by Sarah Lark
In fact, Máanu’s wounds healed without complications — which was undoubtedly helped by the fact that Akwasi left his new wife in peace for the next few days and returned to Nora. He also took her as a wife — although with less extensive ceremonies as with Máanu. Granny Nanny called the blessings of a few gods and spirits down to the couple and told the village that Nora was no longer a slave.
Her position among the women improved immediately. The unmarried women stopped tormenting her, while the adult women somewhat reluctantly, but without an ordeal, accepted her into their group. Nora mostly worked somewhat apart from them, but she no longer had to take on the most difficult tasks, mainly because her pregnancy had become visible. The fact that the women didn’t talk to her didn’t matter, since she had Mansah, who also felt just as uncomfortable among the women. Lately, the child had even been sleeping in her house — with Máanu and Akwasi’s blessings. Both assumed that Nora would make no attempt to harm the child in her body, or do something else to herself while in Mansah’s presence. She was not only monitored by the other women during the day, but was also under watch at night when Akwasi visited Máanu. He went there every night once Máanu had recovered — he was clearly doing his best to have another child — and this time one that was pureblooded.
Nora accepted it all with indifference. She had long come to terms with her pregnancy and thanked heaven for Akwasi’s ignorance toward her. Máanu might be happy with him. Nora wished them both the best — she just wanted to be left alone. In contrast, she did enjoy Mansah’s company. The girl was finally learning to speak English in the correct way and, to her own great confusion, also how to read and write.
“Everyone can really do it, Missis? One doesn’t need the blessing of the gods?”
And then, when Nora was just a few weeks away from delivery, her relationship to the other women changed, or at least with some of them. She had recently been using her frequent free time to grow a herb garden. Mansah eagerly helped, as she was far more interested in the art of healing than her sister. Since the girl was able to move through the settlement freely, she always asked the passing white traders about seeds, and soon, Nora could send her to look for useful plants and roots outside of the settlement.
Parsley, chamomile, sage, and lady’s mantle grew around her hut. Much more than she would need for herself and Mansah. Nora longed for her work with the sick and could hardly hold back when she overheard a conversation between two Maroon women one afternoon. One of them complained about heavy blood flow and cramps during her menstrual periods.
“Should I go to Tolo?” she aked her friend. “But way is so far.”
“And Nanny?” the other woman replied.
The first one rolled her eyes. “Nanny says is not bad. Wait, goes away again. But Nanny strong woman, queen. I just little Maroon, not so brave.”
Nora sighed. All of this confirmed the notion that Nanny didn’t know all that much about healing. From what people heard, she was very young when she had been stolen in Africa. Even if her mother had been a great shaman, she still couldn’t have taught her that much and, in all the years, Nanny had surely forgotten a lot.
Nora reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of herbs. She always had it ready for Mansah, who had been a woman for three months and also suffered from severe cramps. Nora used to make her an infusion when she was overcome by it while working — she tried to keep the other women from noticing that Mansah had already bled. Because no matter what Nanny said, Akwasi and Máanu could insist on Máanu’s sister’s compliance with the customs of the Dogon.
“Here,” she said to the women that she knew of as Maria. It was an uncommon name for a slave, but Nora had heard that the Maroons who were free blacks from birth often had Spanish names. “Brew these herbs and let them steep for ten minutes. Drink three cups of that a day. It will help you.”
Maria examined the dried herbs suspiciously. “But you don’t want to poison me, do you, white woman?”
Without a word, Nora started a fire, even though the women were moaning about the additional warmth in the midday heat. She heated water, put the herbs in, let them steep for a while, and then took a few sips herself. Mansah also drank the concoction, though she shuddered as she did it.
“It’s horribly bitter, but it works well,” Nora explained, filling another cup for Maria. She made a face when she reluctantly drank the tea, but after a short while, her face relaxed and she smiled at Nora in disbelief.
