by Sarah Lark
So, she almost felt regret when Mansah finally joined her while she was grinding millet in the morning and mashing it together with cassava. She struggled with dizziness and nausea even more as she set the pot of lentils on the fire, which she had cooked the night before. Akwasi would eat it with the mash. Nora, on the other hand, was already ill at the thought of it. She didn’t want any mashed grain and longed for a piece of bread or cheese.
“Smells delicious!” Mansah said, put her finger in the pot and tasted the stew. “Lots of pepper, just how I like it!”
Nora held back her sick, but then remembered her manners — and especially the fact that no one should notice her pregnancy. Akwasi had already begun to watch his slave suspiciously.
“Take some quietly,” she encouraged the girl. Akwasi would think that she had eaten the food herself. That might sway him to feeling more secure. Mansah did not have to be told twice. She first reached into the mash and then into the pot with the stew, and licked both from her hands. Nora felt her nausea welling up again, but then Mansah remembered her mission.
“I found baarm madda!” she whispered to Nora. “Was difficult. She don’t want Nanny to know what she do. Nanny wants to be only one. But Tolo already did before Nanny came to Maroons!”
So, not a slave, but a free black from birth. Nora took a sigh of relief. The Maroon women treated her much better than the freed slaves. They harbored no fundamental hatred against the whites. In Nanny Town, however, they were in the minority.
Nora furrowed her brow. “Who is this Tolo?” she inquired. She couldn’t remember any woman by that name.
Mansah helped herself from the millet again. “Tolo don’t live here,” she said with her mouth full. “Not in town. People say she a witch—”
Nora smiled. “That is what the whites say about all baarm madda,” she said.
“And she once fight with Nanny. Lives in bush, upriver. One hour.” Mansah reached into the pot with the lentils. “Very good. Very good for white Missis!” She grinned at her former mistress.
Nora forced herself to smile. “And will she help me?” she asked, nervously. “Have you spoken to her? It will be hard to get there; it will take me half a day.”
She dreaded the thought of making her way through the bush, especially coming back. Most of the baarm maddas helped the women by scraping the baby out of them with a sort of spoon. After that, they were supposed to rest. The women who had died after this, reported to Nora of long walks to a healer on the next plantation or the one after that — and subsequently working on the fields.
With her mouth full, Mansah tried to simultaneously nod and shake her head. “Did not talk to her, only with other women. But she always help; Tolo is poor, needs things. When women sick, they pay with millet, fruit … those kinds of things. But when getting rid of a child, she want chicken.”
And that, too. Nora rubbed her temples. She would have to steal a chicken like the slaves for their Obeah ceremonies. If she hadn’t been in such hopeless despair, she would have laughed.
“Missis can go tomorrow,” the practical Mansah said. “Tomorrow they clear land for new people.”
Nanny’s Maroon’s had attacked another plantation in the last week and brought back two-dozen freed slaves in addition to their rich spoils. Since then, there had been a state of discord in Nanny Town. Apparently, there had been a difference of opinion between Nanny and Quao about whether more raids should take place or not, and on the previous day, a delegation had come from Cudjoe Town, where the leader was seriously out of sorts. Nora assumed that it was Cudjoe himself, Nanny’s older brother. At any rate, the three leaders had been loudly quarreling since then in their native African tongue.
“And when so much fire and so many people, Missis can run away easily. Is not hard to find Tolo, Antonia says. River curve, stream flows in, Missis go upstream until pond at spring, there is Tolo’s hut.”
Mansah had probably wanted to say more, but then Akwasi’s powerful figure appeared in the door of the hut.
“Is breakfast ready?” he asked Nora, coldly. “Then you can go to the field.”
Akwasi never had breakfast together with Nora — at least with some African tribes it didn’t seem to be common for men and women to eat together. Of course, Akwasi had grown up with no such tradition, but he seemed to like to remember his roots.
