This Journal Belongs to: 

Demarkus Alek Ball  

By: Redy Habte

 Journal Entry#1
 
Jan 2, 1888:  
My name is Demarkus Alek Ball. I was born in 1865 making me 23 years 
old. I am from Kingston, Jamaica. I am a single child to Devon and Amoy 
Ball. My dad, Devon, died from a heat stroke 
while picking bananas for his master. My mom, 
Amoy, could barely pay for her own mouth, 
much less two mouths so we needed money 
fast. I also worked in a banana field when one 
of my friends told me that we could take a 
steamship to America’s Angel Island. When I 
came home late at night, my mom was still 
awake. I told her the great news. She 
seemed happy when I told her I will come 
back and they will be rich together. My mom’s 
right leg has been amputated because a 
poisonous snake bit her foot so traveling will 
be hard for her. So she decides to stay. I was thinking about it all night. I 
am going to America to fulfill my dreams of becoming rich and getting out 
of this dump. I will be happy to leave the slums of Jamaica but at the 
same time, I am sad to leave my mother. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Journal Entry #2
 
Feb 22, 1888:  
I am ready to leave my home and make my way towards the passenger boat that will 
take me to Ellis Island. I have called my uncle in America using the only phone in the neighborhood 
that I am coming. I brought several pairs of clothing, toiletries, $1351 of jamaican money that one 
of my friends said equaled to only $10 in U.S dollars. I also brought snacks and water and a 
sleeping bag. I also shoved some pictures of my mom, Amoy and my dad, Devon into my 
overfilled bag. I decided to walk to Port Royal which is where the passenger boat taking us Ellis 
Island will be arriving at. I didn’t want to spend extra money on transportation and the walk is 
about one hour which isn’t that much.  
An hour and a half has passed and I am boarding the Hamburg-America Line's GRAF WALDERSEE. I won’t write 
until we are close to Ellis Island.  
Crew members told us we only have 20 minutes till arrival. The ship journey wasn’t that long because we were 
one of the last stops but it was a hard and painful experience. The boat was so crowded and loud that after 
a few hours you will go crazy. I feel bad for the first people 
that boarded the ship. Also the ship’s smell was enough to 
make the sea sickness, something that was never an issue to 
me, the worst sickness that I ever had. We are supposed to 
stay below the deck but that is even worse. It is so dark that 
you never know if you are awake or dreaming. I noticed that 
even the toughest people on this ship hated this place.   
When the crew member announced our arrival I was happy. I 
grabbed my stuff and ran to the door just to be stopped by a 
tall white guy whose biceps were as big as my head. He grabbed my shoulder and yelled at me. He told me to 
get back and that we aren’t leaving yet. He also used some colorful words along with that sentence. 
The reason we couldn’t leave yet is because we had to get checked by a doctor. I headed that 
the plank that led from the boat to sweet land of opportunity. I got checked by a doctor a few 
minutes ago by a doctor who said I was okay and I got to leave the boat. When my feet touched 
the ground I bent over, kissed the ground, and thanked God for bringing me to this foreign land 
safely. I was immediately grabbed by someone and pulled up. Another white man. He told me to 
move. As I traveled deeper into the foreign land, I saw more of these white men grabbing and 
yelling at my people and other people that were not american. The white men scared me, but 
when they looked at me, I hid it with a face of confidence and smiled at them. They turned 
away with a face as if they were sucking a lemon. I have reached the “Land of Opportunity” and 
already hate it.  
 
 Journal Entry #3
 
Feb 23, 1888: 
The white people told us that we were in a process that all immigrants had to go through. It is 
called the immigration processing office. I am in a long line in this big hall. I have never seen any 
building this big. Not only was it big, it was fully inclosed with shiny glass windows and the floor 
was made with marble. The only people that owned these kinds of buildings were the rich 
diplomats in Jamaica. The rest of us “peasants” lived in raggedy huts that have leaves as doors 
and open windows. The mosquitos feast on us when we are asleep. I have many scars to prove 
that. So seeing something this grand 
got me excited. But the screaming, 
talking, shouting, yelling, and grabbing 
drowned any happiness that was in 
me. I just hope it is worth it. I am 
one of the few lucky people that 
can write and read in english. I can 
speak well but I have a heavy 
accent. 
After my turn and passed, I 
was devastated. My last 
name, the only thing that 
reminds me of my dad was taken away. My name is now Demarkus Kingston. They 
changed my last name to my city. It didn’t matter what I said, they still changed it. I 
have wasted 3 hours in line just to be stripped of my dignity. The only thing 
preventing me from turning around and demanding to be sent back home is the face 
of my mom when we speak about money.  
 Journal Entry #4
 
June 6, 1888: 
It has been several months without writing. This is because I had to get used to this 
forign land. I had bought a farm for a surprisingly lower cost than in Jamaica. I tend the farm 
with my uncle and 8 of my friends. We work from dawn 
to dusk. By the time we are finished, we eat tiredly 
and drop to wherever we are supposed to sleep and 
pass out in exhaustion. We live in the same house, split 
the same money and eat the same food. Money income 
wasn’t a lot, so we were living off of scraps. We didn’t 
have to leave the farm because everything we needed 
was there. We have no communication with the outside 
world because of that. Our house was pretty small. Our 
house had a kitchen, a separate living room, and one 
bedroom with a bathroom. So 10 people in one house 
got overcrowded at times. We decided to split it, 1 person on the bed (changes every night), 
4 people on the floor of the bedroom, 1 person in the only couch of the living room (also 
changes every night) and 4 people on the living room floor. We were limited to 2 meals a day. 
The meal consisted of the same thing every day. One egg scrambled and a side of corn and 
a slice of bread for each person. Farming now is pretty hard because although it was not 
spring, there hasn’t been a lot of water which made it hard for us so far. A few days ago, I 
found out that one of my friends has been saving for a camera for a couple of months 
now. He had finally had enough money. He bought a camera. When he came back we all 
surrounded him in excitement. Only a few people owned camera’s in Jamaica. We 
immediately started taking some pictures. Every week, I take all my earnings and send it to 
mom. She will respond quickly and ask me if I’m eating well and if the conditions are good. I 
leave out the part that we are broke and the crops aren’t blooming because of the drought. 
Overall, I don’t think America is worth all the attention. Sure, I got a job farming easily, but pay 
is only a little better than in Jamaica.  
 
 
 
 
 
 Journal Entry #5

June 23, 1888: 

Today was really exciting. I was one of the lucky people. I had gotten in an interview 
with a Muckraker. He said his name is Jacob Riis. The first question that the guy had asked 
me was what my current job was and what were the conditions like. I responded by saying 
that my job was to farm and the conditions are ok but we are dead tired by the end of the 

day. The pay is really little especially because I had to split it with 10 people. Although farming 
was pretty safe, my dad had died of a stroke which can happen to people like me who work 
under the sun for the whole day with little water. I also told him that we work from the first 
sunlight to when the sun disappears in the west. My heavy Jamaican accent made him 
snicker to himself. I glared at him hard and he immediately stopped laughing and then cleared 
his throat. I also stressed the idea of farmers getting more pay. We work nonstop and are 
tired. Our hard work should pay really well but even if one person got 100% pay, it is still 
really small.  
The Muckraker left a few hours ago. I think it was important that I answered the 
questions and gave him my opinion because I believe that one person has the power to 
change the world. I wanted to change the land of opportunity as we see it today. I am hoping 
the Muckrakers get the word out and action is taken to increase pay for hard workers. I 
believe action is possible.