by Daniel Black
Jeremiah took a deep breath and motioned for Enoch and Ray Ray to sit down. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I got up and walked down to The Sacred Place. It was probably ’bout midnight. I sat on dat big rock underneath the huge oak tree and I stared at the stars for ’bout thirty minutes. I started wondering if other people lived on those stars and what life must be like for them. Then I laughed ’cause I knew I’d never know. But all o’ sudden I realized I didn’t even know what was on this planet ’cause I was too scared to find out. I ain’t neva been more than forty or fifty miles away ’cause I didn’t think I had what it takes to live nowhere but here. God done made a whole planet called earth, I told myself, and you too scared to see it.
“So I started thinkin’ ’bout fear and how it robs people, especially colored people, and I realized that we done gave up our God-given inheritance.”
People stared at Jeremiah like witnesses must have stared at Jesus when Lazarus exited the tomb. Some wept.
“Since white folks brought us here, we been scared to live. They told us dat we wuz heathens who practiced witchcraft back in Africa and swung from trees like monkeys. Then they convinced us dat we needed this thang called Christianity in order fu God to like us. It don’t take but ten minutes to see how crazy dat is, but dat’s how scared we wuz o’ dem folks, and dat’s how bad we wanted what they had. So we adopted they beliefs and started callin’ ourselves Christians, too. We never did believe everything they believed. We knowed dat deep down in our hearts God didn’t like some people better than other ones. A child know dat’s stupid! But out o’ fear, we followed along, and white folks taught us dat God even look white like them. If we didn’t believe it, we sho didn’t say nothin’! And since they done convinced us dat they wuz made in de image o’ God, we tremblin’ anytime they come ’round.
“But when I looked up at de stars and saw how beautiful de night wuz, I finally realized that, in a lifetime, you git jes as much night as you git day. That told me that God is jes as black as he is white, and ain’t nobody got no choice but to tolerate both of them. The moon wuz shinin’ so bright I could see my hand in front o’ my face clear as day, and the chirpin’ of bullfrogs and crickets created a harmony I ain’t never paid much ‘tention to before. I said, ‘The night is me and my people. ’ And I smiled when I pictured all o’ y’all in my head, every shade of brown and black possible, and all together we wuz de still, dark night. If somebody didn’t like it, it didn’t matter ’cause de night is too big to fight. You jes gotta endure it ’til it goes away in its own sweet time.
“But what I liked most about de night is the guarantee that it’ll be back tomorrow. You can hate it, you can dread it, but sho as de sun rise in de mornin’, de night comin’, too.
“See, we done worked fu white folks all our lives, so we ain’t neva really noticed de beauty o’ de night. We thank de nighttime is fu sleepin’ in order to work ourselves to death durin’ de day. But last night I sat in de middle of dat blackness and felt de presence o’ God all ’round me.” Jeremiah waved his hands in every direction. “I ain’t lyin, y’all! I felt like I coulda stripped off all my clothes and jes been right at home!”
People laughed and encouraged Jeremiah to go on.
“So I started talkin’ out loud. I wunnit talkin’ to nobody in particular though. I wuz jes speakin’ my heart. I started sayin’, ‘We missin’ somethin’. I don’t know what it is, but we missin’ somethin’. I done buried a son, a daughter-in-law, and now I’m ’bout to bury a grandson. This don’t make no sense. I know I ain’t crazy. We missin’ somethin’. ’ All o’ sudden, a breeze blew real soft across my arm, and that’s when the answer hit me.”
“What answer?” Pet Moore asked anxiously.
“The answer to what we colored folks been missin’.”
“And what is that?” people inquired.
“The fact that if we stand together, jes like de night, ain’t nothin’ white folks can do about it. They can complain and argue all they want, but they cain’t move us. They’d have to get use to us jes like we use to them. See, when that breeze blew across my arm, I realized that that breeze woulda blowed whether I was standing there or not. It didn’t need me to feel it! It wuz gon blow ’cause dat’s what wind do! Since I felt it, dat wuz fine, but it didn’t make no difference. Dat wind had a mission and a purpose, and it was bound to complete dat purpose whether I felt it or not. We think dat we cain’t do nothin’ ’less white folks okay it. Dat’s how they control us! They make us think de wind cain’t blow ’less they allow it and that the night cain’t come ’til they say so. But I’m here to tell you dat de night comin’ on its own terms, and de wind gon blow jes soon as it git ready. It don’t need no permission. You can waste yo’ time tryin’ to stop either one o’ ’em, but you’d be a fool ’cause God done gave them they task to do and dat’s exactly what they gon do.
