No Pain Like This Body

by Harold Sonny Ladoo

  “Move fast!” Ma shouted.

  Sunaree shifted.

  The scorpions were running down the sides of the ricebox. Nanny crushed one with the drum. Ma burnt another with the flambeau; it smelt bad. Some more fell on the ricebox. The scorpions were running down the sides of the box too fast. They couldn’t kill all of them. Ma took the flambeau and started to smoke them off the ricebox. She didn’t want them to go inside the box, because Rama was still inside the box. And the scorpions were running crazily all over the place; just running with their tails in the air. Some of them went under­neath the box. Others just crawled on the earth in the muddy water. Some went into the cracks of the earthen wall. A large black scorpion was climbing on Sunaree’s right foot. She jumped up, and it fell in the water again. She took the flute and pounded it to death; pounded it just as the rain was pounding the house, and the wind was pounding the light.

  Balraj was still bawling and rolling in the water. Rama too was screaming from inside the ricebox; screaming and saying how the scorpions were stinging him.

  Nanna reached same time.

  IV

  NANNA RAN splunk splunk into the house. Balraj was rolling in the water. He was bawling. Nanna had no time with Balraj; he just jumped over him and ran by the ricebox.

  Nanna didn’t say a word. He ran by the box. The light that Balraj had placed inside the ricebox was out, so Rama was in darkness. Water still fell from the roof on the ricebox. Nanna stretched his skinny hands and lifted the ricebox cover. The cover was heavy, and Nanna was an old man, but he just pulled the cover like nothing and opened the box.

  “Show me de light,” he said.

  Nanny leaned over the opened ricebox with the flambeau. Nanna saw two scorpions inside the box. “Hand me someting fast!” he shouted, as he climbed into the box.

  Nanny handed him the drum. The scorpions were making a run for it. But they couldn’t run from the drum. Nanna held the drum firmly, and pounded them bup bup bup.

  Rama was bawling, and the wind and the rain were shout­ing at Tola and pounding the earth; water came through the holes in the roof more and more. Nanna picked up Rama. He handed him to Nanny and Ma. Nanna took the drum and came out of the box; the scorpions couldn’t interfere with him, because he had the drum.

  Balraj was rolling in the water; he was twelve years old, yet he was rolling in the water. The whole house was spinning with noise and water. Nanna picked up Balraj. “Now hush!”

  “I deadin. Fire lightin in me hand.”

  Nanna told Sunaree and Panday to get some ricebags and spread them out by the tapia wall. Sunaree and Panday went into the bedroom. It was dark. They felt the ground, slippery and cold under their feet. They searched with their toes for the empty ricebags. They were searching quietly because they were afraid that an evil spirit was going to hold them in the bedroom.

  “I get one bag,” Panday said.

  He bent down and took up the bag.

  “Now shake out dat bag good, befo a skopian bite you,” Sunaree warned.

  “Oright.”

  Panday shook the bag vat vat vat in the darkness. It sounded as if he was opening a dry coconut with a dull cutlass.

  Sunaree got a few bags too. She shook them and said to Panday, “Let we come outa dis dark place. I fraid if a lightnin cut out we tongues.”

  “Why you makin me fraid?”

  “I not makin you fraid.”

  Nanna heard them arguing, so he said, “Come fast wid dem bags.”

  “Oright,” Sunaree answered.

  When they brought the bags, Nanna said, “Spread dem bags by dat tapia wall. It not have no skopians dere.”

  Nanna placed Balraj upon the bags. Nanny and Ma rested Rama next to Balraj.

  “It not have no dry coverlets for dese chirens to put under dey backs?” Nanna asked.

  “No,” Ma said sadly.

  And Nanny: “Me God! Where you is God!”

  Nanna picked up a dead scorpion from the water. It was long and black. He took the light from Nanny and began roasting it. The scorpion went sooey soeey, then crack crack crack, as the flame licked the flesh. It smelt as if rubber or wet leaves were burning. The smoke came out bluish like. Then he removed the body from the flame; he blew it, then he broke out the end of the tail and threw it away. Then with a slow patience he roasted the body of the scorpion again. Nanna took the roasted scorpion and came near Balraj and Rama.

