When I went to the library, I would stand at the desk, hat in hand, looking as unbookish as possible. When I received the books desired I would take them home. If the books listed in the note happened to be out, I would sneak into the lobby and forge a new one. I never took any chances guessing with the white librarian about what the fictitious white man would want to read. No doubt if any of the white patrons had suspected that some of the volumes they enjoyed had been in the home of a Negro, they would not have tolerated it for an instant.
The factory force of the optical company in Memphis was much larger than that in Jackson, and more urbanized. At least they liked to talk, and would engage the Negro help in conversation whenever possible. By this means I found that many subjects were taboo from the white man’s point of view. Among the topics they did not like to discuss with Negroes were the following: American white women; the Ku Klux Klan; France, and how Negro soldiers fared while there; French women; Jack Johnson; the entire northern part of the United States; the Civil War; Abraham Lincoln; U. S. Grant; General Sherman; Catholics; the Pope; Jews; the Republican Party; slavery; social equality; Communism; Socialism; the 13th and 14th Amendments to the Constitution; or any topic calling for positive knowledge or manly self-assertion on the part of the Negro. The most accepted topics were sex and religion.
There were many times when I had to exercise a great deal of ingenuity to keep out of trouble. It is a southern custom that all men must take off their hats when they enter an elevator. And especially did this apply to us blacks with rigid force. One day I stepped into an elevator with my arms full of packages. I was forced to ride with my hat on. Two white men stared at me coldly. Then one of them very kindly lifted my hat and placed it upon my armful of packages. Now the most accepted response for a Negro to make under such circumstances is to look at the white man out of the corner of his eye and grin. To have said: “Thank you!” would have made the white man think that you thought you were receiving from him a personal service. For such an act I have seen Negroes take a blow in the mouth. Finding the first alternative distasteful, and the second dangerous, I hit upon an acceptable course of action which fell safely between these two poles. I immediately—no sooner than my hat was lifted—pretended that my packages were about to spill, and appeared deeply distressed with keeping them in my arms. In this fashion I evaded having to acknowledge his service, and, in spite of adverse circumstances, salvaged a slender shred of personal pride.
How do Negroes feel about the way they have to live? How do they discuss it when alone among themselves? I think this question can be answered in a single sentence. A friend of mine who ran an elevator once told me:
“Lawd, man! Ef it wuzn’t fer them polices ’n’ them ol’ lynch-mobs, there wouldn’t be nothin’ but uproar down here!”
I
Big Boy Leaves Home
I
YO MAMA don wear no drawers…
Clearly, the voice rose out of the woods, and died away. Like an echo another voice caught it up:
Ah seena when she pulled em off…
Another, shrill, cracking, adolescent:
N she washed ’em in alcohol…
Then a quartet of voices, blending in harmony, floated high above the tree tops:
N she hung ’em out in the hall…
Laughing easily, four black boys came out of the woods into cleared pasture. They walked lollingly in bare feet, beating tangled vines and bushes with long sticks.
“Ah wished Ah knowed some mo lines t tha song.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah, when yuh gits t where she hangs em out in the hall yuh has t stop.”
“Shucks, whut goes wid hall?”
“Call.”
“Fall.”
“Wall.”
“Quall.”
They threw themselves on the grass, laughing.
“Big Boy?”
“Huh?”
“Yuh know one thing?”
“Whut?”
“Yuh sho is crazy!”
“Crazy?”
“Yeah, yuh crazys a bed-bug!”
“Crazy bout whut?”
“Man, whoever hearda quall?”
“Yuh said yuh wanted something t go wid hall, didnt yuh?”
“Yeah, but whuts a quall?”
“Nigger, a qualls a quall.”
They laughed easily, catching and pulling long green blades of grass with their toes.
“Waal, ef a qualls a quall, whut IS a quall?”
“Oh, Ah know.”
“Whut?”
“Tha ol song goes something like this:
Yo mama don wear no drawers,
Ah seena when she pulled em off,
N she washed em in alcohol,
N she hung em out in the hall,
N then she put em back on her QUALL!”