“It stopped!” she said in amazement. “It worked! What do you want for herbs, white woman? Tolo want sack of grain or egg.”
Nora shook her head. “Nothing; I have enough grain and chicken,” she said.
There were three hens among Nanny’s wedding presents — the queen had given equal gifts to Akwasi’s two wives.
“But I … well, I would really like it if you could stop calling me white missis or white woman. Even the English have names.” Nora blushed, and scolded herself for it. “Mine is Nora.”
Maria did not remain Nora’s only patient. In the next few days, Maroon women came to her again and again with small problems, and nearly all of them were free blacks from birth. The freed slaves were suspicious of a white healer and Nora couldn’t blame them. These people must have hated everything that even remotely reminded them of their times on the plantations. The real Maroons, in contrast, didn’t object to the whites on principle. Prior to Nora’s abduction, they had never met a white woman and, now that the ice had been broken, they seemed more curious than hostile. Many of them would have gladly adapted to the lifestyle of the English in Kingston and Montego Bay, rather than trying to emulate the African lifestyle like Nanny and most of the freed slaves. They were shocked by some of the queen’s decisions, such as permitting Akwasi to marry two women. Some of them were Christians or adhered to Obeah variations with a strong Christian influence. Nora was not all surprised that Tolo had formerly been their Obeah woman.
“We still sometimes do ceremony,” Maria finally confessed to her new friend. “But Nanny don’t like to see it in town, and in woods we are afraid at night. Nanny says is better if queen is Obeah woman. Whith Ashanti is usual way.” Ashanti women seemed to generally enjoy a lot of freedom. Nora was amazed when she had heard that women in their tribe had almost the same rights as men, and that they even fought in battles when their villages were threatened.
“We always had to shout and throw stones when English come,” Maria also reported. “Then the men would make us hide, but now strong town, impregnable!”
Everyone in Nanny Town knew this difficult word — and Nora’s heart always sank when she heard it. It was also not very likely that within the settlement there would be uprisings or changes of power. The original Maroons were certainly not in agreement with all of Queen Nanny and her siblings’ decisions, but they knew to appreciate that the leaders had united the free blacks and had made many powerful connections. Before the Ashanti siblings had come along, everyone had lived in smaller groups and roamed around a lot. Generally speaking, Maria and the others liked the unity of their new lifestyle.
“But Nanny doesn’t make us slaves,” Maria softened up a bit after having complained about the fact that she didn’t like the Ashanti chants and that she couldn’t even get started on Nanny’s worship of the god Onyame. “If Tolo make ceremony in the woods, not forbidden, and if we pray to Baby Jesus, not forbidden, and also not whatever the Muslims do.”
None of them actually knew what the Muslims exactly did. The small group of former slaves, most of whom were from the tribes of Mandingo, remained quite closed off from the others and held their own services. To Maria’s happiness, they did not need any chickens — the young woman was in charge of the shared chicken coops. Their women did not particularly stand out, except that they did not participate in the chatter of the Maroon women about the nightly performances of their husbands on the sleeping mat.
But they were accustomed to praying five times a day and hiding their hair
under artfully wound scarves. Nanny put up with the three or four families and the five or six men living alone that had held onto their faith from Africa, despite the mandatory services on the plantation and the temptations of the lively Obeah meetings. She particularly appreciated that the men never drank — they were stationed in the furthest guard posts, since there was no danger that they would secretly manufacture beer or even liquor and then possibly sleep through an attack from the whites.
