White Jim, Black Huck

If yu think about it, I’m not too much of a writer. Insted, I like to read and inform myself of da diffrent hapenings of the world I liv in. Im da only one in my family who can read and write, so im sorri if I don’t spell too wel, im only lerning. Anyways, I wanted to take advantage of dis article I red last nite, it was one I pick’d up from da garbage can in Cairo. This article talked about my ole frend Mark Twain, who used to pas by my pap´s farm every once in a while. Hi came by and by tellin’ me he needed someone to inspire his story. So, I present him Huck Finn. Luk, here he is with me, I will let him write coz im not to much of writer.

You don’t know about me. I tell you da truth. The man by da name of Mark Twain came to me and told me to write his story. It was me, not a supposed nigger by da name of Jimmy. And I says, dat was my story, and I don’t understand why you call it satire. What is dat? I know not about satire, only I know dat “there warn’t no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don’t. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft” (90). That was everything that Mr. Mark Twain liked from my story. My experience in the raft showed a romantic portrayal of life. Don’t ask me what does dat mean because I know not, I’m only telling you what Mr. Twain told me. But anyways, all you needed to know is dat. And also, I am not black. But my story is only my experience of freedom in a country which lacked it. My good companion Jim, he is a nigger, but he taught me to forget my problems in life and live only with freedom by my side. And even though I’m not black, my story is, as that article my friend told you about said, “a black root in white consciousness.”