Nyira and the Invisible Boy

by K. M. Harrell

  “That was not something you saw in my dreams!”

  “I saw lots of things in your dreams. Was it not the lion you wanted?”

  Juliette laughed. “How foolish of me. I should have described what a lion looked like.”

  “But it did protect you,” said Enriquillo.

  “Yes. Thank, you. It did protect me. Now let’s go find my sister.”

  *

  Enriquillo remained invisible while Juliette talked with Babette. Unfortunately, Babette did not know where Clarissa was hiding. However, she knew that Ona Ma would know. Ona Ma was soot-colored and a cook in the Bissett household. She also acted as grandmother to all the female slaves with children. Her shack was a shrine to her home in Africa. She had hand-carved masks and various deities situated around the one room. Even the chairs she sat on were ceremonial. There were altars too, laden with discarded food items and dried fruit from the masters table. Ona Ma was also a thin woman, and so was not the commonly wide, respected old woman of Babette and Juliette’s village. But Ona Ma would not tell where Clarissa was hiding.

  “And I will deny it if you tell someone that I know.”

  “But if we don’t find her before sunup,” said Juliette. “It will be too late to get them away.” The old woman was still suspicious.

  “I would die if something happened to poor Clarissa and her children. For all I know, you someone trying to get the livre the master offering.”

  Juliette thought for a moment. “All right, Ona Ma. What if I told you the divine one himself will help them escape?” The old woman just stared at Juliette.

  “That means nothing. Anyone coul—” A mango appeared on the floor beside Ona Ma’s left foot. The old woman fainted. Juliette caught her before her head hit the floor. It took her and Babette five minutes to revive Ona Ma. All during this time, Babette looked hard at her younger sister.

  “I never thought you’d keep anything from me,” Babette said.

  “I didn’t,” said Juliette, as they carried Ona Ma to her bed. “There was no time to tell you. We have to find Clarissa and her children. So we can get them to safety.”

  “Will I get to meet him?”

  Ona Ma opened her eyes once they laid her down. The old woman began to sing an old tribal song that Juliette recognized, for praising the gods.

  “I don’t think now is the best time, Babette. If she faints again, we may not be able to revive her.”

  Once they got Ona Ma calmed down, she told Juliette that Clarissa and the children were hiding in the jungle behind the calenda grounds. And if someone she knew called to her, she would light a torch and come out.

  When they got to the halfway point, between the calenda grounds and the Elm tree where Bruno and André waited, Juliette made a choice.

  “I must go to the calenda grounds, Enriquillo. Go and tell Bruno and André I will meet them there.”

  “Your Bruno will be angry if I come back without you.”

  “Yes. I know. But tell him I will be waiting for him to come and dance.”

  When Bruno caught sight of Enriquillo without Juliette, he jumped from the tree—he grabbed the vine only as an afterthought. He was at a full run when he hit the ground.

  “What happened? Where’s Juliette? Did they capture her?” He was breathless.

  “She—”

  “Is she hurt! Oh god! I should never have let her—”

  “She’s at the calenda field.”

  André slid from the tree a lot slower, using the vine.

  “What? Why aren’t you with her? What—” Bruno took off without an answer.

  “Bruno, wait!” hollered André. “Where is he going?”

  “Juliette said for him to meet her at the calenda field.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s where the old woman said your wife was hiding with your children.” André set off after Bruno. Without a torch, he quickly lost track of him in the tall ferns, thick brambles, and high grasses. Bruno was running like a man going to put out a fire. If André hadn’t known where he was going, he never would have found him. Enriquillo brought up the rear. He arrived at the field just after André.

  “Juliette!” screamed Bruno. “I’m here! You can come out now!” No answer. When Enriquillo arrived, he told them what the old woman said would bring André’s wife out. Bruno tried that, too—and still got no answer. He was pacing so fast he was raising dust in the dry, hard dirt. The quarter moon highlighted the sweat on his brow and the whites of his eyes as he continued to howl Juliette’s name. He finally wheeled around and charged at Enriquillo.

  “Did she say anything else, Enriquillo? Maybe she’s hiding somewhere. Did she possibly say something else?”

  “Yes, she did,” replied the boy.