  “Eat dis,” Nanna said, handing Balraj a piece of roasted scorpion. “It go do you good.”

  “I not want dat!”

  “Eat it boy. It good for you.”

  “Me eh want it, I say.”

  Nanna reminded Balraj that he and Rama were stung by deadly scorpions; the poison was working fast; they were going to die if they didn’t eat the roasted scorpion.

  “Sappose we eat it and still dead?” Balraj asked.

  “Never!” Nanna replied.

  Resting on the wet bags, Balraj and Rama ate the scor­pion meat. They ate in fear, because their eyes were wide open as doors. When they finished the meat, Nanna made his hands into a cup. He asked Balraj and Rama to piss in his hands. Rama coughed and said that he was too sick to piss. Balraj kept saying that his bladder was empty, because he had pissed when he went for the banana leaves.

  Sunaree and Panday were listening. They were looking on; feeling sorry for Balraj and Rama like.

  “I go pee in you hand Nanna,” Panday said.

  Nanna objected. He said that the piss was going to act against the poison only if it came from Balraj and Rama. “Now Balraj and Rama all you pee in me hand!”

  “I not!” Balraj said.

  “Well den you goin to dead! And Rama too!” Nanna shouted.

  When Balraj learnt that if he and Rama didn’t pass water they were going to die, he began to piss in a great hurry.

  Nanna took the piss and rubbed it on Balraj’s hands; on his face; some even went into his mouth. Balraj spat; “Man Nanna, pee does taste wost dan skopian meat I tell you!”

  With Balraj it was easy, but Nanna had a great deal of trouble with Rama. His feet were trembling; he was almost too weak to stand, but he was strong enough to piss.

  Then Balraj and Rama settled on the wet ricebags again. Balraj was silent, but Rama was going kohok kohok kohok like a dog.

  Nanna looked on with worried eyes. He believed that some evil spirit was causing Rama to cough like a dog; the evil spirit

  was making the poison work too. Nanna started to recite some

  mantras from the Hindu scriptures; he was trying his best to drive away the evil spirit. But the spirit was upon Rama alone,

  because Balraj was not coughing like a dog; only Rama was coughing like a dog and getting on. Nanna stopped, then he told Nanny and Ma to go and get some scorpion bush.

  Nanny took a cutlass, and Ma held a flambeau; they went behind the house to look for the bush. The rain was still

  falling. They saw the night bolted against the sky; they wit­nessed the total darkness rebelling against the light and life; the night loomed and loomed and loomed as a mountain of wet coals before them. They heard the wind ripping Tola as a claw from the shapeless darkness; there was the thunder too, reaching through the night as a potent god to clout them. In the darkness they felt the fear pinching their hearts.

  “Careful de drain,” Nanny said.

  Nanny spoke too late. Ma fell splash! inside the drain. Nanny helped her up. They walked on.

  Water came from the riceland and covered up most of the yard. Most of the scorpion bush was covered by water.

  “All dis gobble,” Ma said, “and me husban not know not-ten. He by some rumshop drinkin rum. But by de help of God, me chirens goin to come man and woman in Tola.”

  “Stupidness! Leff de man.”

&nb
sp; Ma said she was not going to leave Pa. She was prepared to stick with him somehow.

  “Dat is because you stupid,” Nanny said.

  Ma and Nanny kept on looking. They heard the frogs croaking in the yard, and they heard the night birds beyond the river going craw.

  Sunaree and Panday took out their eyes when Nanna said that an evil spirit was causing Rama to cough like a dog; they were afraid of the evil spirits, especially the ones who didn’t like children. They believed that the spirit came from the forest because of the rain; the spirit was really strong on Rama, because the rain was falling and falling and making the spirit mad. Sunaree and Panday stood close to Nanna and looked on.

  Nanna closed his eyes as he recited the Sanskrit verses; he was begging the great sky God and also the minor Aryan gods; he was begging the gods; begging them to forsake their beds and their wives in heaven; begging them just to look down from the sky through the rain clouds on Balraj and Rama. He was talking to the gods like a child. He was asking them to drive away the darkness and the rain and beat the evil spirit out of the house. He believed the gods were listening to him. He opened his eyes and blew three times on Balraj. He closed his eyes again, disturbed the gods again, blew three times on Rama too, then he closed his eyes again. . . . Suddenly he asked Balraj, “How you feelin?”

