Everyone laughed when a farmer paid just seven cents for a woman nearly two meters tall, considered useless by other buyers. It was said that no job suited him, that his strength was misdirected and that it would only cause losses.
But Joaquim Lacerda didn’t look at her like the others. Where buyers saw a problem, he seemed to see something else: brute force, still directionless, but capable of becoming a weapon.
This woman’s name was Benedita. And this sale, which was to be yet another humiliation, would change his destiny.
A slave market in Vassouras, in 1857
The scene takes place in February 1857, in the central square of Vassouras, in the interior of Rio de Janeiro. Vale do Paraíba then lived to the rhythm of coffee, dust, heat and the violence of a system based on slavery.
That morning, men, women and children were displayed on a wooden platform, treated like cattle under the gaze of buyers. The auctioneer, a fat man with a curved mustache and a high-pitched voice, announced each lot with the energy of a merchant sure of his merchandise.
When Benedita’s turn came, silence fell. Not out of admiration, but out of unease.
She was about 1.95m tall, maybe more. His shoulders were broad, his hands immense, his bare feet deeply marked the wood of the platform. His torn raw cotton garment barely covered his angular body, scarred by hunger, forced labor and scarring.
Her black hair was shaved very short. His dark eyes didn’t rest on anyone. They seemed to be staring at an invisible horizon, as if it were already elsewhere.
The auctioneer announced his name, his age and his origin: Benedita, twenty-three years old, from Recôncavo baiano. Strong as an ox, but deemed impossible to control. She had already been sent to four properties. No foreman, it was said, had succeeded in taming it.
Nobody wanted her.
Prices fell. Five reis, three reis, two reis, one reis. Still nothing.
Then a deep voice rose at the back of the square:
“Seven cents. “
Joaquim Lacerda, the man who experiences something else
The voice belonged to Joaquim Lacerda, owner of the quinta de Santo António, an average coffee farm of 320 hectares, with around eighty forced laborers.
Joaquim was a little over fifty years old. His hair was graying, his beard was neat, his clothes simple but clean. He was neither one of the richest nor one of the most powerful. He was a man who survived on a land in debt, calculating every expense, every harvest, every possible loss.
The other buyers laughed. Seven cents for this woman they considered unusable. In their eyes, Joaquim was becoming senile.
The auctioneer, relieved not to have to return the goods, struck the hammer. Benedita was sold.
Joaquim climbed onto the platform, took the chain attached to his ankle and took it away. She followed him without speaking, her expression blank.
They walked three kilometers to the quinta. Joaquim was walking on his old bay horse. Benedita followed on foot, chained, her feet bleeding on the dirt road.
When they arrived, the sun was setting. The sky was tinged with orange and purple. Joaquim dismounted, tied him up, then led Benedita straight to the barn.
An unexpected proposal
The barn was a large wooden building where tools, coffee bags and a few animals were stored. Joaquim closed the door, lit an kerosene lamp, then sat down on a stool.
He observed Benedita for a long time before asking a simple question:
“You know how to read? “
She didn’t answer.
He tried again:
“You know how to fight? “
This time, something flashed in his eyes. Almost nothing, but enough for Joaquim to notice.
He went to get a large hunting blade, held it by the metal part and stretched the handle towards it. Benedita didn’t take it. She looked at him suspiciously.
Joaquim then placed the blade on the ground, between them, and stepped back.
He explained to her that he didn’t want to hurt her or send her to the fields. He had another plan, but he needed her to trust him a little, at least for tonight.w
He then told her his story. Ten years earlier, he had had an only son, Vicente, an intelligent and courageous boy. One day, on their way back from the city, they were attacked by bandits. Vicente tried to defend his father and was stabbed in the chest. He had died in Joaquim’s arms.
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