by Alex Wheatle
“But yuh cyan’t jus’ go jus’ like dat,” Kwarhterleg argued. “Who gwarn to tek over de plot ah land when ya fader bones get too creaky? Yuh t’ink about dat, David?”
“Who ah say me gone fe ever?” David asked calmly. “When me see wha’ me waan see an’ when me experience de mighty t’ings dat de world affe offer me, den me come back. Me will come back an’ work me fader land ’til me laid to rest. Me swear to de Most High dat dis true. But right about now, me affe go, becah de itch inna me foot cyan’t be scratched.”
Seeing that his son hadn’t troubled his beer, Joseph asked the barman for two more. He passed one on to Kwarhterleg. Joseph’s bottle was three-quarters empty before he spoke again. “David, me give yuh me blessing fe ya journey in dis life but me waan yuh to promise me somet’ing.”
“Anyt’ing yuh ask, Papa,” David replied, now drinking his beer.
“Nuh tell ya mama ’til marnin come. Let her and ya two sister enjoy harvest day widout ya mad news. Tell dem inna de marnin.”
“Nuh trouble ya head, Papa. Me will tell everyone inna de marnin. Me don’t waan to spoil dem day.”
Kwarhterleg shook his head, sure that Amy would not be so understanding of David’s calling. And Hortense? It could prove a sore loss for her.
As the last golden rays of the sun dipped below the western ranges, the fires of harvest night lit every beacon, crook, hillside and dwelling throughout Claremont and districts beyond. Songs of praise filled the valley and Mr Welton DaCosta had even hired a mento band to entertain his family and guests on his plot of land, the musicians equipped with improvised banjo instruments and quick-witted lyrics of country life and rural proverbs.
“Nuh tease alligator before yuh cross de river
Put ah cross before ya door an’ Old Screwface cyan’t mek yuh shiver
Heed dese warnings or yuh end up like Old Mama Jeebah
She live inna de wood ah work ’pon spells she deliver
Mama Jeebah is older dan de spine of Jamaica
She even know de old pirate Captain Morgan an’ where him hide him treasure
She was once ah good girl very kind to her mudder
Her fader run away from him brutal slave master
She used to speak wid de same tongue as her African ancestor
Some say her family come from de Gold Coast or it coulda be Ghana
But one day she skip church go ah forest full of wonder
Nuh even de Maroons or Anancy would step der inna adventure
Old Screwface set up him net an’ he did ah ketch her
She lost her soul an’ not’ing she cyan remember
Now her back is bent like de mountain der ah far off yonder
Her face so full of wart, more dan de feaders ’pon ah rooster
Her nose is so long dat John-crow coulda perch, res’ him wing an’ loiter
Now she work ’pon spell to ketch anoder good sister
So children beware yuh nuh stray an’ sight Old Mama Jeebah
Fe yuh could be roastin’ ’pon ah spit ah Old Screwface fire.”
Armed with two bottles of rum, Joseph and his family had ambled over to Neville’s bonfire, which was fifty yards away from the patriarch’s home. They had left Kwarhterleg who had complained of a sore throat but Joseph knew he had drank too much warm beer in the afternoon.
They were accompanied by their neighbours, Miss Panchita, who was carrying her baby in a brace upon her back, and her husband Matthew. About forty-five adults were ringed around the fire, plus twenty or so excited children running here and there, most of them related to Neville in some way.
Food was already being served and Hortense and Jenny enjoyed their starter of ‘star-apples’. This was followed by curried goat and rice, roasted snapper fish, ardough bread, all the fried dumplings they could eat, and, if there was any space left in their stomachs, a whole range of ripe fruits. Rum was flowing, loosening tongues and prompting courting couples to steal kisses. Elders paraphrased Biblical tales, adding their own spin and extravagances for dramatic effect and those who won the silent attention of the audience were rewarded with coins and rum toasts.
Neville, the heart and soul of the party, looked upon his oldest grandson, David, with watering, red eyes. He burped rather loudly. “David! Nuh girl ah Claremont ah tickle ya fancy? Yuh is ah mighty fine looking young mon! Come tell me, David. Which fine Christian girl yuh ’ave ya eye ’pon? An’ don’t worry about wha’ ya mama an’ papa might say becah ya gran’papa is asking yuh. Now tell me, David. Why me don’t see yuh wid ah nice girl to embrace dis fine night? Me don’t waan to dead before yuh present me wid many great-gran’sons. Ah mon’s wealth is calculated by de amount of great-granson’s him seed produce. Don’t yuh know dat?”
