til one of de field hands
run 'way. Den he turn 'em loose to git de scent. Dey kep' on 'til dey found him, an' sometimes dey hurt him. I
'member hearin' dem talk 'bout how dey tore de meat off one of de field hands when dey found him. I was 'fraid of
'em. I never went 'round 'em even when dey was chain.
"Mr. Snow use to whip de fields hands when dey caught 'em from runnin' 'way. I never seen no whippin's an' I don'
want to. But mostly dey was 'fraid of de dogs.
"Yes'm, I hear some of 'em say somethin' 'bout jumpin' over de broom an' bein' married dat way, but it ain' true.
No'm, dat's jus' a story. I seen a lot of marriages, an' dey was married regular. Dey use to call you in de church an'
say matrimony over you an' call you man an' wife. De minister married you jus' like de white folks. Some of de field
hands didn' git married. Dey jus' live together without bein' married. Den when dey got tired of de woman dey quit
an' go on 'bout dere business. But don' you believe dat story 'bout de broom 'cause it ain' so.
"We didn' have no schools. My mother couldn' read or write an' I can't neither. After slavery one of de ladies I work
for learn me how to say my ABC's but dat's all.
"My mother use to send me an' my brother out in de woods to get her some of de blackberry roots. She use to make
medicine out of 'em. She use to take it an' boil it, den take it an' strain it an' give it to you for de worms. You jus'
take a few drops at one time. I guess I 'member dat 'cause I use to take so much of it.
"Den she use to take de corn meal an' brown it in a pan 'til it was real brown an' den make coffee out of it.
"I don' 'member much 'bout de War. I didn' care much 'bout it 'til Mr. Snow told my mother we was free. We was all
free, all de fields hands an' all. No'm, we didn' make no celebration over it. Me an' my mother went here to
Galveston as soon as we could an' my mother got work cookin' an' I went with her.
"I don' 'member much 'bout de slavery. My mind jus' ain' no more good no more."
