Nyira and the Invisible Boy

by K. M. Harrell

  “Perhaps I can help, Mohamadou. I have keen vision and sharp hearing.”

  “You must leave, girl! I don’t need a woman to help the future chief.”

  “I cannot leave, Mohamadou. I seek counsel with the future chief. Please, it is very important.”

  The boy walked out of the bush wearing a dirty, tattered rag around his waist. He was holding the remains of a broken spear that looked like he’d found it somewhere. It had no spearhead, only a midsection where it had been broken off and formed a point. He was not more than six and appeared severely beaten. Nyira could also see the child’s ribs. She reached into the basket she was carrying and brought out some fried yams she had prepared. She knew that spirits were often hungry. Her father had taught her that you should come prepared with food to offer.

  “I have an offering to the chief,” she said, kneeling as she presented the yams. The boy snatched them and stuffed them in his mouth so quickly half of them ended up on his nose and cheeks. When he finished, she laid a cloth on the ground and placed Ndakala and kwanga in banana leaves. She said nothing and simply sat and watched the small child eat. Once he had finished and looked satisfied Nyira said:

  “Are you sated, my chief?”

  “I am, woman. What is it you wish to speak to me about?”

  “First allow me to add salve to your wounds.” The boy turned and offered his back.

  Nyira was shocked at the damage.

  “Has someone attacked you, my chief?”

  “Never mind how I sustained my wounds, woman. I am a warrior. I will be leaving soon, so it doesn’t matter.” Nyira coated some of the salve she had brought onto the boy’s bloodied narrow back.

  “I would hope to convince my chief to stay. I’m very afraid in this forest, and will need protection when I gather food.”

  “I understand, but I believe there are better places,” replied the boy. “Perhaps we can find a new forest.”

  Nyira began to cry.

  “What is troubling you, woman? Why do you cry?”

  “I am sad, my chief. I know that I must go where my chief bids me. But my family is poor and will not be able to leave with me. My father is not well. I know creatures in this jungle are fierce. If my chief can’t protect me here, I will go where you command.” The boy turned and looked at her.

  “What do you mean, I can’t protect you? I am a great warrior. I fear nothing here or in any forest.”

  “I have no doubt, my chief. But I will flee this land as you will me. We must go where we are safe.” The boy stood up; his eyes blazed with renewed fury and defiance.

  “I am lord of this land, and I will decide when to leave and when to stay. You will be safe here. All my people will be safe. Nothing will challenge my rule!”

  “By your word, my chief. My family and I thank you. Shall I prepare another meal?”

  “Yes,” said the boy. “I will need my strength. And then you may go about the forest and gather what you need for your family. Nothing will interfere with you here. I swear it.”

  Nyira disappeared into the bush, as the boy stood holding his broken little spear, guarding his jungle.

  *

  Enriquillo led Christian and Juliette and the rest of their group into the western mountains.

  “You must hide yourself well,” he said. “There are some good caves in this region. The slave platoons will be searching for you as well. I would say only come out at night until you know the area.”

  “Will you keep our location from Bruno?” asked Christian.

  “Yes, just as your wife requested. I will come back later and guide you to some of the freshwater coves.”

  “I never thought I would see the jungle again,” replied Christian. “Not like this.”

  “It’s not like the jungle you came from,” said Enriquillo. “There are no leopards.”

  “How do you know about leopards?” asked Christian, surprised.

  “Your wife showed me. I must leave. But remember: only come down to the valley at night, to hunt and fish.”

  “Thank you and your healer for saving my life.”

  It wasn’t long before a few escapees, more familiar with Christian, chose to join his band. Christian had no problem being called chief. Enriquillo hoped that they wouldn’t cross paths, but knew that wasn’t realistic.

  33

  Three nights following Christian and Juliette’s escape, Enriquillo slipped into the stockyard on the Bissett property and let out four large sows and three boars. He also managed to retrieve two milk cows from the barn. He herded the animals toward the jungle at the edge of the property. André and three other runaways met him in the middle of the potato fields. The pigs were content, as they fed on the crop. The cows didn’t seem to care one way or the other. There was a moderate amount of moonlight. Bruno and twelve more of his men were waiting in the jungle. The pigs didn’t want to leave the potatoes until the men got ropes around their necks. Before they were able to get the animals up the trail toward camp, they heard a familiar voice.

  “I would appreciate one of those pigs,” said Christian. Bruno got quiet and drew his machete.

  “You will have to take it,” replied Bruno. “What do you want with a pig? You’re the king of the property.”

  “Things have changed, Bruno. I had to leave to protect my family.”

  “What family? Show yourself.”

  “You outnumber us. I’d heard you sometimes came back to get food. I don’t want to fight.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “There aren’t many of us. We can help each other. My wife—”

  “She’s not your wife! Show yourself!” He began to hack wildly at the surrounding bush.

  “Juliette has made me see,” continued Christian. “We need to work together to survive.”

  “Where is she?” demanded Bruno. “Release her and I will consider sparing you.”

  “If you leave one of the pigs, I will release her,” replied Christian.

