Enough is enough.  I'm sick to the back teeth of all the wailing and rending of people apologising for the slave trade. No-one is putting on exhibitions and demanding that my story be told to school bairns. Why the hell should I feel anything for something that had nothing to do with me, or any of my ancestors. No-one is writing me a letter apologising for my ancestors being starved off their land over in Ireland. Something that forced them to move over to Scotchland where, wait for it, they ended up as slaves. That's right folks. Slaves. White ones at that. In Scotchland, coal miners and salt workers were slaves until 1799. Although, bearing in mind the illiteracy of the working class, it actually toddled on into the 1830's. As an added bonus, the status of slave was hereditary, with their lucky, lucky weans being baptised into the mining company. So, as soon as they were old enough, it was doon the fuggin pit with them. You lived in a cottage owned by the mine owners and you were paid in tokens that could only be exchanged in the mine owners stores. So there was no chance of getting oot. And as soon as the mine was finished, you had to pack up your family and head off wherever the mine owner telt ye, to start your next period of slavery. And it had been going on for a while as, to protect landowners, the pre- 1707 Union Scottish parliament actually enslaved colliers, saltiers and lead miners, amongst others. So here's the deal. Either give me an apology, a museum and a whacking great lottery grant to bleat on aboot my enslaved ancestors or Shut The Fuck Up. After all, you seem to be saying that it's only black slavery that counts. You racist bastards. As a wee bonus, an extract from the report by R F Franks to the Children's Employment Commission on the East of Scotland District which was published in 1842. Mary Sneddon, aged 15, putter: I have only wrought at Bo'ness Pit three months. Should not have ganged but brother Robert was killed on the 21st January last. A piece of the roof fell upon his head, and he died instantly: he was brought home, coffined and buried in Bo'ness kirk-yard. No one came to inquire about how he was killed; they never do in this place. Mother has had 13 children, five only are alive; she does not work below just now, as no need; four, including father, work below. Reads in the Bible; knows very little of its contents. Thomas Brown, 10 years old, putter: Wrought below four years; has not been long at Hard Hill; came from Bo'ness Mines with father and two brothers; we all work below. I go down at three in the morning, and come up at four and sometimes six at night, and work 9 or 10 days in the fortnight; work very hard, as father is no strong the now, and mother is dead. I hurry the hurlies [draw the carts] in harness; it is the practice here; we used only to push them at Bo'ness; never been much hurt, but often overworked. |