The Reclamation of Sabe X.

Her mother called her Sabe. Some say it was a mistake—garbled words of a woman in the throes of birth, misinterpreted by a tired doctor.

Others say the name was a gift passed down through generations, and she was just the latest ‘Sabe.’

Whatever the reason, it stuck.

Now she was Dr. Sabe X. She’d dropped Wilcher, her surname, after confirming research on local folklore that every black person in the county, with the surname Wilcher; descended from Henry Wilcher and or slaves he'd “owned.”

She’d grown up in the shadow of the Lattar Plantation, Henry Wilcher’s legacy.

Changing her last name to X was a reclamation of all that was lost. X held space for discovery.

Sabe's doctoral thesis was on The Lattar Plantation. She'd spent twenty months doing grueling research. Combing over manifests, interviewing residents and even facilitating DNA tests.

The work was bittersweet, but she relished the opportunity to connect with her unknown family.

Lattar Plantation was owned and run by Cooper Wilcher, a descendant of Henry Wilcher. Growing up, Sabe has bumped heads with Cooper.

Notably in high school when she started a petition to stop weddings and fairs from happening on the plantation.

Sabe never visited Lattar plantation for this very reason, she would not pay admission to see her ancestor's graves.

Today, however, was different, the city council had organized a free day of educational tours.

She was excited and scared. Would she feel a connection to people a century gone?

She wanted to welcome whatever metaphysical gifts were left behind.

Beyond that, she was still a historian. She planned to take notes and pictures for further projects and look for any physical clues from the past.

And so, there she was, standing in front of “the big house”. She wore a pastel pink silk dress; the fabric light, yet, comforting.

She barely listened as the tour guide gave details on the house. Two magnolia trees framed the slave cabins in the distance. They seemed to be calling her, their message sent over wind, through the trees

“Let’s move to the outdoor kitchen” the guide said “a faithful reproduction as the original burned in 1762.”

The group strolled around the house towards the kitchen. Sabe let space grow incrementally between herself and the rest of the group.

Soon they were out of sight, she turned and head towards the slave cabins. The cabins were rare, they survived time and were not reproductions.

As she approached, the wind whistled she looked up at the Spanish moss hanging from the cypress trees. If only they could talk! They’d been witness to all. Yet, they stood as silent sentries.

The cabin was a small log house coated with plaster. She gently opened the door, her heart thumping. Inside there was a bed made of hay covered by a threadbare blanket.

She sobbed as the floorboards creaked beneath her feet. She imagined her ancestors life here. The impossibility of living here. She thought of those who couldn't endure such a barbarous way of living.

Wiping her eyes, she walked towards the brick fireplace in the middle of the one room structure. She reached out to touch the brick, to connect.

Suddenly she tripped, she felt herself falling, she screamed as earth flew up to her face.

When she awoke it was pitch dark and she was lying on cool earth. She steeled herself and felt around. Her hands made contact with small objects. She kept feeling around. Touching what felt like a leather book. She picked it up.

She tried to stand but hit her head. There was a piece of wood blocking the way.

Sabe tucked the book into her large dress pocket. Lying on her back she pushed firmly against the piece of wood with her feet.

After some time, it moved, she pushed it completely aside and then closed her eyes as light flooded in. Her eyes adjusted and she looked down at her feet. The ground she’d fell into was dug out. In the dirt lay a teacup, rusted utensils and glass bottles of various sizes.

Sabe reached into her pocket and pulled out the book, it was a black notebook, very old but in good condition.

She took a deep breath and opened it, the yellowed pages were well preserved, the first page was filled with names.

Names she recognized, names of her Ancestors, her family.

She gasped for air, willing herself not to cry and turned the next page.

“What the hell is going on here” a man’s voice roared.

Sabe jumped in surprise, but she quickly returned the notebook to her dress’ pocket and turned to see Copper Wilcher staring at her.

“I fell” Sabe said.

“You’re not supposed to be here without the guide, look what you’ve done. Do you know how much money I make off this cabin!” he snarled

“How crass” she retorted.

Voices interrupted them as the rest of the group crowded into the cabin.

“What happened here?” asked the guide

Cooper looked away and two people from the tour group helped her climb out.

Back on main floor. Sabe surveyed to area where she had fallen.

“Incredible” she said “this was secret room. This is invaluable! We must carefully explore and collect any artifacts”

“Slow down Sabe,” Cooper yelled, “this is my property and I’ll decide what needs collecting. You owe me for the damage.”

“It’s Dr.X”, Sabe said as she whipped out her cellphone and called Professor Street.

Professor Street was a historian hired by the US government to archive material culture associated with African American history.

“Street” he answered.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve made a discovery at Lattar Plantation, please come as fast as possible, oh, and bring the sheriff.”

