Authors: Alex Wheatle
Now showing her exhaustion under her eyes and the lasting pain of a mother who has lost her first born, Amy smiled at her eldest daughter. “Nuh fret yaself, Jenny. Res’ yaself. Carmesha already promised me she would go up to Levi. An’ as fe de new people who talk wid nuh manners. Pay dem nuh mind. Dey don’t know de ways of country living an’ dey ’ave to learn manners.”
Presenting Amy with the day’s takings before entering the house to find her comb, Jenny then took the donkey’s reins and led him into the nearby field to graze while she braided her own hair. She hummed her favourite hymn, trying to rid the sexual image of Cilbert from her mind.
Having just changed Daniel’s undergarments, Carmesha passed her son into Amy’s arms. “Yuh know,” said Amy, peering at Jenny in the field. “Anyt’ing me ask her she don’t complain. It seem she finally forget about her fader an’ de contention she did ah give me liccle after dat. Levi used de donkey dis marnin but Jenny keep her mout’ quiet. Me surely been blessed wid Jenny. But sometimes me wonder if she alright, yuh know. Me feel dat me affe tip-toe around her becah yuh never know when she vex. Me affe remember dat she did feel it de most when Joseph gone.”
“Me did ah
feel
it too!” sniped Hortense from the kitchen. “An’ stop chat behind me sister back!”
“An’ me did ah feel it too!” interjected Kwarhterleg, his eyes lost in some memory of Joseph. “Serious t’ing!”
“Nuh trouble yaself, Mama,” Carmesha replied, turning her
attention to Amy. “Jenny well ably. She sort out an’ deal wid t’ings inna her own way. She ’ave ah wise head ’pon her shoulder.”
Amy passed on some money to Carmesha. “Tell Levi dat him ’ave to grow more pepper. We running out. Me wonder wha’ dat mon ah spend him money ’pon?”
“Him probably ah plant it,” laughed Carmesha. Him coulda at least t’row away him smelly reg-jegs an’ buy new pants! An’ when me talk to him Levi talk back in riddles. Yuh woulda ’ave to be King Solomon to understand dat mon.”
“Yes,” Amy nodded. “But don’t jest wid him! Yuh know, Levi come like ah saviour to we since Joseph gone an’ lef’, although him look like de reincarnation ah Medusa ’pon ah bad day. So never vex him. Always talk to him nice. Lord give me strengt’! To t’ink dat Preacher Mon papa used to warn me when me ah girl chile, ‘beware of de blackheart mon becah dem ’ave serpents ’pon dem head an’ dey look fe children to mek dem dead.’ An’ now de so-called blackheart mon ah help we. Why yuh don’t find Levi ah pair ah Joseph pants?”
“Yes, ah good idea dat. But of course! Me know me affe talk sweet wid him. Me know dat, Mama. But sometime yuh don’t wonder where him ah come from? Where him family ah der?”
Recalling the first months when Joseph appeared in her life, Amy offered Carmesha a knowing smile. “Jamaican
mon
!” she chuckled. “So damn secretive an’ funny inna dem ways.”
“Jamaican
women
,” Kwarhterleg retorted. “So full ah talk dat de brain cyan’t work an’ reason. Massa God never tek him res’ ’pon de sevent’ day, him start work ’pon de vocals of de Jamaican women an’ him
don’t
finish ’til de patu dem hoot in de midnight hour.
Ha ha ha
! Serious t’ing.”
The Rodney women looked upon Kwarhterleg with sideway glances and angled brows.
“Amy?” Carmesha called, dropping her tone, ignoring Kwarhterleg’s histrionics. “It’s been over two years since Joseph gone an’ me affe say dat yuh seem to handle it well ably. Sometime ah nighttime me cry fe yuh when me sight yuh ah stan’ up outside de yard an’ look out down de road. Me know so it ah Joseph yuh look
for. But most of de time it’s like yuh behave like him never exist?”
Considering her reply, Amy looked out to the southern hills; her expression was blank. “Yuh know, Carmesha. From de day me marry dat mon me was ’fraid dat him would leave me one day. Jackie did ah always tell me so, but now she don’t talk about it becah she t’ink me would box her down. An me would fe true! Me sister too free wid her opinion. Me papa keep quiet about de matter too; him know wha’ is good fe him! Papa used to tell me somet’ing when me was ah girl chile.
Ya lose one, yuh gain one
. And dat is certainly true wid David an’ Daniel. Carmesha, me papa love ya son it’s ah shame! Him always begging me to bring Daniel to him. But anyway, de trut’ ah de matter is dat me never feel dat bad when Joseph lef’ an’ gone. Me was expecting it. Of course me miss him but me don’t ’ave nuh time to pine an’ wail an’ bare me teet’ like hillside farmer who get up inna de marnin an’ cyan’t see nuh water inna him well. Water affe fetch. Dinner affe cook, corn need to be stripped. Work never stop. But yuh know, Joseph
will
come back. Me sure ah dat.”
