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Hej y'all!

Just a quick note to say that I have not forgotten about y'all. I even have an entire story chapter written on paper and just needing a bit of editing before I upload it. Unfortunately, I also have had some mental health issues that are (once more) interfering with my productivity. In other words depression makes working on anything to be like wading through molasses. I keep moving forward but veeeeerrrryyyyy slowly. 

Dec. 25th, 1837

"On Christmas day in 1837, the Africans and Native Americans who formed Florida’s Seminole Nation defeated a vastly superior U.S. invading army bent on cracking this early rainbow coalition and returning the Africans to slavery. The Seminole victory stands as a milestone in the march of American liberty."

Dec. 25, 1837: Christmas Day Freedom Fighters: Hidden History of the Seminole Anticolonial Struggle

(click on the link to learn more about these bad-ass Freedom Fighters!) 

Part the Third (in which we learn more of Kennia's backstory)

Kennia knew that she had only a few minutes to complete her search of the room and then exit the building.  Even if no one knew that the man was in this particular office, some must have seen him enter the building. She quickly tossed the room, no longer trying to be subtle.  She pulled drawers completely out of the cabinets and flung their contents to the floor when they proved to be of no value to her. Finally, there was only the locked cabinet remaining.

Kennia glared at the old man who was still squirming about on the floor. Rifle his pockets or pick the lock? Either way, time was running out! She figured he must have the keys to this office since he seemed used to coming and going there, so she opted for searching him.  The first chain she found held only his watch but the chain held exactly what she needed: keys! His keychain was heavy with keys but only a few were the small sort that would fit into a cabinet door-lock. Kennia quickly tried each in turn with the third one being the one to open the door. Yes! Here were the sorts of plans and schematics that could be the object of her search. Some of the plans were for a new type of boat, one designed to move under the water rather than over it. Fortunately the dossier was only about an inch thick so it wouldn’t be too difficult to pack. She wrapped it in the oilskin she’s brought for just this purpose and slipped it into her bucket under some of the damp cleaning rags.  Now it was time to escape!

She carefully closed and locked the cabinet door; hopefully, anyone who found the old man would think that a scuffle had taken place rather than industrial espionage. If she was really lucky, the man himself would be too embarrassed to admit to the night’s events and would try to keep the entire incident a secret. She turned to where he was still glaring daggers at her from his position on the floor.

Kennia dropped her working-class dialect as she addressed him. “Like I said earlier, it might be awfully hard to explain how you came to be in this position. You might seriously consider keeping your mouth closed on the matter.  Unless you like looking like a fool.” She turned and headed for the door. The entire episode had taken just over an hour. If she tried to leave the building now someone might notice and ask why she was leaving early. On the other hand, she didn’t dare risk that one of the other cleaners might chance upon her captive lying on the floor. Then she had an idea. She went out of the office and into the hallway and grabbed a bucket of water that the cleaning crew used to rinse their dirty rags and mops. She tucked the oilskin package in its covering safely out of the way and then upended the bucket of dirty water over her skirt. Damn it stunk! But now she has an excuse if anyone asked why she was leaving early.

Sure enough, the foreman gave her the stink-eye as she was going out the side door to the building.  “Where ya goin’ gal? It ain’t quittin’ time and I know that you ain’t finished yer cleanin’.”
“Yeah, boss, I spilled dirty water all over myself and now I need to go home and get clean.”
“Ya leave now, then don’t bother comin’ back. And don’t even think about askin’ fer pay. Ya can’t have worked hardly two hours.”
“No suh, I surely ain’t comin’ back.” Kennia shook her head. She felt herself starting to shake from the strain of her act. She breathed deeply to calm herself.
“Don’t ya start cryin’ now, “ warned the foreman. “If yer leavin’ on account of that someone tried to mess wit ya, maybe I can help ya get on someplace else. There’s heaps of these offices that need cleanin’ around here.”
Kennia was touched by the unexpected kindness in his voice. “No suh, I reckon I got to get me some other kinda work is all. But thank you fer askin’ anyways.”
“Suit yerself” he shrugged and turned away. Now that was a lucky break!

Looks what's up

at  Paper Thin Personas !!! Beauty in Bloomers: A Steampunk Paper Doll inspired by Amelia Bloomer

Rachel Cohen, the artist behind Paperthinpersons, writes:
"Erin Winslow proposed a steampunk set based on Amelia Bloomer’s women’s dress reform movement costume. My first thought was, “No Way!”"

