Root Magic

by Eden Royce

  Mama bit her lip, probably to keep her words inside. She marched up to our porch and opened the screen door, then unlocked the front door, then swung it wide to allow Deputy Collins to walk in first, the rest of us behind him.

  A blast of hot, sticky air hit me as soon as I walked inside. The house had been closed up since early this morning when we left for the funeral. On an ordinary day, we would open the windows first thing to let the hot air out of the house and let the sweet summer breeze in. We all waited while the deputy went through each one of our rooms in order: our front room, Doc’s bedroom, Mama’s room, the room I shared with Jay, the washroom, and the kitchen. He looked through everything, opening drawers and dumping the contents on the floor, ignoring Mama’s and Doc’s pleas for him to not destroy what we had.

  “Mama?” I whispered.

  “Shhh, Jezebel. It’ll be over soon enough.”

  As Deputy Collins tumbled and fumbled around, he knocked into a small bud vase I had forgotten to take and place on Gran’s grave. I wanted to run forward to catch it, but Mama held on to me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when it shattered against the floor. Jay’s face was like a rock, but tears were shining in his eyes. And not like the tears we had for Gran. These were tears that came because we couldn’t do anything to stop what was happening to us. Not without taking the chance that one of us might get hurt.

  Finally, as Mama said it would be, it was over. Deputy Collins came out of the room I shared with Jay. He was breathing hard, but the look in his eyes was even harder.

  “People round these parts say you all are some kinda magic witches or something. I don’t believe in no witchcraft myself, but I do believe you people are up to no good.” Deputy Collins pointed his sweaty finger in Doc’s face, and I could see, even under his thick beard, how my uncle’s jaw clutch up tight. “I got my eye on you Turners. And I will catch you one of these days.”

  “Catch us doing what?” Jay muttered under his breath so only I could hear. “Living?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from answering him. No one else said anything either, and the quiet stretched like a rubber band, long and quivering. Finally, it was Mama who broke it.

  “I need to clean my house now. Good day, Deputy Collins.”

  The deputy looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he stomped toward the front door, shoving over one of the kitchen chairs around our table as he went. Then he pushed the screen door open with his shoulder, letting it slam shut behind him. A moment later, we heard the engine of the police car scream to life and tires skidding in the dirt, scaring our chickens into a bunch of squawking.

  When all was quiet, Mama collapsed into a chair. Her breathing was fast, like she’d been running. I picked up the chair Deputy Collins had pushed over, brought it next to her, and sat down. Doc took a pitcher out of the icebox and splashed some cold sweet tea in a juice glass for her.

  “You okay, Mama?” I asked. She looked tired and her hand shook as she drank the tea.

  Doc poured some for me and Jay too, then for himself. He eased himself into a chair across from Mama with a serious look on his face.

  “Janey,” Doc said. “What happened with Collins is even more reason for you to let me teach the kids some root. We need to get them started on helping to protect ourselves and this place.”

  “I thought rootwork was just, you know, luck potions and healing medicine.” I held Mama’s hand but looked at Doc. “Like that stuff you make when my tummy hurts.”

  “Healing is part of it.” Doc took a long drink from his glass and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a clean, white fingertip towel. “It’s a service we provide because Negroes can’t go to hospitals around here. They won’t let us in, even if we’re sick or hurt. So healing is an important part of rootwork.”

  “But it isn’t the only part?” I asked.

  “It sure isn’t!” Mama snapped. Her black patent-leather clutch bag lay on the table, and she was smacking it, in quick motions, with the cardboard church fan she got earlier. It sounded like a tree branch hitting the house in a storm.

  “Janey,” Doc sighed while Mama grumbled to herself.

  “What are you talking about?” I whispered, wondering if root was secret and I shouldn’t talk about it too loud.

  “The sort of things you’ve seen me and your gran doing since you were young, that’s only part of what working the roots is about,” Doc said. “But your gran always said that as soon as she was gone, it was time for you both to learn about the rest. About protection. About making the lives of people you love better.” Doc rubbed Jay’s head with the palm of his hand.