  “Where?” asked Bruno. “Where will you release her?”

  “Leave the pig, and I will let the boy bring her to you.”

  Bruno glared at Enriquillo. “I should’ve known you’d know where they were. Leave them a pig!” ordered Bruno, and stalked off into the jungle. Three hours later, Enriquillo and Juliette entered Bruno’s camp.

  Her hair was no longer in the long flowered braids; it was short and her garment was just a plain brown frock. Someone brought her the duho stool that Bruno sometimes sat on. Bruno did not approach her but hid himself away in the bohio, as if he was still shy. Yiella brought her a gourd of water.

  “Thank you, Yiella,” said Juliette and embraced her. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You look different,” replied Yiella. “Being a mother will do that.”

  “Yes. I suppose so. I’m still getting used to it.”

  “Why?” said Bruno. He’d come up behind the women as they talked.

  “I—I don’t understand what you’re asking,” replied Juliette. “You said you—”

  “Why didn’t you let me die…?” He didn’t care if his men saw he was crying.

  “Oh, Bruno, I couldn’t.” She took a step toward him, but he moved back. “I loved you…”

  “I told you not to! I told you!”

  “I couldn’t,” cried Juliette. “I just…”

  “I had everything I wanted. I wasn’t afraid because I knew you loved me. That was enough for me. Now what have I got?”

  “But you have all these people who need you.” She took a step toward him again. “Don’t you—”

  “Go away!” he shouted. “Go back to… just go away.” He turned away and headed back to the bohio.

  “I’m sorry,” cried Juliette. “I love—”

  “Don’t say it!” cried Bruno, drawing out his machete and putting it to his own neck. “If you do, I will cut my throat. Then you will get to watch me die anyway. Go away, please!”

  “We can go back now if you wish
,” said Enriquillo, and went to take her hand. Juliette’s response was to look at him and then faint. Bruno ran to her and picked her up.

  “We can take her to my hut,” said Yiella. “I’ll make sure she’s comfortable.”

  “No,” said Bruno. “It was me that upset her. She can sleep in the hammock.”

  “But where will you sleep?”

  “I won’t. I don’t sleep much these days anyway. I will stay awake and watch over her as she used to watch over me.” He carried Juliette to his bohio. “Send one of the children to fetch André and Julio from their positions at the edge of the valley.”

  “Is she well?” asked André when he entered the bohio.

  “She’s resting,” replied Bruno. André smiled.

  “Well, now you can cheer up. You have her back.”

  “No, I don’t. That’s why I sent for you and Julio. She will be going back to her husband. But I don’t want her to walk.”

  “What? Why are you giving her back? He stole her.”

  “No, he didn’t. She doesn’t belong to me. And she will not walk back.”

  “You want us to steal a horse?” asked Julio.

  “Even a mule would be fine. Something she can ride back to her husband on. Take three men and some rifles.”

  *

  They entered the property along the eastern fields, through the cane crop. During the day it was being harvested, but so far the field hands had barely made a dent. Its stalks were still densely packed, and as they crawled along the ground among them, the heat that was trapped below the leaves rose up and assaulted them. By the time they reached the edge of the fields behind the slave quarters, they were dripping with sweat. They moved quickly through this district and hoped no one noticed them—but knew that that was a slim possibility. There were hundreds of shacks because Bissett held one of the largest slave populations on Saint Domingue. Over five hundred slaves lived in the quarters, and another hundred and fifty lived in the manor house and stables, to work the dairy, stockyard, and stables. Someone was always awake in the quarters. Nothing was ever formally stated that they should be, but somebody always watched and knew what had happened the night before. André just hoped it wasn’t one of the overseer’s spies, or someone trying to gain favor with an overseer.

  “We need to pick up the pace now,” he said when they left the quarters. “In case somebody was watching and sent word.” They also wore dark clothing dyed with blueberries, just so they wouldn’t be betrayed by the moonlight.

  When they reached the stables, André and Julio went in. André had hacked off a few stalks of cane. “For the horse,” he said. “To keep it quiet as we walk it through the fields.”

  The three other men with the rifles waited along each side of the building, watching for someone coming up from behind. Most of the horses were asleep, but one brown mare in the third stall came and poked her head out. She recognized André and gave him a little whinny and bobbed her head. André peeled a piece of sugar cane and fed it to her. “This is Josephine,” he told Julio. “She was always a light sleeper.”

  “Well, at least she won’t fight you,” said Julio. “Let’s take her.” They led the horse out of the stables, along the same path Enriquillo had taken when he took the white colt. Josephine was a deep dark brown so the moon couldn’t give them away—besides, the clouds kept it at bay.