“Now it’s time dat we colored people understand dat what God gave de wind and de waves, He gave us, too. Cain’t nobody do nothin’ to us if we clear ’bout who we is and why we here. All we gotta do is stand together! Let white folks huff and puff and cuss ’cause it don’t make no difference. They cain’t kill all o’ us if we stand together ’cause it’s more o’ us than them.”
“You sho, Jeremiah? How you know?” Miss Gladys asked.
Jeremiah smiled knowingly, and said, “’Cause we ain’t de only ones I’m countin’.”
People frowned, confused.
“See, while I was in The Sacred Place last night, I saw shadows everywhere. They wuz on de grass, de trees, de rocks … everywhere. Like to scared me to death! Then”—Jeremiah got choked up—“I saw my boy again.”
Murmuring echoed throughout the barn.
“I wuz sittin’ on de big rock, and a little way in de distance I saw Jerry. He started walkin’ toward me, and I got up to run away, but he said, ‘Daddy, it’s me. Don’t be afraid.’
“I reached my hand out to him, but he said, ‘I cannot touch you until you become like me.’ I didn’t know exactly what he meant, but I knowed dat wuz fine wit me.”
People laughed.
“He sat next to me on de big rock, jes like Pet sittin’ here right now, and he confirmed what colored folks been missin’.”
“What he say, Mi?” Pet begged.
“He said, ‘Colored folks done lost they ways.’ That’s what he said,” Jeremiah emphasized. “He said we ain’t neva gon’ have no peace o’ mind in Mississippi ’til we stand together and let white folks know they cain’t kill us whenever they git ready to. That’s what he said.”
People nodded approvingly. Jeremiah smiled to see that, finally, they understood what he was trying to say.
“If we stand together, ain’t no way we can lose!” He was feeling good now. “All we gotta do is look bold and walk over there and say our piece. If they git rowdy, we protect ourselves, but if they don’t, we thank God.” He paused and surveyed the audience. “This is for our children, y’all. So they can be proud of us and love bein’ colored. They’ll remember the days when their folks used to shuffle ’round Money wit their heads bowed down ’cause we wuz scared to look white folks in de face, and they’ll laugh at how ridiculous that musta been. Then we’ll smile, either here or up in heaven, ’cause we gave our kids the greatest gift a people can ever give them.”
“And what’s that, Mi?” Pet smiled.
“Pride in theyselves!” Jeremiah shouted, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. “They’ll walk ’round Money”—Jeremiah began to strut like a proud rooster—“like they worth somethin’!”
“Yeah!” the crowd cheered.
“They’ll say good mornin’ to colored folks and whites with they head held up real high ’cause they glad to be alive in de land of de livin’!”
“Amen!”
“They’ll buy they own land and plant they own crops and go to bed at night with the front door wide open if they want to ’cause ain’t nobody crazy enough to bother colored people who�
�ll fight!”
“Dat’s right!”
“And colored children can start goin’ to school year-’round, jes like anybody else so they can be whatever they wanna be!”
“Un-huh!”
“And these boys and girls will marry each other knowin’ dat ain’t nothin’ like a strong colored man and a strong colored woman comin’ together!”
“Dat’s how de Lawd wanted it!”
“But ain’t nona this gon happen if we don’t stand together for the first time. Our job is to plant the seed, y’all. God gon bring de increase. Then all our children will eat the harvest.”
“Tell it, Mi!” Pet reinforced.
“Listen, y’all.” Jeremiah approached the audience like a healing evangelist. “Jes like they been killin’ us, they gon keep on if we don’t act like colored life mean somethin’ to somebody. Ain’t nobody gon protect us but us! Don’t let it have to be yo’ own grandson befo’ you see how serious this is. Next time it will be yo’ own!” Jeremiah paused. “That’s why I called this gatherin’, ’cause we don’t want no next time. Amen?”
