Cambridge

by Caryl Phillips

  Now I was manifestly a West Indian slave, but I refused to accept the woeful conclusion that there was little hope of manumission through either the generosity of Mr Wilson, or the evidence of my good deeds. The execrable years bred quickly but never, not for one moment, did I lose faith in the redeeming powers of the Good Lord. My hair took on a grey aspect, and my strength began to fade, yet all the while I remained true to my Lord and hoped one day to be afforded the privilege of preaching again in dear England on the subject of my travels and experiences as a son of God. Sadly, as she budded into womanhood, my strange escort became even more unpopular amongst her fellow-slaves. Her curious mind remained closed, and she seemed incapable of conversing with anybody beyond myself. I talked with her of our Lord, and attempted to explain that Jesus Christ had lain down his life for such as us, but her undeniably spiritual nature was absorbed in an entirely different direction.

  The other slaves claimed her to be a possessor of the skills of obeah, but I refused to be drawn into their discussions. I recognized in her a growing aberrance and mind-wandering detachment, yet the loneliness that this ailment necessarily bestows upon its victims may have contributed to the powerfully sympathetic affection that I continued to feel towards her. Perhaps we were a case of curiosity attracting curiosity, for the respect which I commanded on account of my Christian learning and knowledge of the world was matched only by the caution with which every person viewed my woman friend. After a slow and wilfully paced courtship that lasted many West Indian seasons, I, Cambridge the field-hand, requested that the woman occupy my hut as my wife. Without uttering a word she willingly agreed, for she was now entering a period of her malady when she insisted that she distrusted words. And so we began to share our lives in my hut, and I watched and cherished her, all the while praying that the infusion of Christian values into her soul might help to obscure the miserable details of her life, which others claimed had resulted in her being blessed with this excess of pagan vision.

  Years of drudgery lumbered by, and I wondered if I should ever be set free from this unChristian labour. Indeed, I worried that perhaps my God was punishing me for my sinful existence, even though He must have known that should I have requested a Christian wedding ceremony it would have certainly been denied. I had raised the question of my fellow slaves' continued adherence to crude African religions with our local man of the cloth, Mr Rogers. The minister, whilst openly acknowledging the correctness of my concerns, sought even as he spoke to a black Christian to introduce me to the notion that converted negroes soon became perverse and intractable. He further maintained that conversion was an inadequate tool with which to combat the perpetual absence of the Christian virtues of family life, morality and social discipline that he frequently found in 'the black stock'. Not unnaturally, I felt inclined to ask after him what he therefore imagined his role to be while he existed in this West Indian region, but I desisted, feeling pity and revulsion for this man who would attempt to build a false notion that all of a black skin are tainted with Cain's crime, or that of Noah's son, Ham. This weak man, who without doing a stroke of God's work simply coughed and perspired abnormally in the tropical heat, confirmed my long-held suspicion that many covetous and profligate individuals are often admitted to the clergy. The blocking up of all the inlets to the spiritual regeneration of the negro seemed his sole and devilish task. That such a man might condescend to marry a pair of negroes after the Christian manner was optimism beyond all reason.

  One night, on hearing some distant commotion, my wife awoke with a start. It was not until the clear light of day that I discovered that the veteran Mr Wilson had been driven off our estate by his overseer, Mr Brown. Mr Wilson had proved himself a tolerably decent man and I, in common with many others, was sorry to see his demise. Doubly so in that he was replaced by Mr Brown, a bullying brute of an overseer who seemed trapped within the imagined swaggering authority of his own skin. His first act was to attempt to reorganize the status among the slaves to suit his own purpose. To this end it was suggested that I accept the title of Head Driver. Not wishing to be master to any, I declined, and so began the period of conflict between myself and this Mr Brown. He could not accept my disobedience. Although no words passed through his lips, it was clear that he had determined to reduce the haughty Cambridge, who by now had long revealed to all a firmer grasp of the English language than any, including Mr Brown, might ever conceive of achieving. I had also, much to this Mr Brown's chagrin, gained the true respect of my fellow-toilers, who affectionately styled me the black Christian.

