July 7th, 1907.
Well, my name is Kanjo and I've decided to write in this journal every day to record my experiences working on the Panama Canal. I really don't want to be here and I'm forced to work under dangerous conditions. It's hot and I see so many people dying around me each and every day, including my best friend, from diseases, train derailments, noxious gases, land and mud slides, and explosions, which just reminds me that I could die any second, too. I have come to realize that I have a higher chance of dying than a lot of men. I'm black and I am what we call a "powder man." I carry 50lb. boxes of dynamite on my head. From the time I pick that box up to the time I set it down, ever so gently, the thought of blowing up into a million pieces runs through my mind. Well anyways, It's getting late and I have to get up in a few hours to get back to work. Hopefully I can get past the nightmares and get some shut eye tonight.