Sabe waited outside the cabin as Cooper ranted and raved.

Thirty minutes later Dr. Street and the sheriff arrived.

Sabe explained what happened.

“Cooper by law you can do nothing to this place, once an artifact especially these, from the antebellum era in what looks like perfect condition; the property comes under the federal government’s domain until further notice.” Dr. Street explained apologetically.

“What is this eminent domain?

“Something like that, look Cooper we have to get professionals in here to collect the artifacts intact and to ensure we throughly catalogue everything. This is invaluable. We’re going to have two cops stationed here. Don’t worry this won’t affect your house at all”

“I own everything here! Any money made is mine”

“We hear you Cooper, lots to discuss”responded Dr.Street gregariously.

After they’d all cleared the cabin and verified that the policemen were aware of their duties. Sabe and Dr. Street excitedly talked as they walked to their respective cars.

Sabe felt bad about not sharing the notebook but she was not ready. This wasn’t just American history, It was her family’s personal history. She deserved the chance to read through this notebook and process the contents privately. She would share it with the world after that.

After a shower Sabe wrapped herself in a robe sat down to read the rest of the journal. On the first page, twenty names were written.

At the bottom was a sentence written in beautiful cursive “don't forget about us.”

On the next page was a charcoal drawing of a family in front of the very trees found outside the cabin.

She carefully turned the next page. An envelope fell out of the notebook and to the floor. She picked it up, there was some heft to it. Opening it, she was shocked to see a wooden locket. She opened the locket and saw a clump of hair.

She was possibly holding proof of the lineage from which she descended in her hands!

She returned the locket to the envelope and then two other pieces of paper fell out. A yellowed legal document read:

June 10th 1972.

To my slave Delphine Wilcher, I leave Lattar Plantation and all the property therein. I grant you and your children manumission. This is my last will and testament.

Henry Wilcher.

Delphine Willcher was her 8th grea-grandmother. Sabe discovered this during her research. Was this Delphine’s hair? So many questions. Delphine died a slave on Lattar plantation... what happened?

She read the letter

If you're reading this our plans of freeing my beloved have failed and he has been sold. Don't despair this letter shall provide another pathway to the reunification of our family. We are fragments now but not forever. I've enclosed some of my hair. May it connect us. Don't forget us. Don't forget your family, whether we are oceans, or lifetimes away. This land is ours now. Our blood will no longer nourish the soil for others. We will reap what we sow. Don't forget about us.

Love, Sabe.

I will no longer answer to Delphine.

Sabe spent the night crying for the family she’d never met.

The next day she joined her colleagues at the plantation. She waited until everyone was distracted and placed the notebook back in the hole.

She feigned surprise when it was found. “We need to test the DNA and validate this will. Sabe is my 8th great grandmother. I want to establish this connection.”

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Months later, Dr.Street called, “The DNA results are in; you're related to Delphine Wilcher.”

“Sabe, it’s Sabe,” she sobbed.

Cooper called for The 10th time That day. She answered “Lattar is likely my family’s property, we’ll have to work out some arrangement but I plan on turning the place in a museum. And putting tombstones for all the names found in the book.”

“My lawyers have something else to say about this but I can give you something for your troubles.”

“My troubles? Cooper, you're right let the lawyers handle this I'm done with you.”

She hung up the phone before he could respond.

The truth is the will had already been validated. She and her family had plans for Lattar Plantation, it would be turned into a museum, an educational but a place where her family history would be respected.

Tires screeched in her driveway, she peeked through the curtains. Cooper’s truck was parked in front of her garage.

“I have 20k in cash for you, Sabe;Just need leave this alone. This is my family you're playing with,” he yelled.

“And what of my family!” Responded Sabe “Leave now.”

His tires squealed as he retreated. She stepped outside. A briefcase stood in the porch.

She opened it and there lay neat stacks of 50 dollar bills.

She counted the money inside. Twenty thousand dollars.

Sabe was furious. She slipped into her shoes and placed the briefcase on the passenger seat of her car.

She drove to Lattar and rang the bell.

Cooper appeared, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Keep the money, stay away from me and let the lawyers do their job!”

She hurled the briefcase, it landed against one of the house’s columns.

His cigarette slipped, and fell into the open briefcase, he lunged at Sabe.

She ran.

As he chased her, she imagined others running too. The darkness was suddenly illuminated. They both stopped.

The money and the briefcase were burning.

She was transfixed as the flames leaped from the suitcase to the long billowing curtains.

She knew it wouldn’t stop, this fire was a century in the making. She recited the names of her family who’d lived, worked and died there. “...Gavay... Sukey....”

Cooper ran back into the house as another large flame shot into the giant opening of the front doors, the magnolias whispered and the willows swayed.

“Barbary, Sabe... I haven't forgotten you.”