Nora stood up obediently. “Thank you for your visit, Mansah,” she said, formally. “And, of course, I will help clear the land tomorrow. You really needn’t be afraid of the fire, the men are careful. And otherwise you can just stay close to me …”
Mansah winked at her cheerfully as they both got up. She understood the deceit. “I don’t let go of Missis skirt!” she said.
If someone asked her later, she would swear to have spent the whole day with Nora.
The following morning dawned with a strong wind that would make it difficult to clear the fields with fire. In fact, there were more men than usual to help out on the fields and Mansah was right: everything was a bit hectic. It started with the fact that unmarried women were looking at the men and making jokes with them. The men who were already resident in Nanny Town watched suspiciously, as the girls approached the newcomers. The newcomers danced and laughed, intoxicated by their newly won freedom that was now also topped off with the acquisition of their own land. It was easy for Nora to sneak away when the flames finally surged up — and on her way to the hen houses, she found the village almost deserted. That was just as well, since the hen that she had chosen for Tolo absolutely did not want to be caught. Nora had no experience with chickens. Getting a hold of the animal took a long time. All of the chickens clucked in revolt and the hen struggled violently as Nora put it in a sack.
“I’m so very sorry,” she apologized to the animal while she tied the sack and threw it over her shoulder. She didn’t know if Tolo wanted the chicken alive, but she had never slaughtered an animal and could not bring herself to unceremoniously snap the neck.
She then climbed down to the river. There were several paths, more or less difficult to pass, and Nora chose the steepest and most dangerous one. She hoped that it was not watched as closely as the others — especially since the guards were more concentrated on intruders than people leaving Nanny Town. Nora was the only person forbidden from doing so. She covered her hair in a colorful veil so that she looked like some of the African woman who did the same. If Nora imitated them, the watchmen would surely not stop her.
However, she did not deceive herself by thinking that she would remain unseen the entire way to Tolo. Nanny Town’s defenses worked perfectly. Even if Nanny didn’t like the “witch,” she was still undoubtedly under the protection of the Windward Maroons. The river might have seemed abandoned, but Nora was certain that watchful eyes followed her along her path. Filled with shame, she wondered if the men knew the meaning of the chicken in her sack. The wriggling, protesting hen surely did not remain hidden.
Tolo’s hut was not very far. It took about an hour of walking, but that was more due to the fact that there was no proper path along the river. Occasionally, when the riverbank was sandy, Nora could make out a woman’s narrow footprints. She chose a path through ferns and lichens, where diverse insects were hiding. Despite her sad mission, Nora reveled in the sight of the colorful butterflies, but also had to suffer from the biting insects feasting on her calves.
Despite the shady riverbank, Nora was drenched in sweat when she finally reached the curve in the river and stumbled across the stream. She washed her face and hands in it and now even dared to let the veil fall. A Maroon watchman must have known that she was on her way to Tolo and would at least stay out of women’s affairs for the time being. Of course, he might later tell Akwasi about the escapades of his slave, but Nora didn’t care. Akwasi would punish her when she returned, but at least her most urgent problem would be taken care of.
Tolo’s hut was well-camouflaged at the edge of a pond that was fed by a bubbling spring. An idyllic place — th
e women in Nanny Town said that good spirits also very much liked to stay in such areas. That is probably why Tolo had chosen such a location. The old woman sat at a fire in front of her hut and looked at Nora with attentive, pale eyes.
“Tolo?” she asked, timidly.
The old woman made a face and Nora didn’t know if it was a grimace or a smile. Tolo was more plump than Nanny and certainly much older, but not much taller. She was most likely not Ashanti, but had come from another part of Africa.
“Who else?” she then responded. “And you … I had heard that Nanny has a white woman in the town. But I didn’t believe it.”
“I’m not there of my own accord,” Nora said, sharply. She was feeling ill again. Tolo was burning herbs in the fire, probably to keep insects away. On top of that, she was also cooking a stinking mixture in a pot.