  “What? Tell me!”

  “She said for you to come and dance.”

  “What!” Bruno looked like he could kill the boy, so André stepped in.

  “Why don’t you let me try, Bruno.”

  André was right; once he gave a call they saw a torch, and it was coming toward them. When the persons emerged from the bush, it wasn’t Clarissa. It was two men and a woman. One of the men was Christian, and the woman was Juliette.

  “Your wife is safe, André,” came Christian’s deep voice. “I have been protecting her. And I thank you for sending me mine.” He raised his and Juliette’s hand together.

  “Bruno, stay back! I’ll be fine,” said Juliette. Her tone made it sound like this was nothing, as if she’d just sprained her ankle out in the fields. Bruno knew she thought he would be afraid. That wasn’t true anymore. He had already decided that he would never concede anything again, especially what he felt for her.

  “You will not take her, Christian,” said Bruno, stepping up to face the larger man. “You don’t really want her. You just want a reason to kill me, isn’t that right?”

  Christian’s torchlit silhouette cast a massive shadow over the calenda field. He let go of Juliette, gave his torch to the other man, and stepped up to face Bruno.

  “You’re a fool,” replied Christian. “But it won’t matter when you’re dead.”

  “Why?” asked Bruno. “My death won’t bring back Madeline’s love.”

  André came up and touched Bruno on the shoulder. “Here, my friend,” he said. “You might need this.” He placed a machete in Bruno’s hands. He saw Christian’s eyes light up at the sight of the blade. That’s when Bruno knew he would die.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I brought my own,” said the big man, unstrapping the weapon from his belt. Bruno had a notion to go and hack André’s hands off. He always thought of the worst thing to do in any situation. He was not unfamiliar with the blade—he’d worked the cane field for a long time, too. The handle was hot from where André held it, but it still felt light and sure. That was important because he had to bring it up quickly to block Christian’s sudden attack with a downward slice. Bruno had the strangest thought. He was thankful that Christian wasn’t as strong as Arnaud, because that blow would have shattered his blade and split him in two. He was quick enough to keep his feet moving and fend off Christian’s wild lunges and swipes. While this battle was taking place, Enriquillo and André snuck into the bush and found Clarissa and the children.

  At first, she was afraid of her husband.

  “No. Clarissa. I’m no longer angry. We must escape. The divine one will help us.” Enriquillo appeared then, and if it wasn’t for the way the woman cried out and fell to her knees before him, he would have admonished André.

  “Yes. We must go,” said Enriquillo, trying to sound wise, like Agueybana—even if it felt silly. When they came into the field again, Christian was still slashing at Bruno in earnest, frustrated he hadn’t been able to kill him already. Once again, André caused a mishap. When they came out into the open, and he saw that Bruno was holding his own.

  “Ah hee! Kill him, Bruno!” André hollered. Bruno, distracted just enough, tripped over an obscured root and fell. Chris
tian quickly took advantage. As Bruno scrambled to his feet, Christian’s blade came down and hacked off the first two fingers from his left hand.

  “Oh Bruno!” cried Juliette, as if it was she who had been cut.

  “I’m fine,” said Bruno, to reassure her.

  The wound still weakened him, and even though he showed no sign of surrender, Christian was emboldened by the blood. He soon caught Bruno across the shoulder, and again in the thigh. Suddenly he was on the ground. That was the last thing he remembered.

  André told Bruno that Juliette had saved his life. She’d agreed to stay with Christian if he let Bruno live. Christian, apparently satisfied with the victory and her offer, let them take Bruno away.

  17

  Nyira didn’t speak as she sat in the wagon. She was waiting for the black woman with the basket to return. The white man who’d purchased her kept looking back at her in the bed of the wagon as if he wasn’t sure how she’d gotten there.