  Life continued without reference to the calendar, until one evening Mr Brown appeared at my hut after dark. His breath was contaminated with liquor and his person evidently consumed with passion. That my poor wife was the object of his frothful desire I had no doubt, but I decided that he should not satisfy himself upon her like an animal. As though reading my mind, Mr Brown drew his pistol and ordered me to leave my own hut. The pitiful pleading of my unsound wife, who saw that Mr Brown was truly determined to kill me if necessary, encouraged me to leave. Her distress attracted the attention of my fellow-slaves, who stood in the darkness as though this humiliation was something that we ought to endure as a company. Their hidden purpose was clear, for they wished to ensure that I should not decide upon any action, self-destructive or otherwise.

  It appeared that my wife, in one of her not uncommon flights of fantasy, had recently taken to conducting herself as though the mistress of the Great House. The fearful house-servants were unable to sway her from her queer purpose, and there abounded in the Great House a state of anarchy. However, although my wife's pantomime had been in operation for some weeks, the principal cause of this destructive disorder was not her unseemly behaviour, but Mr Brown's inexplicable toleration of this charade. His patience extended as far as allowing her to share his table. Perhaps he looked upon my comely wife as a visual entertainment, in the same manner that some Englishmen keep about them dwarfs or pet monkeys? Or was he lonely? Or was he simply humouring her in anticipation of this moment when he might punish both my wife and myself with one act of brutal desire? I prayed to the good Lord to release my poor simple wife, who, although not my wedded wife in his eyes, meant as much to me as any who might occupy that station. And men my God answered me as a sated Mr Brown reappeared, seemingly unconcerned by the suffering he had inflicted, and oblivious of the gathering of slaves, all of whom viewed this man as a disgrace to his own people and their civilization. The next day Mr Brown found weak pretext to inflict upon me a severe beating in the presence of an English female. Whether this was some customary ritual to ensure easier access next time he should choose to visit my wife, or due punishment for the defiance I had chosen not to hide, I could not tell. But upon my back, in a series of random patterns, were markings that cut deep into my flesh. After Mr Brown's violation the bond between my wife and I, although still intact, began to be tried beyond its strength. The woman steadfastly refused to adopt the Christian religion, which continued to cause some unpleasant friction between us, but to my horror she now reverted to dirt-eating and other abominations. I traced this filthy behaviour to a sickness brought on by Mr Brown's hunger, although this by no means justified such paganism. For his part, Mr Brown continued to trifle with her reason by tolerating her fanciful delusions as she continued to sport herself as the mistress. It was, however, the arrival of the English female that seemed to pitch my wife into her final and irrevocable madness. This Englishwoman, the daughter of our true owner, appeared amongst us, and after an extended convalescence she entered fully into our miserable society. On the rare evenings when my wife paid me the compliment of returning to my hut, she began now openly to mock at my Christian beliefs and to scream out for her long-lost mother. This caused my heart to swell with bow sorrow and anger, for, as is well known, a Christian man possesses his wife, and the dutiful wife must obey her Christian husband. Accordingly, at the conclusion of the week's labour, I decided to seek an audience with Mr Brow
n at which I intended to instruct him to cease indulging my wife's behaviour, and to offer him the opportunity of cleansing his heathen conscience and confessing his role in her recent sad demise.

  On a bright Sunday afternoon, when the white people had returned from church, I presented myself beneath the piazza where Mr Brown was taking tea with the Englishwoman, in whom he appeared to have developed an intimate interest. Clearly he knew the subject and object of my visit, but giving me no time to state my purpose he barked rudely that I had no place petitioning him – this ungodly man! – on the Sabbath, and he declared that I should remove myself immediately. I hesitated, and then began to speak, whereupon Mr Brown climbed to his feet and, turning a murderous vermilion, bellowed that I should immediately absent myself. On receiving this instruction I turned and left. I returned to the negro village and sought out my wife, who was occupying herself by singing meaningless ditties. I knew now that her mind would stray more frequently into zones of illogicality, for not only would Mr Brown continue to torment her, but her abuses were now compounded by feelings of jealousy. I knew also that come the morning I might reasonably expect to be flogged for my impertinence.