Tolo then clearly grinned. “Me neither,” she remarked. “None of us is in the country voluntarily, but at least you weren’t dragged here naked in chains on a ship. With such complaints, child, you won’t make any friends.”
Nora noted that Tolo spoke excellent English.
“But you have always been here, ma’am,” she automatically accorded Tolo a level of respect. Tolo was impressive and her personality was just as regal as Nanny’s. “You were born here, weren’t you?”
Tolo nodded. “But my mother was raped,” she said. “And I … Let’s say I had a better position in my tribe before Cudjoe, Accompong, Nanny, and Quao united the Maroons. But I shouldn’t be at odds. Ultimately, it’s better like this — at least for the Maroons. For the slaves, it will be worse when Cudjoe signs a contract.”
“Nanny Town is taking them in masses,” Nora said.
She should have brought the subject back to her real problem, but it was interesting to talk to this clearly intelligent woman about the Maroons, the whites, and the slaves in Jamaica.
“Still,” Tolo said. “If they want peace with the governor, they have to agree to send them back. Nanny doesn’t like that. I don’t think that she’s very concerned with the freed slaves. Rather, she has fun with the raids and the many dead white backras … If it were up to her, all of Kingston would burn. She is full of hatred.”
Just like Máanu, Nora thought.
“Maybe they will send me back then,” she said, hopefully.
Tolo shrugged. “If anyone in Kingston cared about you, white woman, they would have done it long ago. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. And if you are with child—”
Nora looked at her, surprised. “How do you know that?”
The old woman laughed. “With a little experience, one can see that right away, girl. And Nanny surely knows it, too — and is probably thanking her gods that you have found the way to me. Your child only brings trouble. That is, if you bring it into the world, then your nigger will have to marry you. A white servant as a reward for an exceptional warrior might be acceptable. But a wedding could create troubles with the English. In case someone really does want you back. Your nigger would have to give back his slave. Not his wife.”
“I don’t want the child!” Nora cried.
Toro shrugged. “Are you sure? Your position in the village would improve …”
“I don’t want a better position in Nanny Town! I want to get away. I want—” Nora balled her fists.
“And it is your child. Your first, am I right? Have you never wanted one?”
Nora remained quiet. She couldn’t honestly deny it. After all, there were times that she had dreamed of children. Of course, back when she was together with Simon, but also in the last weeks when she thought of Doug. She would have even considered a child from Elias acceptable in the first months of their marriage. At least she certainly would not have thought of terminating the pregnancy. But here, in slavery, among all the hostile women …
“You don’t want a slave child,” Tolo summarized Nora’s thoughts, as if she had read her mind. “But you also wouldn’t get one. The child would be free; it would be your husband’s heir.”
“What does he have to hand down?” Nora asked, bitterly. “A piece of land that I am forced to plow?”
“With the whites, it would be a piece of land that the niggers are forced to plow,” Tolo grinned. “Is that not the same thing? But you must know already. You pay a high price. One always pays a high price. You will dream of this child.”
Nora wanted to say that she already hadn’t dreamed in months, but of course that wasn’t the truth. All that was missing were the beautiful dreams. At night she was followed by visions of blood, and fear, and crying. And now she would create another Duppy to follow her …
“I will steal a chicken for the Obeah man,” Nora decided, “and have its spirit banished.”
Tolo laughed. “At least you know the most important rules. All right, white woman. Sit here, think about it a bit more, and I will brew a drink. Then you take it this evening and you will bleed tomorrow. And in case any of the whites wants you, you might eventually return home.”
Nora buried her face in her hands. Thinking was the last thing she wanted right now. She would have most liked not to think anymore. Especially not about Doug.
Tolo eventually returned with a corked vial filled with a dark-brown liquid. Nora took the drink gratefully, and hid it in one of the pockets of her skirt.
“And I won’t die from this?” she wanted to assure herself.
Tolo shrugged. “Do I know the will of the gods?” she asked in return. “Every woman who kills a child inside her can die along with it. This is also a price we pay. But with me, it rarely happens. Don’t worry.”