Hoots of laughter filled the red-night air. David, mortally embarrassed, struggled to find words. Joseph flashed him a fretful eye pass. Teenage girls feasted their eyes upon David’s handsome looks with relish, praying they wouldn’t be childless by the time they reached eighteen and branded a mule by their peers; most of their male counterparts had left Claremont so they felt David was a prize catch.
“Gran’papa!” David finally answered. “Yuh know me well busy working me fader plot. Me don’t ’ave any time to court nice girl. An’ anyway, de girl who live ah Claremont dem so nice an’ sweet dat ah mon like me don’t really know how to choose! Mon, wha’ ah cruel tribulation fe ah humble young mon!”
David’s courteous response was met with cheers, wolf whistles, claps and a clinking of rum bottles. Joseph smiled, realising his only son would handle himself well in the wide world. Yes, sa, he thought. David well ably wid him tongue.
Three hours later Amy roused her husband from his dozing. Joseph forced open his heavy lids and in his blurred vision, saw that many of Neville’s male friends were laying horizontal amid the empty rum bottles upon the ground. The fire was flickering into death here and there. Women were taking their children home. Courting couples had already stolen away to the woods. Those who lived in warped wooden huts and had no land to till, carried away the left-over food. They didn’t have to ask for it.
“Joseph! Joseph!” Amy called. “Wake up now mon! Yuh been too licky licky tonight wid de fire-water! Come mon. Yuh affe carry Hortense home.”
Joseph focused his eyes. He saw Hortense blissfully asleep on the ground, her head resting upon a hacked-off branch. Joseph went to pick her up, slinging her over his shoulder. “Where Jenny der ya?” he asked.
Amy looked around. Under the leaves of Neville’s avocado tree, using the light of the kerosene lamp that was hooked on the side of the house, Amy’s mother, Melody, seated on a stool and using her hands to express herself, was telling African Anancy stories to seven captivated children. Jenny was one of them. “…An’ Anancy was well crafty an’ from ah spider, turn himself into ah long-belly goat but he was still speaking to de terrified white mon inna African tongue. De white mon ah scream an’ scream ’til he could nah scream nuh more…”
“Jenny!” called Amy. “Come chile. Time fe bed.”
“But Mama. Gran’mama nuh finish her story yet!”
“Jenny! Nuh let me come up der an’ tan ya backside.”
“Tan me backside? Papa never tan me backside yet so why yuh waan tan me backside, Mama?”
“Don’t get wise! Come, chile!”
Melody kissed Jenny upon the forehead, stroked her head and said, “gwarn to ya mudder, chile. Me don’t waan Man-tongue fussing to me inna de marnin becah me waan to preserve me ears. Nex’ time yuh come me will tell yuh de res’ ah de story. Goodnight an’ don’t let nuh bugaboo bite.”
Skipping to join her family, Jenny was perturbed to see her father carrying Hortense. She was soon filled with a burning jealousy, sulking behind her parents, dragging her heels. She looked up occasionally, firing a fierce stare into Hortense’s back.
“Wha’ happen to David?” Joseph asked, looking about him. “Him gone to anoder fire? Mebbe to Misser DaCosta plot?”
&nb
sp; “Yes,” Amy replied, not revealing that David had simply vanished into the night and hadn’t informed anyone where he was going. “Me sure him gone ah Misser DaCosta. Him mus’ waan to hear de mento band dat ah play up der.”
For a few seconds, Joseph doubted this news but he soon reassured himself that David wouldn’t shy away from bidding farewell to his mother and sisters.
“Ooowww, me leg,” Jenny howled in pain. “Me leg, Papa. Blood ah run!”
Joseph and Amy turned around and saw Jenny lying on the ground, blood trickling from a gash in her knee. “Me cyan’t walk, Papa,” Jenny cried. “Me walkin’ an’ me stumble.”
Joseph roused Hortense. “Come, Hortense, wake up. Yuh affe walk. Ya sister hurt her leg.”
Joseph helped her down to the ground. Hortense, focusing her sleepy eyes, shot a look of utter scorn at her sister before reluctantly holding her mother’s proffered hand. Joseph picked up Jenny, kissed her on the cheek and set off once more. Jenny sobbed all the way home.
“Papa, Jenny ah bawl crocodile tears!” shouted Hortense. “She mus’ ah pain her leg by herself. Lie she ah lie. Don’t trust her, Papa! Jenny crafty like Anancy when she ready. Yuh don’t see de red glow inna her eye?”
“Now, Hortense,” said Joseph. “Why woulda Jenny mek blood run from her own leg? Nex’ time me promise me will carry yuh wherever yuh waan go.”