  “What was I thinking,” he said. Nyira gave him a little smile and sat very still. She would’ve hidden behind one of the male slaves if she thought it would help. She knew the man was considering taking her back and wasn’t sure what she could do. She had a feeling that if she could hold on until the woman came back, she would be safe. Once she laid eyes on her, she would not let her go—or so she hoped. Nyira could tell by the way she moved that she had not had any children of her own, and by the thoughts in her mind that she was only thinking of the list of items she was to purchase that day. Not having her own mother, she had observed this from the women of her village. A mother’s thoughts never strayed far from the welfare of her children. Gnangi had had ten children and knew where each of them was and what they were doing at any time of the day. None of them lived in Mael, so this was quite a feat. When the auctioneer stepped out of his building and was locking the door, the overseer stepped off the wagon and approached him. Nyira was suddenly distraught. She had to stop herself from running between the two men and saying: No! Don’t do this! I’m staying! She considered running away, rather than being given back and sold again. Even though she had no idea where she would go, but she could see the jungle and wasn’t shackled. She got down from the wagon and began to survey the area.

  “But I don’t know why I bought her,” she heard the white man say. Nyira’s heart was in her throat. There was a crowd at what looked like a market not fifty yards away. Maybe she could hide in the—

  “Hi,” said the woman from the other side of the wagon. Nyira liked the look in her eyes, and she had a pretty smile. “Do you belong to us now?” Nyira ran to the woman and grabbed her by the hand.

  “Hurry,” she said, as she pulled the woman around the wagon toward the two white men. “I think he means to give me back.”

  “What? Why?” asked the woman, looking at her strangely. “And how do you know that?”

  “Well… I… I heard them talking.”

  “But why did he buy you? He came here to get field hands.”

  “I—I don’t know. He just… he just did, and I… I would so much like to stay with you.”

  “Oh really,” she smiled at Nyira. “That is very sweet. I suppose I could use some help with the sho—”

  “Yes! Please go and tell him!” The two men walked toward the wagon.

  “You’re not thinking of taking her back?” asked the woman.

  “It appears Mr. Franscescu has—”

  “I will be keeping her!” the overseer suddenly said, and went and sat behind the reins of the wagon. “Let’s go, Esmerelda.” Esmerelda smiled at the auctioneer and climbed up next to the overseer.

  “I guess he has changed his mind again,” replied the auctioneer. Nyira jumped on the back as the wagon pulled away. She smiled and waved at the auctioneer. He waved back, even though he looked completely befuddled.

  Nyira had never seen lodges like those in this village. All of them were enormous and appeared made of a strange kind of hard clay. One structure was composed of steps that went all the way into the sky and was the color of elephant’s tusk. Another was big and tall and light grey, with colorful windows all around it. It displayed pictures of white people with wings. The village itself was a hundred times larger than the Mikoni, and there were white people everywhere. She never imagined there were this many in the whole world. But when the black woman, who was named Esmerelda, looked in the back of the wagon at her and smiled, she felt safe.

  They rode for what seemed like hours (only because Nyira was anxious to get wherever they were going). They finally pulled up to a large lodge that wasn’t as tall as the Mikoni, but still enormous, with a lot of steps leading up to the porch. On that porch were white woman and black women. All of them seemed to be waiting for them to arrive. Nyira noticed all the fields around this lodge were green and stretched far out into the distance. She wondered who the chief was here.

  The overseer took the male slaves from the wagon, but before he left, he looked at Nyira again.

  “I guess you’ll know what to do with this one?” he said to Esmerelda.

  “Yes, master Luigi, I know exactly what to do with her.” She bent down and looked at Nyira. “I know you can speak my language because you came from where I’m from. What is your name, child?”

  “I am Nyira,” Nyira said, smiling.

  “Well, I am sorry to tell you Nyira, that you will be getting a new name from these white people.”

  “Why? What is wrong with my own name?”

  “They own you now, and they like to name everything that they own.”

  “Did they give you a new name, too?” asked Nyira. Esmerelda was taken aback by the child’s directness.

  “I am not used to children. I forgot how straight to the point they can be.” A white woman came down the steps toward Nyira and Esmerelda. She looked directly at Nyira.

  “Oh, she is beautiful, Relda. And her eyes are amazing.”

  Esmerelda spoke in Nyira’s language, telling her that this was Constance, the major’s daughter. Nyira already knew this, of course. She looked at Constance and smiled. “So you speak her language, too, Relda. That is wonderful. Father told me I would get to name the next female slave we bought. So let’s see… I think… Camille is a nice name. What do you think, Relda?”