They laughed again. Their shoulders were flat to the earth, their knees propped up, and their faces square to the sun.
“Big Boy, yuhs CRAZY!”
“Don ax me nothin else.”
“Nigger, yuhs CRAZY!”
They fell silent, smiling, drooping the lids of their eyes softly against the sunlight.
“Man, don the groun feel warm?”
“Jus lika bed.”
“Jeeesus, Ah could stay here ferever.”
“Me too.”
“Ah kin feel tha ol sun goin all thu me.”
“Feels like mah bones is warm.”
In the distance a train whistled mournfully.
“There goes number fo!”
“Hittin on all six!”
“Highballin it down the line!”
“Boun fer up Noth, Lawd, boun fer up Noth!”
They began to chant, pounding bare heels in the grass.
Dis train boun fo Glory
Dis train, Oh Hallelujah
Dis train boun fo Glory
Dis train, Oh Hallelujah
Dis train boun fo Glory
Ef yuh ride no need fer fret er worry
Dis train, Oh Hallelujah
Dis train…
Dis train don carry no gambler
Dis train, Oh Hallelujah
Dis train don carry no gambler
Dis train, Oh Hallelujah
Dis train don carry no gambler
No fo day creeper er midnight rambler
Dis train, Oh Hallelujah
Dis train…
When the song ended they burst out laughing, thinking of a train bound for Glory.
“Gee, thas a good ol song!”
“Huuuuummmmmmmmman…”
“Whut?”
“Geeee whiiiiiiz…”
“Whut?”
“Somebody don let win! Das whut!”
Buck, Bobo and Lester jumped up. Big Boy stayed on the ground, feigning sleep.
“Jeeesus, tha sho stinks!”
“Big Boy!”
Big Boy feigned to snore.
“Big Boy!”
Big Boy stirred as though in sleep.
“Big Boy!”
“Hunh?”
“Yuh rotten inside!”
“Rotten?”
“Lawd, cant yuh smell it?”
“Smell whut?”
“Nigger, yuh mus gotta bad col!”
“Smell whut?”
“NIGGER, YUH BROKE WIN!”
Big Boy laughed and fell back on the grass, closing his eyes.
“The hen whut cackles is the hen whut laid the egg.”
“We ain no hens.”
“Yuh cackled, didnt yuh?”
The three moved off with noses turned up.
“C mon!”
“Where yuh-all goin?”
“T the creek fer a swim.”
“Yeah, les swim.”
“Naw buddy naw!” said Big Boy, slapping the air with a scornful palm.
“Aw, c mon! Don be a heel!”
“N git lynched? Hell naw!”
“He ain gonna see us.”
“How yu
h know?”
“Cause he ain.”
“Yuh-all go on. Ahma stay right here,” said Big Boy.
“Hell, let im stay! C mon, les go,” said Buck.
The three walked off, swishing at grass and bushes with sticks. Big Boy looked lazily at their backs.
“Hey!”
Walking on, they glanced over their shoulders.
“Hey, niggers!”
“C mon!”
Big Boy grunted, picked up his stick, pulled to his feet, and stumbled off.
“Wait!”
“C mon!”
He ran, caught up with them, leaped upon their backs, bearing them to the ground.
“Quit, Big Boy!”
“Gawddam, nigger!”
“Git t hell offa me!”
Big Boy sprawled in the grass beside them, laughing and pounding his heels in the ground.
“Nigger, whut yuh think we is, hosses?”
“How come yuh awways hoppin on us?”
“Lissen, wes gonna double-team on yuh one of these days n beat yo ol ass good.”
Big Boy smiled.
“Sho nough?”
“Yeah, don yuh like it?”
“We gonna beat yuh sos yuh cant walk!”
“N dare yuh t do nothin erbout it!”
Big Boy bared his teeth.
“C mon! Try it now!”
The three circled around him.
“Say, Buck, yuh grab his feets!”
“N yuh git his head, Lester!”
“N Bobo, yuh git berhin n grab his arms!”
Keeping more than arm’s length, they circled round and round Big Boy.
“C mon!” said Big Boy, feinting at one and then the other.