  My socks were slipping down into my buckled Mary Jane shoes. They were dusty from the road, and the dirt made my skin itch. I pulled them up anyway. “Protection from what?”

  Doc thought a moment. “Bad people and angry spirits.”

  Jay said, “White people?”

  “Well, sometimes, yes,” Doc answered with a small nod. Mama shot him a look, but he didn’t notice and kept on talking. “But there are plenty of Negroes who believe what we do ain’t right either. That it ain’t godly. So we get a hard time from both sides.”

  “Then why do it at all?” I wondered out loud.

  This time, Doc did look to Mama. “Go on, then,” she said after a moment. “You started this; it’s not like I can keep you from finishing.”

  Doc nodded. “It’s part of our history,” he said. “If someone doesn’t teach it, if someone doesn’t learn it, the magic will eventually disappear. You know those trickster stories of Br’er Rabbit and Br’er Bear your gran used to tell? They connect us to our roots in Africa. And working the roots, our ways to protect ourselves and to get rid of spirits, they do the same thing. Even what we did today, to say goodbye to your gran.” Doc rubbed his hand against his beard. “All of that is what makes us Gullah Geechee people who we are. If no one tells the stories anymore, if no one learns the magic anymore, our ways will disappear from the world. Then all we’ll have is what other people think of us.” He bent his head to look both me and Jay in the eyes. “And how important is what other people think of us?”

  Me and Jay answered together: “Not as important as what we think of us.”

  “You’re both going to have to remember that when we start learning root magic.”

  “But you talking about mixing potions and powders and stuff, right?” Jay asked. “It ain’t real magic, is it?”

  Doc leaned back in his chair, rocking it on two legs. “It’s real as you believe it is.”

  Me and Jay shared a look. That sounded like the sort of thing grown-ups said in the storybooks we read when we were little. Folks called rootwork “magic,” but all I ever saw Gran and Doc do was sell medicines to people who came to our farm for help: powders wrapped in waxed paper for headaches; a yellow cream for mosquito bites and bee stings that smelled like fresh-cut grass; a clear, thin liquid to mix with warm water for tummy aches. The tummy medicine tasted like liquid candy canes without sugar, but it worked. I guess making people feel better was a kind of magic, but the way Doc was talking about it . . . I wasn’t so sure.

  Maybe Doc knew what we were thinking, because he said, “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. As I was saying, your gran really wanted you to learn rootwork, and now that she’s gone, I’ll need more help to protect our land and all of you.” He straightened up again. “That is, if I can get my sister’s permission.”

  With that, he looked at Mama. Mama, though, chewed at her lip and didn’t speak. She was thinking, considering her brother’s words.

  “Janey,” Doc said to Mama, “you know things are happening around these kids. They need to be able to protect themselves.”

  “I know no such thing. They’re ten years old!”

  I piped up. “We’re almost eleven.”

  “Yeah, day after tomorrow,” Jay said. He found a loose string on his shirt and pulled at it. Mama gave him the look and he wrapped his hands around
his glass instead.

  She sighed. “They shouldn’t even have to think about this business yet. They should be busy being kids! I don’t like it one little bit.”

  Doc pushed his fingers through his coily hair. “I know that’s how you feel. But this is the world we live in. And these kids were born into it. That’s a fact we all had to deal with—you, me, even Danny when he was here.”

  Jay nudged me in the ribs again. I managed to hide my grunt from his sharp elbow. I’d heard Daddy’s name as well as he did, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss a word of their conversation.

  “I know that!” Mama said. She fanned herself now, and lifted her damp hair off her neck. Then, quieter, she said, “I know. Before Danny disappeared . . . oh, forget it. They’re my children and I want them safe.”

  Doc nodded, then got up from the table and opened the window. A cool afternoon wind blew in, cutting through the oven-hot kitchen. “Then let me teach them.”