  “I still sick.”

  Just as Nanna was about to pray again, Nanny and Ma walked into the house with the scorpion bush. Nanny handed him the bush saying, “We had to look like hell for dem bush.” “We go use de bush later,” Nanna said.

  “Why?” Ma asked.

  “Because de prayers have to work.”

  Nanna stood up. He closed his eyes tight, and started to pray hard hard; he was not quarrelling with God or anything; he was just begging him to beat the evil spirit and drive away the rain. Nanna prayed and prayed and prayed, but God was too busy sending the rain to drown the earth.

  “Stop prayin!” Nanny shouted.

  But Nanna closed his eyes even tighter and prayed more and more.

  Nanny pushed him and said, “Stop prayin you modderass! De chirens sick. Give dem de skopian bush.”

  Nanna opened his eyes and said that the prayers were going to work, because the Aryan gods were willing to help. “Look! Give de chirens de medicine!”

  “Oright!” Nanna shouted.

  Nanna bent down, picked up the leaves and went into the kitchen. He washed them out with the rainwater that fell from the thatched roof. Then he took the rolling pin and ground the leaves. When he was satisfied, he threw the leaves into a Iota, then he poured some water into the brassware and stirred the water with his fingers. He tasted the mixture. It was bitterish, but good. He walked out of the kitchen with the bush medicine.

  “Drink half Balraj and Leff half for Rama,” Nanna directed.

  Balraj drank half of the medicine and gave the Iota to Rama; Balraj didn’t make a bad face or anything like that; he just handed the iota to Rama, wiped his mouth with the rice-bag, and remained quiet as a stone. But Rama didn’t even bother to drink; he just handed Nanna the Iota and lied down on the bags as a dead dog.

  Rama was too sick; he couldn’t even sit up properly. He was lying down on the ricebags without even bothering to groan.

  “Rama feelin good,” Nanna said. “He not even groanin. De prayers workin now.”

  “Give Rama some medicine!” Nanny shouted.

  “But de prayers workin. If de prayers cant help no medi­cine cant help!”

  “You just give dat chile dat medicine!”

  Nanna grumbled, but he bent down, lifted Rama’s head, and put the Iota to his lips. Rama took a long time to drink; even so, he drank just a little. Then Nanna rested him on the ricebags again.

  Nanny stood looking at Balraj and Rama. She felt sorry for them. She wanted them to sleep, because once they were asleep, they would have nothing to fear. Nanny unstrung the drum from around her neck. She sat on the slippery floor with her back resting against the tapia wall, then she heated the drum slowly. Nanny was a good drummer, the best in Tola. Her fingers moved slow and clever. Nanny swayed from side to side as if she was trying hard to make the drum talk. Ma and Sunaree danced. Panday listened. But Nanna was stand­ing as a carat tree and praying hard like hell. Suddenly the drumming ended. Nanny stood up as a cane shoot. Rama was vomiting orks sputs orks sputs. . . . He was vomiting as if he was dying; vomiting green green on the ricebags.

  “O God me chile deadin!” Ma screamed.

  Ma ran and held on to Rama; he was still vomiting; his eyes were closed, but he was seeing, just as jumbie bird sees in daylight.

  Nanna opened his eyes and said, “He not deadin. Have patience. God goin to drive dat spirit away.”

  And Nanny: “Stop prayin oldman! Go and get a horse cart and take dese chirens to Tolaville Haspital.”

  “I not goin,” Nanna replied. “God have to drive dat spirit away!”

  Nanny ran up to Nanna. She told him that he had to get the horse cart and carry Balraj and Rama to Tolaville Hospital, because the prayers were of no use.

  “But de river too high up,” Nanna cooed.

  “To hell wid de river! Take dese chirens to de hospital else dey goin to dead in dis house.”

  Nanny was talking hard, but Nanna was talking easy. He said he needed a horse cart, but he reminded Nanny he had

  no horse cart. The hospital was three miles away; he couldn’t carry them on his head. Tola River was high; even if he got a horse cart borrow in Rajput Road he couldn’t cross Tola River with the cart to come to the house.