“Nex’ time me will nuh boder ask yuh, Papa,” Hortense sulked. “David will carry me. Me don’t even ’ave to ask him. He’s me true papa!”
“Hortense!” Amy rebuked. “Quiet ya mout’ or me will stick ah jackfruit inna it!”
Joseph felt an ignition of guilt burning his conscience and decided to ignore Hortense’s accusing eyes.
When they finally reached home, Hortense kicked Jenny’s supposedly injured leg. “Now yuh cyan bawl fe real,” snapped Hortense, rage in her expression. “Yuh dutty liar. Jezebel yuh ah Jezebel! See me don’t fling rockstone after yuh if yuh do dat trick again.”
David had not attended Mr DaCosta’s party like many of the other young men and women who resided in Claremont, but had hiked up the hillside to pay Levi a final visit. Numerous bonfires that stretched to the horizon and lighting up the night sky offered a spectacular view behind him.
Roasting a fish on a sharpened stick over his own small fire, Levi smiled warmly when he saw his visitor. “Me suppose yuh don’t waan anyt’ing to nyam?”
“Nuh, sa,” laughed David, palming his stomach in a circular motion. “Me jus’ come to say goodbye. Me gone tomorrow.”
“Oh! Yuh tell ya family?”
“Me tell Papa today. It kinda surprise me becah him never fuss about it. But me affe tell me mama inna de marnin. Me hope she don’t trouble her head too much.”
Satisfied that the fish was cooked, Levi placed it in a charred frying pan where his fork was waiting. He went over to David and embraced him. “May de Most High protect yuh. An’ if t’ings don’t turn out good, don’t be too proud to come back.”
“Yes, sa. Levi, yuh look mighty strange to me eye but yuh been ah good friend. Me will never forget yuh an’ de t’ings yuh teach me will stay inna me mind.”
The friends regarded each other for a long, silent second, then parted. Sadness crept into Levi’s eyes for David’s company had proved a comfort to him and his departure would be a sore loss. No man is an island, he thought. Although David first looked upon Levi with fearful eyes, he had never passed judgement on him, accepting him for what he was. A rare thing in Levi’s world. Godly him ah Godly, Levi muttered to himself.
“David,” Levi spoke softly. “De t’ings dat me teach yuh, y’know, about de Bible an’ de true words from de Holy Piby. Don’t speak of it to anyone. Keep it to yaself. Jus’ let it guide yuh. Come back when yuh ’ave time to visit an’ keep honouring ya mudder an’ fader. Yuh know, ya fader come from ah mighty people, de Maroons dem. Never forget dat. In fact, all of we come from de seed of kings.”
“Levi, who ah teach yuh dese t’ings yuh ah teach me?”
Levi paused, not sure if he had the authority to answer. “Me will tell yuh, David, becah me trus’ yuh. From Montego Bay me go to ah school inna Kingston fe furder study. Me fader ah sen’ me der to learn about de ways of de church an’ study de Bible. As any good fader inna Jamaica, him did waan me to follow him footsteps. Anyway, one fine night inna Kingston, when me ’ave not’ing fe do, me met ah mon who call himself Kwabena. He was ah well educated mon, know nuff t’ings dat happen in de world. T’ings dat European mon conceal from we. As me get to know him, Kwabena ah tell me dat him belong to dis order call de Coptic Masons. Dem very secretive but very wise. Der duty is to pass on vital information dat ’ave passed t’rough nuff generation all de way back from Africa. But dem affe be very careful to who dey pass on dese facts.” Levi looked upon David as if he was warning him.
Understanding the legacy that Levi had given him, David smiled warmly, then set off down the hillside, emerging out of the mist like a living silhouette. He hummed one of the songs his maternal grandmother always sang, happy that at last he’d become a man, plotting his own path in life and allowing himself to praise the One God of Moses, Akhenaten and Nefertiti.
Early next morning, Amy rose with the rooster’s first call. As was her custom, she looked down at her sleeping children, silently giving thanks to the Most High for a new day. David wasn’t in his usual place at the bottom of the sisters’ bed. Amy dashed outside, thinking her son had come to harm up at Mr DaCosta’s last night – his parties usually concluded with fisticuffs. She found David in the back yard, splashing his face with water that he had already collected from the stream.
“David! Why yuh rise so early? Yuh brute, David! Yuh stop me heartbeat when me rise an’ me don’t see yuh sleeping.”