Round and round they circled, but could not seem to get any closer. Big Boy stopped and braced his hands on his hips.
“Is all three of yuh-all scareda me?”
“Les git im some other time,” said Bobo, grinning.
“Yeah, we kin ketch yuh when yuh ain thinkin,” said Lester.
“We kin trick yuh,” said Buck.
They laughed and walked together.
Big Boy belched.
“Ahm hongry,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Ah wished Ah hada big hot pota belly-busters!”
“Cooked wid some good ol salty ribs…”
“N some good ol egg cornbread…”
“N some buttermilk…”
“N some hot peach cobbler swimmin in juice…”
“Nigger, hush!”
They began to chant, emphasizing the rhythm by cutting at grass with sticks.
Bye n bye
Ah wanna piece of pie
Pies too sweet
Ah wanna piece of meat
Meats too red
Ah wanna piece of bread
Breads too brown
Ah wanna go t town
Towns too far
Ah wanna ketch a car
Cars too fas
Ah fall n break mah ass
Ahll understan it better bye n bye…
They climbed over a barbed-wire fence and entered a stretch of thick woods. Big Boy was whistling softly, his eyes half-closed.
“LES GIT IM!”
Buck, Lester, and Bobo whirled, grabbed Big Boy about the neck, arms, and legs, bearing him to the ground. He grunted and kicked wildly as he went back into weeds.
“Hol im tight!”
“Git his arms! Git his arms!”
“Set on his legs so he cant kick!”
Big Boy puffed heavily, trying to get loose.
“WE GOT YUH NOW, GAWDDAMMIT, WE GOT YUH NOW!”
“Thas a Gawddam lie!” said Big Boy. He kicked, twisted, and clutched for a hold on one and then the other.
“Say, yuh-all hep me hol his arms!” said Bobo.
“Aw, we got this bastard now!” said Lester.
“Thas a Gawddam lie!” said Big Boy again.
“Say, yuh-all hep me hol his arms!” called Bobo.
Big Boy managed to encircle the neck of Bobo with his left arm. He tightened his elbow scissors-like and hissed through his teeth:
“Yuh got me, ain yuh?”
“Hol im!”
“Les beat this bastard’s ass!”
“Say, hep me hol his arms! Hes got aholda mah neck!” cried Bobo.
Big Boy squeezed Bobo’s neck and twisted his head to the ground.
“Yuh got me, ain yuh?”
“Quit, Big Boy, yuh chokin me; yuh hurtin mah neck!” cried Bobo.
“Turn me loose!” said Big Boy.
“Ah ain got yuh! Its the others whut got yuh!” pleaded Bobo.
“Tell them others t git t hell offa me or Ahma break yo neck,” said Big Boy.
“Ssssay, yyyuh-all gggit ooooffa Bbig Boy. Hhhes got me,” gurgled Bobo.
“Cant yuh hol im?”
“Nnaw, hhes ggot mmah nneck…”
Big Boy squeezed tighter.
“N Ahma break it too less yuh tell em t git t hell offa me!”
“Ttturn mmmeee llloose,” panted Bobo, tears gushing.
“Cant yuh hol im, Bobo?” asked Buck.
“Nnaw, yuh-all tturn im lloose; hhhes got mah nnneck…”
“Grab his neck, Bobo…”
“Ah cant; yugurgur…”
To save Bobo, Lester and Buck got up and ran to a safe distance. Big Boy released Bobo, who staggered to his feet, slobbering and trying to stretch a crick out of his neck.
“Shucks, nigger, yuh almos broke mah neck,” whimpered Bobo.
“Ahm gonna break yo ass nex time,” said Big Boy.
“Ef Bobo coulda hel yuh we woulda had yuh,” yelled Lester.
“Ah wuznt gonna let im do that,” said Big Boy.
They walked together again, swishing sticks.
“Yuh see,” began Big Boy, “when a ganga guys jump on yuh, all yuh gotta do is jus put the heat on one of them n make im tell the others t let up, see?”
“Gee, thas a good idee!”
“Yeah, thas a good idee!”
