“Yes’m, I was born in time of slavery—­seven years before surrender.  No’m, I wasn’t born in Arkansas.  Born in Claiborne Parish, Louisiana.

“I remember hearin’ the big guns shoot.  I was small and I didn’t know what it was only by what they told me.

“My parents belonged to the Harts.  My mother run off and left me, a year-old baby.

“I remember better when I was young than I do now.

“After I got big enough—­you know, a little old nasty somethin’ runnin’ around in the yard—­after I got big enough, they took me in the house to rock the cradle, and I stayed there till I was twenty-three.  I would a stayed longer but they was so cruel to me.

“I didn’t know nothin’.  I run off and stayed with a colored preacher and his family not far away.  You know I was crazy.  One day the preacher said some of his members was objectin’ to me stayin’ there and he was goin’ to tell my white folks where I was.  And sure enough, he did, and one morning I was out in the field and I saw the son-in-law comin’.  So I went back and worked for him and his wife.

“Me?  All I did do was farmin’ when I was young.

“Oh, I been in Arkansas ’bout fifty years.  My oldest boy was fourteen when I come here and he is sixty-four now.

“No, honey, I can’t cook now.  I’d burn it up.  I used to cook.  It’s a poor dog that won’t wag its own tail.

“All I know is I had a hard time, I been married three times.  My last husband was a preacher and he was so mean I left him.  I told him if all preachers was like him, hell was full of ’em.

“I went to Chicago and lived with my son a while but I didn’t like it, so I come back here and I been here right in the yard with Mrs. O’Neal eight years washin’ and ironin’—­anything come to hand.

“Now if there’s goin’ to be a death in my family, I can see that ’fore it happens.  I was out in the potato patch one day and it started to rain and I come in and somethin’ just bore down on me and I started to cry.  I didn’t know why.  I thought, ‘Oh, Lord, is somethin’ goin’ to happen to my son?’ But instead it was my grandson.  He got killed that evenin’.”

Name of interviewer:  Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Subject:  Birthmarks
Story:—­Information

This information given by:  Emma Foster (C)
Place of residence:  1200 N. Magnolia Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Occupation:  Laundress
Age:  80
[TR:  Personal information moved from bottom of first page.]

“I know I marked one of my babies with beer.  It was ’cause I wanted some beer and couldn’t get it.  And when it was born it had a place on the back of its neck looked like beer and she just foamed at the mouth.  And when she was about a week old I got some beer and give it to her with a teaspoon and she quit foamin’.

“And another time there was a boy on the place had a finger that the doctor had done took the bone out.  He and I used to love to rassle (wrestle) and one day he said, ‘Oh, Emma, you hurt my finger.’  And like a fool, you know I took his hand and just rubbed that finger.  And do you know, when my baby was born it had six fingers on each hand.”