  “I think it’s a fine name, Miss Constance.” Nyira wasn’t so sure, but she smiled anyway.

  “I think you’d better—”

  “Just a moment!” said another short older woman who was coming down the steps. Esmerelda told Nyira that this was Josephine Mallet, the household manager. Miss Mallet stood looking at Nyira for a moment. “I wasn’t aware we needed house slaves. Are you responsible for this, Esmerelda?”

  “No, Miss Josephine. She was in the wagon when I returned from the market.” Nyira was starting to get nervous again. She gave the uncomfortable woman a smile, and she looked shocked. “What is she smiling at? Can she understand me?”

  “She understands a few words, from the ship, ma’am. But mostly no. Maybe she just likes the sound of your voice.” Josephine snorted and turned up her nose at this idea.

  “I doubt it,” she said and marched back up the stairs to the house. “Get her cleaned up and in a clean uniform, Esmerelda!” she said as she went through the front door.

  *

  “I know you are used to pagne where we come from,” said Esmerelda, as she laid out a small dress and pair of shoes on the chair next to the tub. “Here they are called dresses.”

  “Is it not permitted to bathe in the river?” asked Nyira.

  “No. The rivers are not as nice here as in the Congo.”

  “The Congo River was not nice either. There were snakes, but it was closer.” Nyira kept looking at herself in the full-length mirror next to the tub. “So you say that image is me? I have seen my face in the river, but never all of me like this.” She walked over and touched her face. “I think I like my face,” she smiled at herself.

  “All right. You can look at yourself later. Into t
he tub and wash up. We have some chores for you to start on.”

  Nyira played in the water and splashed so much that Esmerelda had to get her started with using soap and scrubbing her face and behind her ears. She also gave her an oil that smelled familiar.

  “It’s made from coconuts. We have them here. We don’t have leopards or hippos or elephants, but we do have a few other things, like the jungle.”

  “Do they have gorillas? I like gorillas.”

  “No. No gorillas here. I doubt any of these people have ever seen one.” Nyira looked disappointed. “But there are other things here that will keep you busy.”

  “Like what?”

  “You can help me with the cooking.”

  “I would rather go into the jungle.”

  “I’m afraid those days are over. No more jungle for you.”

  *

  Once Nyira finished bathing, she regarded the dark blue dress with a white collar.

  “Is there nothing with more color?”

  “These are what those who work within the house wear.”

  “And the black things are for my feet?Why do they cover themselves so? It’s hot here, too.”

  “I really don’t know. It’s just their way.”

  Nyira’s first chore was to gather eggs from the large chicken coop in the yard behind the kitchen. She was handed a big basket by Daphne, the assistant kitchen maid.

  “Does she understand French yet?” Daphne asked Esmerelda.

  “She understands some. I think the Dutch spoke it to them on the ship.”

  “YOU MUST TAKE THIS OUT TO THE COOP IN THE YARD AND BRING BACK SOME EGGS!”

  “Why is she so loud?” asked Nyira.

  “She thinks you don’t understand her.” Nyira laughed as she went out the door with the basket.

  “Why is she so happy?” asked Daphne.

  “I think she’s just happy to be off that ship.”

  Nyira liked the idea of one place where all the chickens could lay eggs. Normally she had to search the fields and bush around the village to discover where the hens had hidden them. The yard was large, consisting of a number of fruit trees, and a giant palm tree situated behind the back veranda and leaning a bit over the manor’s rear roof. There was also a duck pond at the far eastern edge of the yard. Nyira picked a pear as she went through the makeshift orchard. She could hear the chickens clucking as she approached the large coop. She hoped they wouldn’t mind her disturbing them as they sat on their nests and—something flew at her face. She instinctively threw her arms up. When she brought them down, they were slashed, as if by a small knife, and a black rooster with a large orange cone strutted between her and the coop. There was blood on the white cuffs of her new dress now. Before she could back away, it launched itself at her again, but she was ready this time and fanned her right hand in the air. The bird dropped to the ground—it was now solid stone. Nyira heard a cry from the veranda. When she turned around, Esmerelda was sprinting toward her. She stopped cold when Nyira looked at her.