“But yuh almos broke mah neck, man,” said Bobo.
“Ahma smart nigger,” said Big Boy, thrusting out his chest.
II
They came to the swimming hole.
“Ah ain goin in,” said Bobo.
“Done got scared?” asked Big Boy.
“Naw, Ah ain scared…”
“How come yuh ain goin in?”
“Yuh know ol man Harvey don erllow no niggers t swim in this hole.”
“N jus las year he took a shot at Bob fer swimmin in here,” said Lester.
“Shucks, ol man Harvey ain studyin bout us niggers,” said Big Boy.
“Hes at home thinkin about his jelly-roll,” said Buck.
They laughed.
“Buck, yo mins lowern a snakes belly,” said Lester.
“Ol man Harveys too doggone ol t think erbout jelly-roll,” said Big Boy.
“Hes dried up; all the saps done lef im,” said Bobo.
“C mon, les go!” said Big Boy.
Bobo pointed.
“See tha sign over yonder?”
“Yeah.”
“Whut it say?”
“NO TRESPASSIN,” read Lester.
“Know whut tha mean?”
“Mean ain no dogs n niggers erllowed,” said Buck.
“Waal, wes here now,” said Big Boy. “Ef he ketched us even like this thered be trouble, so we just as waal go on in…”
“Ahm wid the nex one!”
“Ahll go ef anybody else goes!”
Big Boy looked carefully in all directions. Seeing nobody, he began jerking off his overalls.
“LAS ONE INS A OL DEAD DOG!”
“THAS YO MA!”
“THAS YO PA!”
“THAS BOTH YO MA N YO PA!”
They jerked off their clothes and threw them in a pile under a tree. Thirty seconds later they stood, black and naked, on the edge of the hole under a sloping embankment. Gingerly Big Boy touche
d the water with his foot.
“Man, this waters col,” he said.
“Ahm gonna put mah cloes back on,” said Bobo, withdrawing his foot.
Big Boy grabbed him about the waist.
“Like hell yuh is!”
“Git outta the way, nigger!” Bobo yelled.
“Throw im in!” said Lester.
“Duck im!”
Bobo crouched, spread his legs, and braced himself against Big Boy’s body. Locked in each other’s arms, they tussled on the edge of the hole, neither able to throw the other.
“C mon, les me n yuh push em in.”
“O.K.”
Laughing, Lester and Buck gave the two locked bodies a running push. Big Boy and Bobo splashed, sending up silver spray in the sunlight. When Big Boy’s head came up he yelled:
“Yuh bastard!”
“Tha wuz yo ma yuh pushed!” said Bobo, shaking his head to clear the water from his eyes.
They did a surface dive, came up and struck out across the creek. The muddy water foamed. They swam back, waded into shallow water, breathing heavily and blinking eyes.
“C mon in!”
“Man, the waters fine!”
Lester and Buck hesitated.
“Les wet em,” Big Boy whispered to Bobo.
Before Lester and Buck could back away, they were dripping wet from handsful of scooped water.
“Hey, quit!”
“Gawddam, nigger! Tha waters col!”
“C mon in!” called Big Boy.
“We jus as waal go on in now,” said Buck.
“Look n see ef anybodys comin.”
Kneeling, they squinted among the trees.
“Ain nobody.”
“C mon, les go.”
They waded in slowly, pausing each few steps to catch their breath. A desperate water battle began. Closing eyes and backing away, they shunted water into one another’s faces with the flat palms of hands.
“Hey, cut it out!”
“Yeah, Ahm bout drownin!”
They came together in water up to their navels, blowing and blinking. Big Boy ducked, upsetting Bobo.
“Look out, nigger!”
“Don holler so loud!”
“Yeah, they kin hear yo ol big mouth a mile erway.”
“This waters too col fer me.”
“Thas cause it rained yistiddy.”
They swam across and back again.
“Ah wish we hada bigger place t swim in.”
“The white folks got plenty swimmin pools n we ain got none.”
“Ah useta swim in the ol Missippi when we lived in Vicksburg.”
Uncle Tom's Children Page 4