“Amen.”
“We gotta stop white folks from treatin’ us like dis, and de only way to do that is to stand like Joshua’s army. Ain’t that right?”
“You right about it.”
“So all I’m askin’ is that tomorrow mornin’ we go together over to town and let folks know that the days of killin’ Black folks is ova!”
“What if they laugh at us?” someone asked softly.
“They can laugh if they want to!” Jeremiah snickered. “But we’ll make it clear to them that they’ll pay dearly for not taking us seriously. All we gotta do is stand our ground, and they’ll git the point. White folks ain’t crazy.”
“They sho ain’t!” the crowd agreed.
“But we cain’t go timid, y’all,” Jeremiah warned. “We gotta look ’em dead in de eye and talk like God done gave us de authority to speak. They’ll know we ain’t playin’.”
“Who gon do de talkin’?” an elderly man asked.
People murmured possibilities while making it clear that they were unwilling. Jeremiah hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he knew he couldn’t bring the people this far without leading them on.
“I’ll speak!” he said boldly. “I ain’t de best speaker ’round hyeah, but I’ll do it if I have to.”
“All right!” people affirmed.
“So once again I ask, who’s comin’ wit me?” Jeremiah peered deeply into the eyes of his neighbors and childhood friends.
“I’ll go, Mi,” one man said.
“Count me in,” a high, soprano voice announced.
“I’ll be here!”
“Wouldn’t miss it!”
“Me!”
“I’m wit cha, Mi!”
“It’s ’bout time!”
“No better time than de present!”
“Might as well!”
Jeremiah nodded his pleasure after each response and felt in his heart that something magical was happening to colored folks in Money. He looked at Miss Mary, whose wink solidified his resolve that, come what may, he was going to stand tomorrow like he had never stood before.
Possum had remained conspicuously silent. Her heart was too heavy to grieve and much too heavy to speak. She had no idea why her father had called the gathering, and now she had no idea what would happen to him the next morning. All she knew for sure was that her baby was dead, and somebody needed to pay.
“Git you a good night’s sleep, Mi,” Pet said as he rose to leave. “You gon need it.”
“Oh, don’t worry ’bout me none. I’ll be all right. Tomorrow de beginnin’ o’ somethin’ I done waited a lifetime to see, so I probably ain’t gon sleep too much. Don’t wanna die tonight!” Jeremiah and Pet leaned on one another and laughed.
“You ain’t gotta worry ’bout dat!” Pet said. “God got somethin’ fu you to do tomorrow, so you’ll be there. I’ll see ya in de mornin’, bright and early,” he said, and hobbled away.
Others gave their farewells, too, and walked home. The Johnson family retired to their living room and sat in silence like saints waiting on the Second Coming.
From the rocker, Possum whispered, “I’m goin with you in de mornin’, Daddy. Somebody gotta ’splain to me why they did this to my boy.” Her soft tone didn’t hide her rage.
“I wanna go, too,” Sarah Jane proclaimed out of nowhere. She was sitting on the floor next to the rocker, prepared for her grandmother’s objection.
“Then come on,” Jeremiah said sweetly from the old sofa. “You’s a young lady now. You oughta be dere.”
Miss Mary stared at Jeremiah with uncertainty but remained silent.
“Ththththen I’m goin’, too,” Chop added proudly. “’Cccccause I’m a bbbboy, and if girls can g-g-g-go, b-b-b-b-boys can, too.”
“So my whole family’s going, huh?” Ella Mae remarked. “Nobody cares that I might be sittin’ here tomorrow evening wit no family at all. I guess dat ain’t crossed nobody’s mind, huh?” She smiled angrily. “Well, it crossed mine!” she screamed. “I’m spose to jes sit here and let my husband, both my sons, my niece, and the only father I ever had go out and tell white folks that we ain’t gon let them bother us no more? And I spose to have peace about this?” She glanced from one person to the other. “Me and Momma spose to sit here as y’all—”
“I’m goin’, too,” Miss Mary said.
“What?” Ella Mae shouted.
“Girl, I ain’t sittin’ in dis ole house while everybody else out standin’ fu somethin’. If we fall, all us fallin’ together.” She looked at Ella Mae kindly. “Dat’s de way I see it.”