  To my surprise Mr Brown, while eyeing me unmercifully, chose not to lash me. This was fortuitous for us both, for I had resolved to no longer endure his abuse if applied in the only manner he seemed to understand, in other words, unjustly. I had decided that I would resist, without turning my mind to a heroic mission, for my knowledge of the Bible instructed me that it is man's duty, with God's blessing, to outwit tyranny in whatever form it appears. My battle with this Mr Brown was now couched in terms of a holy crusade which, with the Lord's help, I was determined to wage with all the energy and skill known to me. The Englishwoman did not concern me. She seemed decent, if a trifle over-dressed for the heat, and she adopted a not altogether unsurprising posture of social superiority driven home by the alabaster in her complexion. Seldom without handkerchief to ward off the fetid air, she graced us with a detachment that bordered on thinly disguised disgust. That I might have conversed with her at ease, perhaps even discussed acquaintances in common, undoubtedly never occurred to her. However, Mr Brown's obsession with this woman, and his lack of attention to my wife, caused my wife further to enter that region of the mind whence all attempts to retrieve her are rendered futile.

  Mr Brown frequently made it his business to travel to distant plantations and remain there, sometimes for many days. It was while he was engaged upon one of these journeys that I was called by Stella, the attendant to the white lady, to hurry to the Great House. It appeared that my wife had finally done mischief enough to render her presence offensive to all, black and white. Howling in her bizarre manner, scratching at the dirt, and picking lice from her skin, my wife's mind was no longer her own. Labouring under the full weight of public humiliation, and feeling dreadfully spurned, she now considered herself little more than a common animal, and she was acting accordingly. I mounted a guard at the door of the woman, Emily. She was white with fear that my wife might enter and cause her harm. I assured the fair one that she had nothing to fear, and enquired if she were a Christian believer, to which she answered that she was. I asked from which part of fair Albion she originated, and if her father approved of the institution of slavery, to which she replied that she imagined he did, but her attitudes were her own and somewhat different. She declined to share them with me, but seemed truly fascinated by my knowledge and fluency in her language, the origins of which I, in turn, declined to share with her. Then our conversation was terminated by the arrival of the doctor, who delivered me a gaze of such contempt that I was obliged to turn from him lest I provoke his humour to an undignified pitch. Stella brought me refreshment, and suggested that I might order my wife to cease her noise. This I did, my voice charged with anger. I then departed for my hut.

  Clearly my wife was beyond my full jurisdiction. After a great number of sleepless nights, in which I asked God not to abandon me in my distress, nor cast me from His mercy for ever, my weak constitution could no longer withstand my shameful torment. The Lord had hitherto shadowed me with the wings of His mercy, and I had great hope that He might appear again for my deliverance. To this end I arose and set out to walk the full distance to Baytown, all the while reflecting upon my eternal state, and determined, before it was too late, to refresh my bond with the Lord with powerful purpose of heart. It was while praying in the Ebeneezer Chapel that I finally, with the aid of my merciful redeemer, devised a Christian plan. It was evident that Mr Brown was both the object of my anger, and the cause of my wife's present misery. I would visit him, irrespective of his wrath, and talk to him as one man to another. Upon representing myself I would no longer be swayed from my purposes by either his clamouring voice or his raised fists. That he must cease his tormenting of my wife would be the main thrust of my message. I knew full well that a Christian man must fear nothing but the Lord Himself. As I tarried on my knees I felt sure of my purpose. I was determined to carry out my scheme, and then make every exertion to obtain my freedom and return to dear England. In this frame of mind I left the Chapel and began the long walk back to the Great House.

