PRESENTLY TENSE

Writers have time machines, of course, so let's jump in my blue plastic model and go somewhere! Yes, I know it looks like a Port-A-Potty; that's to deflect attention. Trust me and climb aboard. I'm gonna set the dial on the console here to the year, um-let's say, 1856. Hold on! Blast off >>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Whoa, that was awesome. Sorry about the bumpy landing. Let's step outside and see what's up. Wow, look at this. We're in some kind of field. Damn, it's bright out, and can you believe the humidity? What kind of plants are those with the weird little white fluffy bits all over 'em? Cotton? Like what they make T-shirts out of? Are you sure? So they grew cotton in Southern California in 1856. Who knew. Not in San Diego anymore? Are you sure? Yes, it's always a possibility with time machines that you'll end up a little off in space, too, but where are we? The South? Somewhere like Mississippi? How do you figure? Oh, yeah. I see 'em now, over at the other end of the field. Let's move in a little closer. You're right, they're people, stooped over in the heat, picking the white fluffy bits off those cotton plants and stuffing them into bags. There are even kids out there. And they're all African-Americans. Do you think they're slaves? What do you mean, “No, duh”? I wasn't paying attention in history class, man-I was working out how to build a time machine.

So, since we traveled only 150 years into the past, that must mean there are lots of folks in 2007 whose grandparents were born into slavery, right? That could have lasting cultural implications, couldn't it? Don't give me that look. I don't know about this stuff; this is the first time the machine has actually worked.

What guy on a horse? Oh, no. The white dude with the rifle-yeah, I see him. Do you think they hate Jews yet? I'd rather not stick around and find out; let's make a break for it. Give me a hand dragging the time machine behind those trees.

The guy with the rifle spotted us! Get in the time machine! We don't have time to set the console for a different time, so just hit the flusher and we'll hopefully travel through space. Hold on >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Ouch. Bumped my head. Open the door and see if the guy on the horse is gone.

Where are we? Hey, it's a city. And look-a chocolate house. Let's drag the time machine into the alley and check it out. Damn, it's dark and smoky in here. Notice how everybody's staring at us? We should've dressed more era-appropriate. Looks like they're all drinking hot chocolate. Let's act natural and step up to the counter. “Two hot chocolates please." “Two chocolates coming right up, sir." Wow, people in New Jersey used to be nice. I hope they don't get too irate when we dine and ditch. “Here you are, sir." Mmm, not bad. Kind of bitter. I'll distract the chocolate bartender guy. Check this out.

“Hey man, where are we and what year is it?" “New Jersey, 1856, my friend." “And, uh, what's your shirt made of?" “I believe it is made from the plant called hemp." “So you don't wear stuff made of cotton because cotton is picked by slaves in the southern states, right?" “To tell you the truth, I never gave it much thought." “Dude, you should start a cotton boycott. Viva the abolition! Is there a tag on that shirt?" “Pardon me, sir?"

OK, Run! I don't think he's chasing us. Hopefully he smokes the plant, too. Jump in the time machine. Oh damn, the console is broken. I can't make the year controller work! This thing is worse than a Wonkavator. Just hit the flusher and hold on >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Where are we now? It looks like a field again. This machine must have an agriculture fixation. And we're surrounded by black workers picking stuff from plants again. But notice how they're all kids? I'm gonna talk to one of them.

“Hey kid, do you speak English?" “Yes, sir." “Are you a slave, or what?" “Yes, sir. I was kidnapped from my home country of Mali. I work 14 hours a day; they beat me and won't let me go." “What are you picking?" “Cocoa, sir."

Aha, I've figured out where we are. We're in West Africa's Ivory Coast, the world's largest cocoa producer. I think it's 2001, the year the U.S. State Department reported that child slavery was rampant on cocoa farms here. Or maybe 2002, the year a report from the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture estimated there were 284,000 children working on cocoa farms in hazardous conditions, many of them slaves. This was the year I started buying fair-trade chocolate, since commercial chocolate like Hershey's and M&M/Mars products were made with slave-produced cocoa.

“Did you say 2002, sir?" “Yes, isn't that right?" “But this is 2007, sir." “What about the Harken-Engel Protocol, where the U.S. chocolate industry agreed to voluntarily take steps to end child slavery on cocoa farms by July of 2005?" “They didn't fully comply and the International Labor Rights Fund sued them in federal court." “So what happened?" “I don't know, sir, but I'm still a slave picking cocoa for American candy. And here come the men who beat me, so I have to get back to work." And you and I better get back in the time machine. Too bad there isn't enough room for the kid in here. Maybe we should set the time machine for the future and see when American reliance on slave labor is finally abolished. Or maybe we should stay in 2007 and see if there's an abolitionist movement to join. That's it! Viva the abolition, my friend, and hold on tight, we're heading home! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Write to dak@SDcitybeat.com and editor@SDcitybeat.com.