“But Momma! We oughta let de menfolks handle that! It could git dangerous.” Ella Mae was fighting a losing battle.
“It’s been dangerous a long time, honey! And dat’s where you young women go wrong. Y’all let de men handle de hard stuff while y’all hide behind their shirttail. Girl, my momma told me dat a colored woman oughta stand wherever standin’ need to happen, whether a man there or not! You fight to protect him jes like he fight to protect you. If you let him do all de fightin’, he gon do all de rulin’, too.”
Ella Mae shook her head despondently. “Fine. I give up.” She rose to go to bed, then turned abruptly, and said, “Shit. Wake me up when it’s time to go.”
Everyone smiled.
Eighteen
BEFORE SUNRISE, THE JOHNSON FAMILY WAS UP AND PREPARED to go. The aroma of Miss Mary’s homemade biscuits seeped through the front door and out the windowpanes, causing birds and squirrels to long for a place at the poor sharecroppers’ table.
“Who dat in dere cookin’ lik dat?” Pet Moore said when he stepped onto the front porch.
“Come on in!” Jeremiah hollered. “We got aplenty!”
Pet came through the front door dressed in his Sunday best.
“You sharp as a tack, man! I didn’t know folks was gon dress up.”
“Well, I wunnit sho what to put on”—Pet chuckled—“so I thought I better throw on dis ole suit o’ mine.”
“Hush up, man!” Miss Mary teased, placing biscuits and bacon on the table. “You know good and well dat suit ain’t old! I ain’t seen you wear it but one time.”
“Mary Johnson, is you crazy? Dis suit older’n you is!”
The children giggled softly, especially Sarah Jane, who cherished elder interaction.
“Well, come on y’all, let’s eat,” Jeremiah insisted. “If we ain’t neva needed strength, we needs it today. We gotta go change de world!”
Anxiety shrouded the family as they gathered at the table. Pet sat in Miss Mary’s chair. “I cain’t eat nothin’, man,” she told him. “Too much on my mind.” She shook her head and made more biscuits.
“Well, I sho can!” Pet hollered. “Anybody turn down one o’ Miss Mary’s biscuits is either a fool or dead!”
Usually such a comment would have evoked widespread laughter, but remembering Clement, lying on the
cooling board in the back room, subdued an otherwise exuberant family.
“Pet, you bless de food, man, since you de guest,” Jeremiah instructed.
“I ain’t no guest, man! But I’d be glad to turn de blessin’.”
Everyone bowed.
“Well, Lawd,” Pet began, “dis a great day! Don’t none o’ us know what ’bout to happen, but what we know fu sho is dat You hold de world in de palm o’ Yo’ hand. Bless us as we march dis mornin’, Lawd, and keep Yo’ angels camped all ’round us. And bless dis food we ’bout to eat, bless de preparer thereof, and make this physical nourishment enough to keep us standin’ in de time o’ trouble. Amen.”
“Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy,” Miss Mary murmured.
“Jesus wwwwwwwwept,” Chop said.
Ella Mae: “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.”
Jeremiah: “Trust in de Lawd wit all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understandin’.”
Ray Ray: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”
Enoch: “If God be for us, who can be against us?”
And Sarah Jane closed the scriptural litany with, “In all thy getting, get understanding.”
With Jeremiah at one end of the table and Pet at the other, the family resembled Christ and his disciples at the last supper. Biscuits, bacon strips, and eggs vanished as quickly as Miss Mary placed them on the table. The angst in everyone’s heart kept them silently shoveling food into their mouths, unsure of when or if another meal would come.
When the last lonely biscuit was embraced and devoured, Jeremiah belched long and deep, and said, “Time to go!” He rose and grabbed his old straw hat from the nail on the wall and tucked his shirt neatly into his good pair of overalls.
“You takin’ yo’ pocketbook, Momma?” Ella Mae asked.
“Naw, chile, I ain’t carryin’ no purse today. We goin’ to handle business, but dis ain’t got nothin’ to do wit money.”
Ella Mae stuffed a few bills into her right bra cup and left her pocketbook on the kitchen table. She pinned her long, black hair up into a bun and hid it under her white Sunday hat.