  Once there I presented myself in the kitchen, where I informed Stella that I was hungry. She chose to supply me with beef and bread. She was visibly distressed by my troubled countenance, but I imagined her to be somewhat reassured by the signs of my continued moral strength. As I left the Great House a young white overseer challenged me to explain why I was not present in the fields. I informed him of my need for spiritual counsel at this cross-roads of my life, and he scoffed. I then marched purposefully to my hut to study my Bible. I soon discovered that, as ever, my wayward wife was not present. However, I turned my mind towards the Lord and prayed for her pagan soul. Later this same day, my body and spirit being refreshed, and my hunger satisfied, I was preparing to take an evening promenade when Mr Brown entered my hut and accosted me. He knocked the holy book from my hand and proceeded to beat me most savagely. He then demanded that I parade myself before him on this same evening, and until then to refrain from contaminating his other slaves with my insolent presence.

  I remained in my hut. In the evening I attended upon the hearing where, among other crimes, I was accused of stealing food! Judgement upon my case was postponed, and I was confined to the slave village. For many weeks I supplicated myself in isolated meditation. My loneliness and humiliation without my wife (who had resorted to the new ploy of running clear away), the injustice of my treatment, and the Christian import of the season, all served to strengthen my resolve once again to challenge this Mr Brown. I made my way to the Great House and enquired after Stella for his whereabouts. A tearful Stella (for it appeared that Mr Brown had taken no interest in her beloved Miss Emily once the details of the latter's condition had been discovered by the physician) informed me that on this festive day the unloved Mr Brown would soon be returning from church.

  I went out on the road, and as I saw his bay mare approach I called to Mr Brown and made note of the anger in his eyes. He dismounted and walked towards me with whip raised, but I had steeled myself to endure no further abuse. In a simple and Christian manner I was merely requesting that he behave towards myself and my wife with a decency that one would have afforded a dog. He struck me once with his crop, and I took it from him, and in the resultant struggle the life left his body. I then fell to my knees and prayed to my God to forgive me for my wretched condition. I, Olumide, who had become black Tom, then David Henderson, and now Cambridge, had broken one of God's commandments. On this Christian day, and for the first time since my second unChristian passage, I was truly afraid, truly frightened of my actions and the fearful consequences of my heathen behaviour.

  I say again: Pardon the liberty I take in unburdening myself with these hasty lines, but the truth as it is understood by David Henderson (known as Cambridge) is all that I have sought to convey. Praise be the Lord! He who 'hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell
on all the face of the earth'.

  III

  'In the year 18__, another murder was committed, the details of which are as follows: – A person by the name of Brown was living as an overseer upon an estate called _______, now in the possession of Messrs _______ and _______ The negroes on this property had been for a long time in the habit of pilfering, and in many instances Mr Brown had discovered the pilferers (offenders), which caused him to be disliked, and determined one among them, more heartless, perhaps, than the rest, to undertake his destruction. On Christmas day, the Christian Mr Brown rode to church at _______, and upon his return in the evening, between the hours of six and seven, he met with his untimely death.

  The mature slave to whom Mr Brown had rendered himself particularly obnoxious was named Cambridge, and this insane man had long lain in wait for an opportunity of completing his crime, and for the purpose had sharpened an old copper skimmer (used in boiling sugar), which he thought would prove an effective weapon.

  Mr Brown, like many other white men in this island, carried on an innocent amour with a woman belonging to the property, named Christiania, and it was the first intention of Cambridge to murder her as well as the overseer. It appeared that this Cambridge had for many years held the poor Christiania in bondage, his mind destroyed by fanciful notions of a Christian life of moral and domestic responsibility which he, in common with his fellow slaves, was congenitally unsuited to. When the unfortunate Christiania would not submit to his thraldom, Cambridge cruelly cast her from his hut and vowed that he would one day seek revenge for her disloyalty.