  Even though the sun had moved from overhead, sweat still beaded on my forehead, then rolled down my face on the same path my tears did earlier. Even Jay, who usually fooled around, running and ripping, only shuffled his feet along the floor, waiting.

  Finally when Mama did talk, she took a deep, shaky breath first. “Lynchings, beatings, and more than half the time, the police are right there when it happens. Or they’re the ones doing it. How are we supposed to live in this world and be safe?” Her eyes were wet and shiny. “Is root gonna protect Jez and Jay from what’s out there? Brick powder and goofer dust don’t stop the police. I’d rather deal with haints and hags.”

  While we waited for Doc’s response, the sounds of summer drifted in through the window and the front door. Wind rustled the trees and the chickens clucked for their afternoon meal. Jay hated being quiet, so of course he found something to say.

  “We’ll be careful, Mama.”

  “I know you will.” She gave Jay a sideways look over her shoulder. “Well, as much as you can be.”

  “You’re never careful,” I said, laughing. Jay stuck his tongue out at me. My brother ran headlong into everything, and I usually had to be the one to get him out again.

  “Go change out of your good clothes, you two.”

  I suspected Mama and Doc needed to talk among themselves anyway, so me and Jay ran back to our room. I grabbed my soft blue denim dress and headed for the bathroom. I ran water in the sink and washed my hands, face, and neck. I took off my white ankle socks and placed my feet on the side of the cold metal tub while I washed them too. Once I buttoned up my play dress, I left my good one in the laundry basket.

  When I came out, Jay was coming out of our room. We headed back to the kitchen, where Mama was cleaning up the mess Collins had made

  “I don’t want my kids in danger,” Mama was still saying. “With Collins sniffing around . . . I don’t want to lose anyone else. My heart can’t take it.”

  “They’re living in this world, ain’t they? So they’re already in danger.” Doc put his hand gently over Mama’s. “I’m just trying to give them a fighting chance. Our mama taught me how to protect this family. Let me teach them. Rootwork is part of who we are.”

  “Of course it is! But I want them to have better chances in life.” Mama glanced over at me and Jay. “Go to school, get good jobs, have a bright future.”

  Doc nodded. “No reason they can’t do both.” He gave me and Jay a solid look as we sat across the table from him, where he’d refilled our glasses. “That is, if you think you can keep up with your schoolwork and learn to work root.”

  “Yes!” me and Jay yelled at the same time. I bounced in my seat. The more I thought about it, the more excited I was. If Gran wanted me to learn how to be a healer and make medicines and potions, then now that she was gone, that’s exactly what I was going to do. I wanted to learn to be just like her and help our family and our community stay safe and healthy and happy. The thought of doing something Gran had wanted made the empty place inside me fill up a little.

  “Now remember, Jezebel. Jay won’t be in your class anymore.” Mama tapped her first finger against her lips like she did when she was thinking. The school had spoken with her last year about moving me straight to sixth grade after Jay and I both finished fourth, and she thought it was a good idea. “Are you sure you can keep up with all of that on your own?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’m sure I can.”

  “Jez is a smarty-pants,” Jay said. It was my turn to stick my tongue out at him. Part of me was excited for the first day of school. But a big part of me didn’t want to go at all. I never made any friends there. The local girls whispered when I walked past, and once or twice I heard the word “root.” They said it like it was a bad thing, even though I knew some of their families came to buy medicines from Doc. They weren’t mean out in the open; they just didn’t include me at lunch or in games at recess. It never used to bother me too much, because Gran was always there for me when I got home. When I told her about those kids, she’d say, “Study your schoolwork, Jezebel, not chirren that don’t know what they’re talking about. People tend to be scared of what they don’t understand, even if they need your help from time to time.” She said I’d have to get used to it if I was going to learn to work the roots.

  But now, she was gone. She was my best friend as well as my gran, and I’d lost both.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told Mama now, twisting the end of one of my pigtails. “It’ll help me feel closer to Gran. I miss her.”

  She kissed my forehead. “I know. I do too.”