Nora’s new companions felt sorry for her thankless existence as Akwasi’s second wife, but Nora herself had managed to find a sense of contentment. Things were much better now than when she had first arrived in Nanny Town. She even began to look forward to the birth of her child. Apparently, neither Nora’s lack of nutrition at the start of her pregnancy nor Akwasi’s punch to her stomach had hurt it — and Nora was also not afraid that the child would grow up alone. Maria and the other Maroon women all had children and would surely let them play with Nora’s son — or with her daughter, although Akwasi considered that unthinkable. He did not seem to expect female offspring, yet another testament to Tolo’s assertion that he thought and felt more like a white man than an Ashanti. After all, to the Ashanti, a woman was valued almost as much as a man. And regardless, Akwasi had two irons in the fire, as Tolo had noticed with a grin when she was once visiting. A few months after the wedding, Máanu had also become pregnant and would proudly stretch out her still almost-flat stomach, as if she had achieved something that no woman had ever managed before.
“Will you come when my child is born?” Nora asked the old Obeah woman nervously, as she made her way back to her exile in the jungle.
Tolo shook her head. “No, the child will have already been born by the time I can be here. You are healthy and strong, you will be fine. And Nanny will help …”
Nanny had been no great help to Pretty, Nora thought bitterly. She hoped that at least Maria and her new Maroon confidants, Elena and Sophia, would stay with her. They all had children and would hopefully recognize complications in time to send Mansah to Tolo.
In fact, everything went smoothly. Nora labored a long time; she was narrowly built and it took time until the birth canal had sufficiently widened. But the child was petite and positioned properly. For twelve painful, but not entirely unbearable, hours, Maria, Elena, and Sophia took care of Nora while Mansah sat in the corner, sobbing. And then a small, red-faced girl with black hair and light-brown skin slid into Granny Nanny’s hands.
“Welcome to the world. May the blessings of Onyame and all of the spirits of heaven and earth accompany you!” the queen welcomed her lovingly, wiped her off, and laid her in Nora’s arms. “Such a beautiful child, white woman. May she be strong like her father and beautiful like her mother.”
Nora knew that the Ashanti were of the opinion that the father gave the child his spirit and strength, and the mother the flesh. The latter was more important and so the children belonged more to the mother’s family than the father’s. Even royalty was inherited through the female line.
As expected, Akwasi did not seem particularly enthusiastic, but he dutifully accepted his daughter, carried her out of the hut, and held her up to the stars.
“She will be called Dede,” he announced, “after my mother.”
Nora accepted it without comment, but christened the child the next day with the name Deirdre — and her friends with the closest ties to Christianity actively took part. “Surely brings luck!” Maria said happily and kissed the baby. The women in Nanny Town were very loving with the children.
Nora felt lucky that neither Akwasi nor Máanu showed any inclination of wanting to take the child away from her. She was afraid, since it was common practice on plantations to take the black womens’ babies away. It would have suited Máanu’s hateful vendetta. But Akwasi had probably lost interest when Nora brought a girl into the world, and Máanu was busy enough with her own child on the way. She assured Akwasi that she would give him the son he wanted.
“It will be a large child,” Nora prophesized to the proud Máanu when she was finishing up her obligatory visit with her and Dede. The young black woman was beautiful in her colorful African robes that she now almost always wore — they were much more comfortable during the pregnancy than the clothing of the whites. Máanu was still very lean and maintained a regally stiff posture. Her hair and skin shone and her stomach now bulged out far in front of her, even though she still had three months before the baby’s birth. “But not an easy birth,” Nora added. “You should ask Nanny to get Tolo in time. Especially since you—” She blushed.
“The circumcision doesn’t affect the birth at all,” Máanu said, angrily. “Tolo has assured me of it. Nanny will assist me and with her all the spirits of the Ashanti and the Dogon.”
“I was not referring so much to the circumcision.” Nora found it difficult to address the matter, but she kept thinking of Sally, and she remembered Tolo’s comment at Máanu’s circumcision: she has conceived children … So, Máanu had had miscarriages, even if she hadn’t bled to death. But she certainly had the scars. “You should at least ask Tolo to look at you before the birth. The spirits … well, they can surely be helpful, but in general … You used to understand this.” Nora thought about Máanu’s cynical remarks about faith, prayer, and God.
