‘Freedom, sweet Jesus, freedom.’

‘So now it is only the earthly master, the backra, holding us back. He doesn’t want to give us our freedom. He swears he will not change the laws of this little island even though the great king wills it so.’

‘Shame, Daddy, shame!’

‘Why is that, I ask you?’

‘Why, Daddy, why? Tell us why.’

‘Because …’ Him stop, wait, watch as we lean forward to hear.

‘Backra refuses to accept that if all men are equal in the eyes of the Lord – the Lord, who is the one and only true master – this means that backra and the slave are equal!’

On hearing that, it make me heart beat fast, like a horse when him galloping, and I jump up with the congregation and start to shout and sing.

The slaves that never hear Sam Sharpe preach before, when him say that everybody equal in the eyes of Jesus Christ the Lord, they beat them hands against them chest, openly weep. And when him speak bout slavery and freedom in the one breath, they get driven to a state of distraction by the power of what him preaches. Is a big truth him telling. A truth bout the world outside youself, outside this little island. A truth that open me eyes to a new way of seeing, a seeing that build up a thirst for knowledge and for learning. A thirst that calm me angry silence.

And them words make me shiver and tremble with a great wordless longing. A longing that was once just a wish, a hope, a dream, that Sam Sharpe helped me to grow into a wide swollen river. A river that overflow the banks of my cowardly heart. Giving me the courage to say, ‘Yes! I will stand up, fight for our freedom.’

And I come to understand this is how him plant him seeds of hope, how him water them so they start to unfurl, grow big, grow strong, send out flowers. Grand flowers in all shapes and sizes to match the fervour of Daddy Sharpe soul. After that service, I try to show up, whenever I can.