Facing Carmesha, Amy presented her with a warm smile. “Carmesha, me well glad me ’ave yuh to talk to, udderwise me feel dat me would be talking to de Blue Mahoe tree dem.”
“Sometime yuh talk to de fowl,” joked Hortense. “An’ dem cyan’t tek ya cuss-cuss neider!”
Carmesha laughed before entering the house to find a pair of Joseph’s old cotton strides. She departed, leaving Amy staring in wonder at the southern ranges that were now looming, shapeless grey shadows in the oncoming Jamaican night. Kwarhterleg was still chuckling to himself.
Despite the night devouring the day, Levi was still toiling in the fields when Carmesha arrived. His mane of hair seemed to impede him as he bent his back, his fingers a blur as they worked the land. “Levi!” Carmesha called. “Levi!”
Levi stood up and turned around, offering a smile. He had to resist sexual thoughts as he looked at Carmesha. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been with a woman and the emergence of Carmesha, Jenny, Hortense and even Amy in his life had sorely
challenged his Nazarene oaths. He had asked himself many times if he was stubbornly refusing to ‘be’ and ‘act’ like a man with a man’s faults and vices. Who was he to deny his manliness? While asleep in his lofty retreat he had frequently dreamed of having sex with them all.
“Levi. Me waan yuh to tek off ya dutty pants so me cyan wash dem down ah river. Here’s ah pair ah Joseph old pants. Put dem on becah me cyan’t tek ya smell an’ every time me stan’ up close to yuh me affe hold me nose tight like virgin holding on to her lover.”
Mildly offended, for he had bathed himself in the river two nights ago, Levi yielded to Carmesha’s orders without complaint. He pulled off his muddied, unlaced boots, then turned around so not to expose his genitals and whipped off his soiled, blue pants. He stood naked under the red-setting sun. Carmesha never saw his abashed face. She let her eyes feast on Levi’s body. His calves were bunched and well defined. His thighs were honed from many years walking up to his hillside home, the hamstring muscles clearly formed in a perfectly set arch and the small details of his back muscles rippled whenever he performed the slightest moves.
“Levi, isn’t it about time dat yuh come down from ya hillside an’ live wid de living?” asked Carmesha.
“Nuh, Carmesha. Me content where me der. Living me life wid nature. Lissening to de Natural Mystic. Nature cyan’t lie to me an’ dat’s where me get me fulfilment.”
“Don’t give me dat foolishness, Levi! Yuh know, Amy t’ink ya Godly but yuh know wha’ me t’ink? Me t’ink ya ’fraid ah living wid de living! Of course, yuh ’ave it easy up here so. Yuh don’t affe talk to anybody apart from we family. Yuh don’t affe sell food ah market an’ put up wid de higgler susu. Yuh jus’ keep yaself to yaself. David had his beliefs but him never hide himself like yuh. Him never live like ah small island. Nuh, mon! Me don’t t’ink ya Godly. Becah if yuh truly Godly den yuh will nah fear nuhbody susu talk an’ live life nuh ’fraid ah scandal an’ dem t’ing der. Yes, Levi. Yuh ’ave it easy.
We
’ave to deal wid people, reason wid dem an’ accept or try to ignore wha’ people say about yuh. It’s about time yuh defend yaself.”
“Why should me affe defend meself? Argument an’ contention is de devil’s talk an’ when mon come togeder dat’s all dem do.”
“Even Jesus Christ walk fe forty days inna de wilderness an’ had to resist Old Screwface temptations, but him come back to de living,” snapped Carmesha. “So, Levi. Sometime me wonder to meself if yuh too ’fraid to resist temptation if yuh live wid de living. Why yuh so ’fraid? Yuh t’ink dat if yuh live wid us dat yuh cyan’t be so damn pure an’ Godly? Mebbe yuh will find dat yuh jus’ like any udder mon.”
Finding himself nodding, Levi was unable to think of a retort. Carmesha, grinning triumphantly, approached him. “Why yuh tek dis family burden, Levi? Why? Becah yuh ’ave nuh obligation?”
Levi glanced at the spot where David was buried. “Becah when me hear dat David dead, me t’ought dat me was responsible. Him use to come to me fe guidance, yuh know, we used to reason an’ talk. An’ Carmesha, yuh say yaself dat de police kill him becah de locks ’pon his head. So me affe accept some part ah de responsibility fe David life. Me ’ave to honour him memory.”
“Foolishness yuh ah talk!” sniped Carmesha. “David had his own mind. David do wha’ him waan to do an’ believe me, nuff mon try an’ influence him wid dem talk but David formed him own opinions. So, Levi, yuh nah responsible fe anyt’ing! Understan’ dat mon.”
Levi could do nothing but nod again, thinking to himself that Carmesha was a mighty impressive woman. She walked up to him, offering his share of the takings. “Levi, wha’ yuh do wid ya money?”
Levi shrugged. “Not’ing.”