“I will give birth to Akwasi’s son with the help of the queen,” Máanu said, commandingly. “And you will not scare me, white Missis. I am strong.”
Nora said nothing more about it.
Nora’s daughter was an utter delight. Her striking blue eyes elicited curiosity, amazement, and fear from all of the women. Most of the women in Nanny Town had never seen a light-eyed baby before, and some of the tribes considered such a thing to be a bad omen.
“Nonsense!” Tolo laughed and dismissed the rumor that a demon might have been born there with a hand gesture. “Of course it is bad when a black woman gives birth to a white child. This happens, and it has either blue or even red eyes, very scary. And usually it doesn’t live long. But with your little girl, it’s entirely normal. She will look beautiful when she is older.”
“They could even turn green,” Nora said to avoid further rumors about the ghostly discoloring of the baby’s eyes. “I had blue eyes until I was a few months old. They say that all white children are born with blue eyes.”
Tolo nodded. “Your Dede is beautiful and completely normal — and it’s good that she is a girl. A mixed child never has it easy, but a beautiful girl always has it easier than an ugly one, and every mixed girl has it easier than a mixed boy.
Akwasi had begun to grace Nora with his presence again. After all, Máanu was very pregnant, while Nora had recovered from the birth of her daughter and was more beautiful than ever before. Her body had grown accustomed to a life with more sun and more work and, since she was no longer tormented and forced to do the hardest jobs, it even did her some good. Nora had always been lean and sinewy, but she had taken on a more womanly shape after the birth. She was also nursing, so her breasts were full and firm. The constant sun had given her skin a golden-brown tone that was complimented by the colorful cloths that she wore around her light hair like the African women. Akwasi was aroused by the sight of her again, and his anger at Nora and Doug slowly faded away. She had betrayed him, but he had avenged himself — and now she was his completely. She had borne his child.
Akwasi started to be a little more gentle with Nora, though he still clung to the idea that a virtuous woman should not enjoy lovemaking. He spoke kindly to her and no longer hit her. Nevertheless, Nora hated and dreaded the nights that he visited her. She was determined not to bear another one of his children, no matter how much she loved Dede. A vial from Tolo always sat discreetly between her home-brewed potions and ointments. At the slightest sign of pregnancy, she would make use of it.
On one particular day, Nora pushed Akwasi away as he was just about to enter her, when she heard knocking and sobbing at the door. She always struggled, and he was accustomed
to ignoring it, and did so now.
“Stop, Akwasi!” Nora fought with all of her strength, but tried not to make too much noise and wake up Dede. Fortunately, the child was a sound sleeper. “You can hear, can’t you? There’s someone and it sounds like Mansah. What is happening with Máanu? She will soon have to deliver her child. Maybe—” She pushed herself up and quickly wrapped herself in a cloth when Akwasi unwillingly rolled off of her. Then she hurried to the door.
As expected, Mansah was leaning against the wall next to the entrance and crying.
“You have to come, Missis. Máanu … Máanu is having her child.
Nora pulled the girl inside.
“That’s wonderful news, Mansah,” she said, reassuringly. “Have you already called for Nanny? She wanted to assist her.”
“Nanny has been with her for hours. She says everything is normal, but baby will not come. Máanu is screaming horribly—”
“It just seems that way to you, Mansah,” Nora said, comfortingly. “Look, I also screamed and you were scared, but then Dede was there and everything was fine.”
“But this baby isn’t coming, Missis. Nanny says it might be too big. It doesn’t fit … it doesn’t fit through—” Mansah’s voice was hoarse with fear. “And Máanu is bleeding badly.”
Nora sighed. She had feared something similar. However, there wasn’t much more she could do than Nanny. She was not a midwife and too few children had been born at Cascarilla Gardens. What she really understood was how to stop the bleeding after abortions. If the baby were born, she might possibly be able to help Máanu, but now …
“Come, Missis, please!”