  “So what do you say, Janey?” Doc asked. He was smiling like he already knew the answer.

  Mama looked at Doc long and hard, like she was searching inside him for answers. Then she took a deep breath and blew it out. She put two huge pots on the stove, then tumbled a big bag of plump figs into one and ripe tomatoes into the other. She filled both pots with water, and I knew we would be helping her pack jars of her fig preserves and tomato jam for the market tomorrow.

  Jay never had any patience. “So is that a yes, Mama?”

  “It’s a yes.”

  Me and Jay whooped and threw our hands in the air.

  Doc smiled but said, “When we start lessons, no more playing around. You’ll have to listen close to what I tell you. There’s a lot to learn.”

  “Hopefully you’ll be as excited about doing your schoolwork,” Mama said. “Now hand me that sugar dish, Jez. And Jay, get me a lemon.”

  As I got up to get the sugar, I saw Mama fix Doc with a serious, hard look. She poked him with her wooden spoon. “Take care of my kids, you hear?”

  I went over and hugged her, laying my head against her tummy. She hugged me back, really tight, but I didn’t mind at all.

  “Be careful, Jezebel,” she whispered into my hair. Her breath was warm and soft, and she smelled like baby powder and sunshine.

  She let me go, kissed me on the head. Then she yanked her apron with the pink and red roses on it off the nail on the kitchen wall, put it on over her head, and tied it around her waist.

  Doc rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Plenty of light left today. How long before dinner?”

  “Couple hours. I need to make jam for the market tomorrow first.” Mama pooched her lips out. “You fixin’ to start lessons now?”

  “No time is better.” When Doc scraped his chair back from the table, I gulped the rest of my tea.

  “Jezebel!” Mama scolded. “Drink slowly or you’ll choke.”

  “I’m fine, Mama! Come on, Jay!”

  Before we did anything else, I ran to our room and grabbed one of my composition notebooks. When Jay and I got outside, Doc was stacking heavy boxes of empty jam jars as well as the crates he and Mama would fill with fresh-picked vegetables and fruit in the morning.

  “What’s the notebook for, Jez?” he asked.

  “For root lessons.”

  Doc stacked the last box and wiped his forehead. “Ah, I see. That’s smart. Rootwork is usually passed along by w
ord of mouth, so writing it down while you learn is a good idea. You’ll have it to study on later.”

  “So what sort of magic are we gonna learn first?” Jay asked, impatient as ever.

  “Something simple.” Doc motioned for me and Jay to follow him out to his cabin. “I’ll show you how to make root bags. These bags can be used to help with almost anything. You can hide them inside the house to give you a peaceful home, or carry one around with you to make you feel safe. You can even use them to wish for something you want or need.”

  What I wanted most of all was to have Gran back, but I knew nothing could bring people back after they’ve passed. But maybe I could wish for a new best friend. Someone who didn’t care that I was learning rootwork. Someone who liked me anyway.

  Doc placed some felt material in a bunch of different colors on his worktable, then gave us each a needle and thread. We cut out rectangles of felt and sewed up the left and right sides. He also gave us string to tie the top closed when we were finished.

  “I’m doing green, for money,” Jay said.

  I chose orange as my bag’s color because it stood for change, and it would be a big change for me to have friends my own age. Even one friend would be good.

  Then came the fun part. Doc said we could fill the bags with anything we wanted, as long as there was an odd number of things in the bag.

  Jay filled his bag with a piece of dried snakeskin he found, a rock polished smooth, and a handful of sunflower seeds. I filled my bag with a dried bay leaf, a shiny new penny, a piece of pecan tree bark, and a handful of salt.

  “That’s four things,” Jay told me, pointing at my bag.

  “I know, I can count.” Lastly, I wrote the word “friend” on a piece of paper, folded it up tight, and put it in my bag. “Now that’s five.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Doc shook his head at us and took his pipe from a drawer in the worktable. “Now, breathe into your bag. This wakes it up and gives it a purpose.”