  When they reached the western edge of the cane fields, they came out at the beach and walked Josephine about two miles along the shore. The beach ended at an embankment leading up to the road into town. It was their intention to cross the road and head back to the jungle, but as they came over the rise a troop of mounted police were just passing. For a moment, the two groups froze as they registered what was happening. On instinct, André jumped onto Josephine’s back. That’s when one of the mounted policemen shouted:

  “Don’t move! Put down your weapons!” Josephine seemed to sense the urgency and took off before André had a chance to mount her completely—he was hanging over the side. This position actually made him a harder target, and then one of the three armed runaways fired upon the troopers. Josephine had already barreled past the troop and was in full gallop when they began to return fire. André took the shortcut through the bush at the edge of town. Once he was upright, he let Josephine have her head, feeling that if anyone got in his way or tried to stop them, they’d be run over.

  *

  Julio had taken cover quickly when the mounted police began to surround his position. When the runaway named Gaston was killed, he knew they were in trouble. He had been their best sharpshooter. There were just too many troopers with endless amounts of ammunition. When they killed the second runaway named Leland, he considered taking up a rifle, but Pasqual went down soon after. That’s when Julio dropped to the ground and showed no resistance. It wasn’t until they placed him in irons that he realized he would probably not stay in jail long, that the Montoya plantation would soon come to retrieve him. That is when he wished he had fought to the death.

  *

  When André rode into the camp alone, Bruno had a good idea of what had occurred.

  “I was worried that somebody from the quarters would sound us out,” said André. “But we just had bad luck running in those troopers like that.”

  Losing Julio did not improve Bruno’s mood. He had been the most capable man in his camp. It was Julio that had taught the men how to load and shoot the captured rifles.

  “What are we going to do, Bruno?” asked André. “We can’t let them get away with taking Julio.”

  “Shut up and let me think,” Bruno told him. He sat quiet for a long time looking out over the valley. Finally, he said: “You and six others take some rifles and get Juliette back to her husband. I’ll tell you what we’ll do when you return.”

  When André got back that evening, he had a message from Christian.

  “He wants to enter the camp and talk,” said André. “He waits in the forest for your answer.” Bruno made him wait over an hour, as he turned the hatred he felt for him over in his mind. He finally told André to bring him in.

  “Them,” replied André. “He has four of his men with him.”

  “Of course he does,” replied Bruno. “Why should they allow their chief to put himself in danger?”

  Bruno sat on the front porch of his bohio and watched Christian approach. He had already heard the story of how Nyira had brought him back from the brink of death and healed his flesh. As he thought about this, he looked at his own wound, inflicted by this man. The behike was only able to heal the outside, and Juliette had ensured that nothing would heal the inside. The torches along Christian’s path cast a wide shadow and brought back the memory of their battle. He only had to pick up the rifle sitting next to him and exact his revenge upon Juliette’s husband. He felt that was the best way to refer to him, so that he wouldn’t want to kill him. It would hurt Juliette. That’s what he could tell himself. It was the best he could do.

  When Christian got within five yards of the bohio, he stopped and looked at Bruno. All his men laid down their machetes when he told them to.

  “They won’t help us against guns anyway,” said Christian.

  “What do you want?” demanded Bruno.

  “First, let me extend my deepest thanks for the hospitality to my… Juliette.”

  “That is why you walked all this way?”

  “No. I came because I want to help you take revenge for Julio.” Bruno looked at André.

  “Did you not want me to tell him?” asked André.

  “I haven’t yet decided what I’ll do.”

  “I know exactly what we should do,” said Christian.

  “What would that be?”

  “We should steal Josephine and Pierre Paul.”

  “You want us to sneak onto the property and take Mistress Bissett’s personal maid and the household manager?”

  “We don’t have to go to the property. She and Pierre go to the market every Monday morning. No one
will expect such a thing.”

  “Bissett will have the mounted police searching for those two.”

  “Yes. We will also set the cane field on fire. It will distract them.”

  “No one will be guarding them,” said Bruno. “So why set the cane on fire?”

  “Because I want to, and it will make Bissett very unhappy.”

  34

  Nyira’s reputation as a healer had reached other plantations. Esmerelda, acting as her shield, was the means by which a request was conveyed. She came to Nyira in the stables that evening as she brushed down three of the major’s horses. Since the healing of Christian, she knew this latest task would be very hard on the child. A stable slave on the Orbon plantation had fallen forty feet from the grain loft, breaking his neck and back.

  “Someone has asked for help,” said Nyira when she saw Esmerelda standing quietly in the doorway of the stables. The sun went down over her left shoulder, giving her a haunted shadowy aura.

  “It doesn’t mean we should, Nyira. Some people are meant to die.”

  “So you don’t want me to help people?”

  “It’s not that, child. We just have to be careful. If you continue these miracles, you will be at risk. We both will.”

  “Can we still help Bruno and Christian?”

  “It’s fine if you want to help those in the mountains. You’re only one person. Even the priest’s god can’t save everyone.”

  “So we will turn down this person who asked you tonight?”

  “Yes. I know it might seem harsh. But too many saw him fall, and know he won’t live.”

  “And if I—”

  “Questions will be asked. And you know by whom.”

  “Then you will tell them I can’t help them?”

  “I will say you only use herbs to heal.”

  “As you wish, Nolwazie. I promised to keep you from danger.”

  “And I told you, that danger doesn’t adhere to the whims of a child.”