Now laughing, Carmesha turned and started down the hill. Levi watched her disappear into the coconut groves. His mind was forming a vision of making wild love to her under the palm fronds, tearing off her frock and running his hands over her generous breasts, rolling around on the grass, both of their naked bodies soiled by the dirt. “Yes,” he admitted to himself. “Me not nuh Nazarene. Me jus’ ah simple mon. Like any udder.” He heard Carmesha shout. “Levi! Me forget to tell yuh, yuh affe plant some
pepper! An’ one more t’ing. De good book say dat mon affe multiply. Levi, yuh cyan’t multiply wid scallion an’ sweet potato! Until de nex’ time, see yuh!”
Levi laughed but now felt more alone than ever, only the birdsong and the rustling of the leaves above his home to look forward to. He couldn’t even read his books for the 1951 storm had washed them away. He hoped Carmesha would come up and see him tomorrow. He hoped one day he would live with her.
As Carmesha was returning home, glad that she had finally won a verbal battle over Levi, Jacob, Levi’s brother, was nervously knocking on the door of the Rodney household. He was holding his black, felt stetson with both hands while shuffling his feet, trying his best to be presentable. Amy opened the door. Jacob bowed slightly, smiling. “Good night, Miss Amy,” his words of greeting following the best polite Jamaican tradition. “I waan to ask ya permission if I coulda escort Jenny to Elvira’s birt’night party up der ah Misser DaCosta.”
Biting her lip to stem her humour, Amy replied. “Yes, of course. Me will jus’ call her. Jenny! Jenny!”
Jenny came trudging to the door, looking disinterested. She was holding the family Bible in her right hand. Jacob bowed elegantly again. “Good night, Jenny. Mighty fine to see yuh dis fine night an’ as ever, ya face shame de most elegant flower.” A stifled laughter could be heard from a back room but Jacob continued. “Jenny, yuh remember me tell yuh las’ Sunday inna church about Elvira’s birt’night? Well, de day has come an’ me here to escort yuh.”
Jenny offered a false smile, running her eyes over Jacob who was soberly dressed in a blue suit and red tie. Not as dangerous as Cilbert, she concluded. No way near as handsome. Ah nice pleasant mon but dat is all. “Yes, me remember, Jacob. But me ’ave blister ’pon me foot from standing up ah market all week an’ me well, well tired. Me was flattered dat yuh ask me an’ if me coulda come me would. But me don’t waan yuh to carry me home if me cyan’t walk an’ me don’t waan to be nuh burden. Me sweet sister, Hortense, is looking after me. Liccle earlier she place some herb inna bowl full ah hot water to mek me soothe me foot dem. Mebbe de nex’ time.”
Amy presented Jenny with an accusatory glare as Jacob dropped his head. He placed his hat back upon his head and sighed. He was just about to say farewell when Hortense appeared at the door. “Yuh cyan’t tek me?” she offered, smiling broadly, her eyes sparkling. “Me foot nuh bruise or blister. Besides, Jenny never love to dance. She woulda jus’ sit down an’ sip her box juice all meek an’ quiet. So, Jacob, wha’ yuh say?”
Sensing an argument might develop, Amy bid farewell to Jacob before leaving to tend to her grandson. Jenny scowled at Hortense with utter disdain before marching off. Hortense presented an anxious Jacob with another sexy grin that hit the target; Jacob inched backwards, staring at his feet. “I. I cyan’t see nuh reason why I cyan’t escort yuh. It. It would be ah pleasure, Hortense.”
“Yes, it would,” returned Hortense, quick as a flash. “Sorry about me sister, sometime she ’ave her funny ways. She always come back grumpy when she work alone in ah de market. An’ she cyan’t expect me to be wid her all de while. But, Jacob, yuh deserve dat me look me best dis fine night so me jus’ gwarn to change. Soon come.” She offered Jacob a wink as she about-turned. Jacob closed his eyes, anticipating a bad night ahead with
Fire Nettle
.
Hortense was dressed in a light blue, knee-length frock that she had bought from Mrs Walters; Amy negotiated a discount with the dressmaker that involved a sackful of yams, peppers and sweet potatoes. She offered Jacob her arm. Jacob, smiling nervously, accepted and led her uphill to Mr DaCosta’s land through the pimento groves.
Although he had lost many of his livestock in the 1951 hurricane, Mr Welton DaCosta, who had learned from his father the science of selective breeding, had since prospered, selling his livestock not just in Claremont but to surrounding hamlets as well.
Mr DaCosta had built a two-room extension to his original six-room home and upon his wide verandah there were now four circular tables with striped blue and white umbrellas sprouting out of them; Mrs DaCosta gave afternoon teas following church on Sundays to the likes of Isaac and his wife and other well-booted folk. In the corner of the verandah stood a radiogram, its height
challenging Mr DaCosta’s tallest goat and its width similar to that of one of his brown cows. It was connected with a cable to a vibrating generator behind the house that was next to an outside kitchen with three hearths.