David walked over to the kitchen where he had already placed a pot of water over the fire; Kwarhterleg, coched in the corner, had one eye open, feigning sleep. “Mama, sit down an’ let me mek yuh ah coffee.”
Perching herself on the unsteady stool, Amy eyed her son with suspicion. David presented an uneasy Amy with a mug of coffee. “Mama, me leaving Claremont today,” he said gently.
“Wha’ yuh mean ya leaving Claremont today? Ya fader ah sen’ yuh ’pon errand ah Brown’s Town to pick up seed or somet’ing?” Amy ignored her coffee.
“Nuh, Mama. Me leaving to find me own way, see de world.”
“But, David! Yuh cyan’t leave. Yuh ’ave ah good life here an’ yuh me only son! Only ah few weeks ago ya papa an’ me was talking how we gwarn give yuh ah liccle money to buil’ house nah far from we. Now yuh tell me yuh intend to leave? Ungrateful yuh ah, ungrateful! Wha’ gwarn happen to we plot ah land if ya fader tek sick or old age ah ben’ him back? Who give yuh life after mighty pain? Who bathe yuh? Who feed yuh? An’ now yuh ’ave de damn cheek to say yuh leaving. Jus’ like dat? If it wasn’t so damn early me woulda lick yuh wid me washing line. Ungrateful yuh ah, ungrateful!”
“Mama, me nuh gone fe ever. An’ when me ’ave liccle time, look fe me come harvest or Easter time. Becah me would come to visit wid de Most High’s blessing. Me jus’ get dis calling dat is mighty hard to ignore.”
“Wha’ yuh mean yuh get ah calling? Me get ah calling every marnin dat me shoulda stay inna me bed an’ res’ meself an’ mebbe de duppy will cook fe me an’ fetch water an’ do all de t’ings me affe do every day. But me cyan’t stay inna me bed! Me affe do wha’ me affe do! Don’t de good book ah say dat ah chile mus’ honour him fader an’ mudder? Me cyan’t believe dis! Gwarn an’ leave us if yuh ’ave to, but me don’t give yuh me blessing!”
Closing his eyes, David hung his head in exasperation. Amy tutted, turned away from her son and stormed back into the house, cussing loudly. Five minutes later, Hortense came running out and made straight for David, throwing her arms around his waist. Tears were running down her cheeks. “David! David! Why yuh leaving? Yuh don’t love me nuh more!”
Dropping to his haunches, David palmed away Hortense’s
tears and gazed at her as only a loving elder brother can. “Nuh cry, Hortense. Nuh cry. Of course me love yuh. Love yuh t’rough to me bone, all of yuh. But me ah mon now. Me affe look fe ah wife, stan’ up ’pon me own foot, rely ’pon nobody but meself. In time yuh will understan’ but never t’ink dat me nuh love yuh.”
“But, David. Who? Who me gwarn to play wid now yuh gone an’ lef’ me? Yuh nuh love me, David. YUH NUH LOVE ME!” She began to throw punches and kicks at her brother, tears flowing from her eyes. David grabbed Hortense’s arms and pulled her close to his chest.
“Hortense, me t’ought dat yuh was ah big woman? If yuh ah big woman den why me sight eye-water ’pon ya cheeks? Nuh cry Hortense becah when yuh get me outta ya mind den yuh will sight me once more. Nuh cry. In time when yuh grow yuh will find someone to love an’ yuh will look ’pon dis day an’ laugh.”
“Nuh me won’t,” protested Hortense. “Me will never do dat!”
“Den carry me inna ya heart,” said David. “Remember our good days. Even Jesus had to leave his family to start him work. Never doubt dat me t’inking of yuh every day. Never doubt me return an’ most important of all, learn to love an’ live wid yaself. For dat is our gift to Massa God.”
“David,” Hortense sobbed. “Me nuh understan’ ah word yuh ah say.”
“Yuh will. Me promise yuh dat. Yuh will.”
Hugging his youngest sister, David could see Jenny slowly approaching him. In striking contrast to Hortense, Jenny was very subdued, cold almost. David released his hold on Hortense, stood up and opened his arms to receive Jenny. Jenny walked up to her brother, stood on tip-toes and kissed him formally on the cheek. “David, me will miss yuh. May de Most High bless ya every step.”
David stroked Jenny’s head. “Look after ya sister fe me, becah she need yuh more dan yuh ever know. Remember dat. Keep studying de Bible, for de stories inna it hold de key to de soul. An’, Jenny, let ya heart sing so everybody cyan hear. Don’t restrain it! For dat will cause yuh damage like over-cooked yam inna cooking pot wid de lid pressed down tight.”