Nora initially worried about getting to Nanny Town unseen, but it looked like fate was merciful to her. When she was already halfway to the settlement, she smelled smoke and saw flames on the mountain ridge. The fire on the new fields had probably got out of control, leaving all of the men and women involved with their hands full trying to contain the fires again. Even some of the highest-ranking warriors fought and not even the young girls had abuses for Nora. As inconspicuously as possible, she lined up in the group of women that were drawing water from one of the streams and passing buckets on from one to the next. It was grueling labor, since they now had the heat of the flames in addition to that of the afternoon sun. The wind blew burning embers around, which blistered the skin and singed tiny holes into the women’s dresses. At dusk, the last glow was extinguished and the men and women dragged themselves to their huts, dead tired and dirty from sweat and ash. Many of them bathed in the river or one of the streams — several streams flowed through Nanny Town, and there were even two springs originating from the mountain ridge. That also made the settlement self-sufficient. An attempt to cut the village off from water was just as hopeless as trying to starve them out.
However, Nora denied herself the bath. It was too risky. If Tolo had seen at a glance that she was pregnant, then surely other women would notice too. The thought of having ended this hiding game by the next day filled the young woman with relief. No, the decision was right. She didn’t want a child with Akwasi and she wouldn’t have one.
Nora waited until it was completely dark and the food for Akwasi was stewing over the open fire. Akwasi had not taken part in fighting the fire and returned to the hut clean and rested. He had been at Nanny’s hut. Cudjoe, Nanny, and Quao were still quarreling, but now they were debating different possible contracts with the whites. Akwasi was to write everything down that they agreed upon. Unfortunately, there was almost no consensus found among the siblings, outside of the fact that the governor should legally recognize their settlements and permit them to trade with Kingston, Spanish Town, and other English settlements. What they in turn would offer him was fiercely debated. Akwasi spent most of the day yawning with boredom, while the siblings tried to persuade each other in the Ashanti language.
Nora sighed when she noticed his irritable mood. He would surely use her to let off some steam that night. But this time she didn’t care. He would probably notice whe
n she was sick the next day. It would be all the better if he attributed it to the nightly abuse.
Nora left him with his food at the fire and went into the hut. She didn’t put on any light — almost no one in Nanny Town used candles or oil lamps. Neither the slaves nor the displaced Africans were accustomed to artificial light. Pale moonlight fell into the space. Nora glanced at the sky and realized that it was almost a full moon — the pale face of the celestial body looked comfortingly down at her. Nora felt no remorse and none of her spirits seemed to protest what she was about to do. She said a prayer and uncorked the bottle.
Just as she put it up to her lips, the door flew open.
“You will not drink that!” Akwasi yelled at her and hit the vial with the potion out of her hand. Then he slapped her and punched her in the stomach. “Did you already drink some, you … you …” Nora retched and could not answer. Akwasi dragged her out in front of the hut and hit her again. “Puke it out, whore!” he screamed at her.
Nora threw up, sobbing beside the fire. When Nora looked up, she saw Máanu in the shadow of the hut. The young woman seemed relaxed and was apparently wearing new clothes. A bright red skirt and a woven top in the colors of the Ashanti: red like blood, yellow like gold, and green like the land.
“You …”
Máanu looked beautiful, but her aristocratic face filled with hate again when she turned to Nora.
“Yes, me. Who else? I was told that Mansah had been asking strange questions for such a young girl. So I looked into the matter. And—”
“But …”
Nora wanted to argue that Máanu was the last person who would have an interest in saving her child. She had always wanted Akwasi for herself — if Tolo was right and Nanny would insist upon a marriage between Nora and Akwasi, then she had ultimately lost. But one look at Máanu’s face made it clear to Nora that her former maid didn’t care. She wanted to hurt Nora at any price. Even if that price was her own happiness.
“You will not kill my child!” Akwasi burst out. “I will not let that happen!”
