Another Column written by Tylissa Roy. #3

Well hello again. I hope that I left you on the edge of your seats last week. Anyways, where were we… Oh right. I was just telling you about what life’s like in Sierra Leone. Well, life is hardly any better here than it was in Nova Scotia. Our settlement, called Freetown, has been struggling with poor weather, awful relationships with our new African Neighbors, as well as long delays to get a land grant.  Our life was very very hard; it was like we were reliving Nova Scotia everyday.  Each morning I awake with what feels like stacks of bricks on my shoulders. Only when Freetown becomes a peaceful place to live, a happy place for the younger generations to grow up, a place where work piles up on us no longer, then I will be content. I hope that my dream will come true, but I strongly doubt it. When I hear children’s voices happily calling out instead of the rough grunts and groans of the men and women, then I will be happy.

      I hope that day comes in a hurry.

A journal entry from a Loyalist living in Quebec, 1787

Dear Journal,

I have finally found refuge! I am living with a fella  who I made friends with at the Loyalist camp in the summer. He was one of the lucky ones who got land. He has built himself a comfortable homestead with plenty of crops and space for another person. He found me huddled at the base of his property inside a small shack. He invited me to live with him and his wife until I can find my own home. I get some food here, in exchange for working for the fella. But the food is not enough. He and his wife had hardly enough food to go between the both of them, and now there is another belly to feed. The food is very little here. Everything except misfortune and hunger is little here. Clothes- I only have the ones on my back, tools- there are hardly any tools to work with here. To make matters worse, the government has ceased to support us any longer. Some other friends that I made have died off do to result of ‘The Hungry Years’ – a combination if miniscule food amounts and awful insects.  Oh the cruel challenges of Loyalists!

Will 

A Loyalist’s Journal, Nova Scotia, A day in the life of a Loyalist

December 1789

Dear Journal,

I can barely hold my hand still from shivering long enough to write anything. My fingers and lips are as blue as the summer sky. We have finally moved into our new home, but it is not all finished. The home is large and drafty, and there are minimal furnishings. Half the rooms are empty or unfinished. I sit beside the small fireplace, the heat doing little for my cold body. My empty stomach growls pitifully. Food is so scarce! I hope that Bob will come home soon. He ventured into town for some more building supplies despite my insisting pleas that he stay here.  I here some boots on the porch, and a silhouette of a hunched man in the window. It is Bob! I must go greet him!

Love Ellie

Another Column By Tylissa Roy, In Sierra Leone 1792 #2

Hello again, newsprint readers. Here I am in Sierra Leone. You might be wondering what I, a black Loyalist, am doing in Sierra Leone. Well, it all started when Thomas Peters started petitioning against the conditions that Black Loyalists are facing in Nova Scotia.  He traveled around to get his petition noticed, and eventually it was, by the Sierra Leone Company. The Sierra Leone Company was run by people who campaigned to end slavery and they were trying to establish a settlement for free former slaves in, obviously, Sierra Leone.  We Black Loyalists had very little other options. We could continue to attempt living on the tiny rocky land that we had in Nova Scotia, we could join the British Army, or we could get  land and free transportation to Sierra Leone. Seriously. Rocks, Army or  LAND? Let me just repeat this:LAND! AND FREE TRANSPORTATION! I hope you are following me, and the word FREE is screaming at you the same way it did to other Black Loyalists. Mr. Peters had convinced 1100 Black Loyalists to go to Sierra Leone in January, 1792. 1100. That is a big number. Considering the fact that there were 3000 Black Loyalists in Nova Scotia. That number, 1100, is over a third of our whole Black Loyalist POPULATION (in Nova Scotia).  So we traveled, FREE, to Sierra Leone. If you have not already figured this out, my family and I also took the FREE offer to Sierra Leone.  I would hope that you have already figured that out though. Anyways, we were............................
Sorry, you will have to wait until next week's paper comes out to find out what happens. Well, you all have the textbook, so you probably know what happens... just pretend you don't. Let the anticipation build....

African Society Newsprint- A Clipping written by a Black Loyalist & former slave named Tylissa Roy #1

So here we go. I am finally going to tell you exactly what happened to me so many years ago when I was a slave to some nasty british administrator,  a rebel's slave to one of 'em 13 Colonies uppity fellow, and finally a Black Loyalist and free woman.  Well, slaves are never really free. No matter what, you still fear at the brisk call of a white woman and wake up from nightmares where the whites are separatin' you from your children. 

I personally don't wanna tell ya'll about the years as the British Administrator's slave. It was so terrible, but  eventually I was sold to that man there with them 13 Colonies when the British were losing the war. The uppity Colonist man, Mr. Riley, promised me freedom, which I got when the American Revolution ended. I, 

with several thousand other former slaves, went north to Nova Scotia, where life was still very tough. The first goal we had of course was to build shelter. That was not easy. They did not give me and my family supplies quickly, we usually got it last. We were forced to scrounge for our own scrawny supplies until we received the hearty cut lumber from the British.  Our land was not ideal, as it was rough and jagged, filled with rocks and debris. The older boys and younger men in my family had been forced to work for numerous other settlers in town. The wages they bring home are despicable. I do cleanin' and washin' for other folks, and my meager income barely put the dishes on the table, never-mind the food! We earned about the same as slaves, but at least we are free and no one can hurt us no more. I think. 

A Loyalist’s Journal, Nova Scotia, June 1788 A day in the life of a Loyalist

Dear Journal,

 We have just arrived here in this place called Nova Scotia. There are so many challenges my husband and I face here.  Thank goodness for the bright sun that greets me every morn. Otherwise, I would not find the strength to get up and out. Right now, Bob and I are living in a tent. It is very small and cramped. Every day, Bob gets up before the rooster wakes us and starts work. He hauls logs, stones, and bricks to the edge of the woods where we live now. When the rooster calls, I am up preparing breakfast over a hot fire. Then, after Bob eats, I help him clear the land on which our home will stand and our crops will grow. We have already gotten our Land Grant.  Later on, I will start planting the crops with Bob, and then to finish the day, we will gather more wood, bricks and stones for our house. We will eat a small meal and go to bed. This happens every single day, until all of our area has been cleared, the plants have been planted, and our house has been built. It is very tiresome and I yearn for our old life, filled with social gatherings and quiet time.

Love, Ellie