Reparations

Jamaica calls for Britain to pay billions of pounds in reparations for slavery:

"Sir Hilary Beckles, chair of the Caricom Reparations Commission , has led calls for Cameron to start talks on making amends for slavery and referenced the prime minister’s ancestral links to the trade in the 1700s through his cousin six times removed, General Sir James Duff.

In an open letter in the Jamaica Observer, the academic wrote: “You are a grandson of the Jamaican soil who has been privileged and enriched by your forebears’ sins of the enslavement of our ancestors ... You are, Sir, a prized product of this land and the bonanza benefits reaped by your family and inherited by you continue to bind us together like birds of a feather.

“We ask not for handouts or any such acts of indecent submission. We merely ask that you acknowledge responsibility for your share of this situation and move to contribute in a joint programme of rehabilitation and renewal. The continuing suffering of our people, Sir, is as much your nation’s duty to alleviate as it is ours to resolve in steadfast acts of self-responsibility.”

(click on the headline link to see the entire article)

Part the Second (in which we learn more of Kennia's backstory)

This office appeared to be the right one for finding plans and blueprints. In fact there were far too many of them and the search was taking too much time. Yes! Here was pay dirt in plenty! She quickly flipped through files and notebooks, hunting for the elusive “doomsday machine” blueprints. And then, just as her eye caught a likely looking file folder, Kennia heard a noise out in the corridor. She quickly grabbed her soapy cleaning rag and started scrubbing at a spot on the surface of the large, mahogany desk. “Oh, no! Don’t let me get caught this close to success,” she worried. Her fear made her scrub all the harder and she almost didn’t notice when the door opened and a wrinkly old white man came into the room.  He was dressed in full plantation finery, complete with a string tie and straw hat to top-off his linen suit.
“Come here, gal, and let me get a look at ya,” said the old man.
Kennia played meek and dumb for all she was worth.
“Do you mean me, sir? I’m just doin’ the cleanin’, sir. It gets powerful dirty here sometimes. It surely does.”
“Never mind that. I told you to come over here where I can see ya. Stand by that lamp.” The old man pointed at the one he meant.
“Yes sir. Just as soon as I get done cleanin’ sir.” Kennia answered. She was so nervous at this point that she almost wasn’t acting the tremor in her voice. She was not about to let him get a good look at her face. Kennia knew that her best asset was the fact that poor women aren’t noticed much. She was just a pair of hands and a scrub brush to most of the people she’d encountered while in disguise.
The old man became more and more insistent and his tone turned from cajoling to spiteful.
“Now look here, colored gal. I just told you to come over by this lamp. Are you feeble-minded? When you get an order, you obey it!”
“Yes sir. I’ve got my cleanin’ to do, sir. Please just let me go about my business.” Kennia tried to circle round the fellow so that she could exit from the only door.  Unfortunately, he was prepared and stepped between her and the door. He took another step towards her and reached for her arm. She quickly jumped out of his reach which made him even angrier.
“Now I won’t be sassed by some uppity colored gal, do ya hear me?”
“Just let me be sir and I’ll just get goin’ on my way. I don’t want no trouble or nuthin’” She made one last attempt to reach the door but Kennia could see that playing dumb wasn’t working.  She smiled grimly yet the old man was too enraged to notice.
The old man took one more step towards her only to find himself being spun about and his right arm twisted behind his back. Kennia wrapped her right arm around his throat, allowing him barely enough air to keep him conscious.
“I ain’t no “colored gal” and I sure as hell ain’t no plaything!” she hissed.  The man gave a surprised grunt in response. “I expect you have a habit of wandering around here, sneaking up on the good-looking gals and seeing what you can get away with.  I don’t play that nonsense. Now I expect that you will not be cooperative so I’m just gonna tie you up for safe-keeping. I expect someone will find you tomorrow morning and let you loose.  But you might not want to tell them how you got this way. Might sound kinda embarrassing in fact.” As she spoke, Kennia deftly slipped a bit of cord around the right wrist and then the left.  His face was red from rage even though he still couldn’t manage to shout for help.  Kennia took some of her cleaning rags and stuffed them into his mouth, being sure to tie one around his head to hold the others in place. Then she tied his ankles as well. As soon as she released her grip on him, the old man sank to the floor, completely helpless although still angry enough to struggle.

Cherokee Syllabary