  “Swim dat river and borrow a horse cart!” Nanny shouted. Nanna explained that the river was going burp burp . . . the night birds were going craw craw craw. The night was

  turning and twisting like a black spider; and the thunder, the lightning and the rain were ripping up Tola as if the sky God was mad.

  Nanny was in a rage; Rama was vomiting; Ma was bawl-

  ing; and Balraj was getting on and getting on and getting on. “Now you go and get dat horse cart!” Nanny screamed. “But how I goin to cross dat river wid dat horse cart?”

  Nanna asked in a high voice.

  Nanny told him to get a horse cart in Rajput Road, then go up to Atkinson Settlement, cross the iron bridge, then come to Tola Trace through Karan Settlement.

  “But if I go all dat distance wid de horse, by de time I come back day goin to be clean out. Dat go take too long. Lemme pray a little more and see if it go help.”

  “Go! Go! Go!!!” Nanny screamed.

  Nanna left same time.

  Ma was bawling, “De poison cover up me chile!”

  And Nanny: “Don’t get on so! You is a big woman. Wen you get on so you makin de chirens fraid.”

  And Sunaree: “We done fraid like hell Nanny!”

  Ma felt grief; her grief was not as shallow as a basket, it was deeper than a river; deep like the sea; like a sea without fishes.

  “Bring some coconut oil Panday,” Nanny said.

  “I fraid like hell to go in dat kitchen Nanny. I fraid a jumbie hold me and eat me.”

  “Go wid him,” Nanny said to Sunaree.

  Sunaree walked in front. Panday followed her, but not too close because he was afraid of the jumbie. It was dark, but Sunaree knew exactly where to find the coconut oil.

  “Wot God Join now?” Panday asked.

  “He watchin from de sky.”

  “But de sky black like coals.”

  “God still watchin.”

  “Well God playin de ass now!”

  Sunaree told Panday that God was going to make the Devil eat him cries cries. Panday ran out of the kitchen. Sunaree brought the coconut oil and handed it to Nanny. Nanny removed the brown paper cap. She took some oil and rubbed down Rama. Then Nanny moved over a little
and rubbed down Balraj too.

  “Dat trove up on dem bags smellin wost dan cow pee!” Panday said.

  “God go bite you,” Sunaree warned.

  “All you shut all you mouts!” Ma shouted.

  Nanny felt good. She felt just like a doctor. She put the oil bottle to Rama’s lips and told him to drink. Rama drank. But he started to vomit again; he wasn’t vomiting anything; just the coconut oil that went green in his stomach.

  “God! Dis time me chile deadin!” Ma bawled.

  Nanny trembled. “Hush! De chile go live. Just now de horse cart comin. Keep corage.”

  And Ma: “Me chile deadin!”

  “Stop gettin on so!” Nanny shouted.

  Ma listened to her. She stopped the bawling, but she couldn’t remain quiet; she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, and the tears just rolled down her face.

  Nanny didn’t know what to do. The rain was falling and the thunder and the lightning were walking all over the vil­lage; just walking all over the place. Nanny took the hand drum and beated and beated and beated until Nanna came.

  “You get de horse cart?” Nanny asked doubtfully.

  “Yeh,” Nanna answered.

  “Where it is?”

  “Over de river.”

  “But how you goin to take Balraj and Rama over dat river?” Nanny asked.

  Nanna explained how he couldn’t go all the way to Atkinson Settlement with the horse; it was a waste of time. He just borrowed the cart from Rajput Road, came up Tola Trace, swam the river, and came to carry Balraj and Rama to Tolaville.

  “But how you goin to carry dem over de river?”

  “I go swim wid dem.”

  “But sappose dey drownd?”

  “Den I go drownd wid dem!”

  There was no time to waste. Nanna took up Balraj and Nanny picked up Rama. They walked out of the house. Ma,

  Sunaree and Panday walked behind.

  The sky rolled as an endless spider and the rain fell like a shower of poison over Tola. The darkness was thicker than black mud, and the wind howled as evil spirits.