If someone asked me to explain the Chicago fire with one word, it would be horrific. It was October 8, 1871, a regular night in our city. That year was an extremely hot summer — three months of living hell, and unfortunately for us, the heat carried on into October. I will never forget that fateful night.
We had just finished dinner; Ma's cooking was always delicious and we went to bed that night with full stomachs. Well, some of us got sleep. I don't know if it was the three helpings I had at dinner or the Good Lord, but I couldn’t go to bed that night. I lay in bed thinking about what a blessing it was to have our own home. It was just a few years after our family had been freed from slavery. We were one of the lucky families who had freedom. There were so many who were not as fortunate as we were.
It was about 11:20 and I had an unsettling feeling. I got up and looked out the window. The sky was still dark, but I could see a light in the distance. It was bright, and nothing like I had ever seen before. I looked over at my brother snoring away, contemplating if I should wake him up to show him. If I did, he would get angry at me for waking him up in the middle of the night, but I had a feeling that I should. So I moved from the window quietly, crept over to his bedside, and slightly nudged him awake.
He jolted out of sleep, looking groggy. “What are you doing girl, it's late,” he said, covering his head with his pillow.
“There is a weird bright light outside,” I said, pulling the pillow off his head.
“It’s probably the Moon, go back to bed,” he said, now even more annoyed.
“It’s not the Moon. I know what the Moon looks like, just come and see.” I said, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him out of bed.
“Ok, ok, I’m coming,” he said begrudgingly.
Once we got to the window, the light was brighter, but I still couldn’t make out what it was.
“Wow, that is bright,’’ he said, shielding his eyes.
“I told you it's not the Moon,” I said confidently.
“Yeah you're right,’’ he said, confused.
“Should we tell Ma and Pa?” I asked.
“We should. I'll go wake them up, you stay here and watch whatever that thing is,” he said, walking towards the door and almost bumping into it.
I giggled and looked back out the window. “I wonder what that thing is,” I said aloud.
When Ma and Pa arrived they were as confused as ever. As we all stared at the light, an ear-piercing scream let out and several more followed. We looked at each other, and Pa went downstairs to see what the ruckus was about. We watched him stop to talk to some people who were running away from something. They stopped momentarily to answer his questions and continued running. Pa came running back up.
“Grab what you can, we have to leave.”
We all stared at him in shock as Ma asked what was the matter. Pa took her aside to talk. “Is everything all right?” Ma asked in a hushed voice. While they talked, I heard more screams in the background.
I grabbed my stuffed animal and a few clothes and stuffed them into a bag. “I’m scared,’’ I said to my brother who looked as frightened as me.
“It’s going to be okay,’’ he said, trying to be reassuring. We packed up a few things and grabbed what we could. After I was done, I went back to the window to see if I could make out what the light was, and this time I could. It was a fire, consuming a building a few blocks from where we were. I gulped, nearly choking. My insides felt nervous and scattered, I didn't know what to do. I turned to my brother, whose eyes reflected the burning flames from outside. He looked at me for a second, then turned away, looking like he was about to cry.
Pa came into the room, “We need to go now,’’ he said in a voice trying to cover up the emotions he felt. Ma gave me her hand and we rushed outside. By now, the firefighters had come but there was little they could do.
Everyone was rushing to the Chicago River for refuge. We ran but it seemed like there wasn’t anywhere to go. In front of us were people running away from their burning homes. Behind us were the screams of trapped people in buildings and the cries of people seeing the homes burn. I squeezed Ma’s hand and tried not to cry. Ma looked at me. “Baby, it’s going to be okay.” But for the first time in my life, her words seemed unsure. There were so many thoughts going through my head. “Where will we live now? What about all the things in our home? What about all the people who lost their homes too?” We ran and we ran, finally making it to the river. Behind us were the cries of people who needed help, but no one could do anything. I finally cried, letting everything out. So many cried with me.
It’s been years since the Great Chicago Fire happened and I am one of the survivors. After the fire, many of us had to build up our lives again and it wasn’t easy. But now we have well-trained firefighters and other medical workers who can help us in situations like the fire. In a way, the fire helped us see the need for better help and resources in fires, whether big or small.
Comentários