What the River Washed Away Read online

  Those drums sound terrible now, so I press my fingers tight inside my ears. Then two men come struggling with our cockerel. Ain’t easy on account of that bird being frightened for his life, and he’s right about that.

  ‘He’s a big beauty. Plenty spirit in him.’

  Ain’t gonna be there long.

  Mambo’s holding her knife high and ready. The crowd close in so that poor bird ain’t able to run amok once his head is off and he’s done for.

  I turn away and cover my eyes. My thumbs are stuffed hard inside my ears ’cause I ain’t wanting no part in it. I ain’t wanna be seeing nothing and I ain’t wanna be hearing nothing, but I know that cockerel is fighting hard for his life ’cause I can still hear him squawking. When it stops, a big noise raises outta that old barn like it’s rumbling up outta hell itself and bringing one heap of trouble up with it. By the time I peep out between my fingers, there ain’t nothing to see but that poor bird’s blood splattered all over white dresses and bare bones. And I sure reckon it’s shameful. Like Pappy said, it ain’t right.

  Blood is splashed all over Mambo’s white clothes and I see it’s trickling down her neck. Her neck is near as long as that bird’s, so there’s plenty blood on it. Her dress is falling off her shoulder and two men stand with her ’cause it looks like she’s losing the power in her own legs now. Her eyes are fearful white and I’m shivering with thinking about what all them spirits must be doing inside my Mambo.

  Everybody is shaking and dancing and wailing, ’cause now business taken care of, they’re happy spending time with the spirits of the old country. They say it keeps them strong and able to stand up to white folks. They say the spirits of the old world can cross over and turn white folks’ holy spirits back on them, give them plenty of fear with it, ’cause that’s the power of Mambo’s blood.

  They’re holding Mambo up so she can pass the spirits over. They call that ‘passing the power of kings’. Some folks tremble and fall, some start talking like they’re seeing them spirits right there, walking down the bayou road.

  All of that’s what Grandma taught my Mambo and what Mambo wants to teach me too, but I ain’t never gonna do it. I pray to my Pappy and ask him to make sure of it, just like he always said he would.

  ‘Please, Pappy, make it so that I won’t never have to do that. Please, please, Pappy, I don’t wanna be drinking no blood and have no bad spirits shaking inside of my belly. Please ask God and make him save me. Everybody says ya right close to God Almighty, please, Pappy, please. Our Father, art in Heaven …’

  I say the prayer he taught me over and over till I can hardly breathe. I open my eyes just as Mambo falls to the dusty earth with all her nice white clothes covered in blood and hardly on her at all. She ain’t got her corset on neither and her saggy breasts fall out for all the world to see, and I feel shamed ’cause I’m the one who made them get that way. I’m shamed now everybody can see what I’ve done to my own Mambo. Her skirt rides up and I reckon Pappy would have been thankful she’s smart enough to be wearing her panties.

  She gets carried off and I watch everybody dancing; spirit or liquor, sure ain’t no way of telling what makes folks like that. I’m just glad Mambo’s all done and we can get on back to our own cabin.

  But I ain’t keeping my eye on things and I don’t see her at all. I get to thinking some of that blood maybe ain’t from our cockerel after all. What if some of that blood is Mambo’s own? Maybe one of them devil spirits is doing her harm someplace, making her bleed. I don’t know what they’re able to be doing inside of her at all.

  ‘Playing with fire, that’s what ya doing, playing with the Devil himself and one day he gonna turn on ya. Ya best be watching out, my girl. He gonna turn. Always does.’ Pappy used to say that.

  I stare into the darkness round the mule barn, feeling sure the Devil’s gone turned on Mambo.

  ‘Mambo?’

  No answer.

  ‘Mambo, where are ya? Mambo?’

  She’s gonna be bleeding someplace and needing my help, that’s for sure. Fear takes a grip of me all over. I’m just scared as hell all the time, scared of Mambo when she’s like this, and scared for what all them spirits are doing inside of her. I’m scared of Mr McIntyre and all his doing to me. I’m scared of all them white folks lynching and burning. I’m scared about what all them bad folks are doing to us poor folks, and ain’t nothing we ever able to do about it.

  I climb down from the wall and run round the barn, but Mambo ain’t nowhere to be seen. I gotta go far from the light of the burning torches, but still I ain’t seeing her any place. And one thing I can say is, I’m scared of the dark, always been. Then I hear a noise. It’s Mambo moaning in pain. I know she’s hurt bad, I saw all the blood, and I’m worried about how bad she’s gonna be when I find her.

  Her white clothes lie spread out over the ground. Right next to them I catch sight of her legs high up in the air and somebody going at her like he’s gonna kill her. I run head first, butting like a bull, with all the strength I’ve got to save her.

  ‘Leave her alone! Leave my Mambo alone!’ I scream as loud as I can and charge full on into the man beating at my Mambo.

  He’s left with two cracked ribs.

  ‘Leave her alone! Help! Somebody help!’

  ‘Arletta? What the hell are ya doing?’

  ‘Mambo! It’s me, Arletta. Ya okay?’

  Thwack.

  Three

  Next morning it seems to me Mambo’s forgotten all about it. I ain’t falling for that at all; that’s when Mambo sure is up to something.

  ‘Arletta, get up. Come on now.’

  ‘Comin’, Mambo.’

  ‘Come on now. I’ve got a surprise.’

  I get up and go out back in my old cotton slip, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Mambo says she’s got a surprise and I reckon I need to be looking out about it.

  ‘What surprise, Mambo?’

  ‘You know what day it is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s ya birthday Arletta. Come on now, don’t say ya forgetting it’s ya birthday. I’ve made sweet sugar cocoa and I’m gonna …’

  Cocoa? Mambo’s made cocoa and I’m all awake now. I ain’t hardly ever had cocoa.

  ‘Yup, and I’m gonna be making some real fancy pancakes too.’

  She hands me my tin cup full of frothy sweet cocoa and that sure is the best-tasting drink I’ve ever had. She’s all smiles and wiping froth from under my nose with her cloth and I just can’t figure it.

  ‘I’m gonna get on into the Brouillette commissary this morning on Bobby-Rob’s cart and get some raising agent for putting in flour. Hell, we got plenty eggs, and I’m gonna make some nice special pancakes for ya birthday, real fancy like I seen down in Mamou, with some of our own figs in syrup too, if they’s ready. Been hot enough and I reckon they come early. They look good enough for cookin’ up anyways.’

  ‘That how ya make pancakes Mambo? And syrup? Can I watch?’

  ‘’Course ya can, even help me make it if ya want. Ya like that? Huh?’

  I can’t exactly get over Mambo being so nice after I charged so hard at her new beau. He got lifted straight off last night to get his ribs strapped up and Mambo marched me home saying how I ‘put paid to that one right and proper’. I look her way ’cause it’s like she don’t remember that at all, but my cocoa tastes so good and sweet, and thinking about having figgy syrup for my birthday is so good and sweet, that I just let it go and finish my cup of frothy cocoa milk.

  ‘Oh, that sure is lovely Mambo. Can I get some more?’

  I say it before I think it might be enough to get me thwacked if she gets minded about last night, or even if she don’t. I duck, though Mambo’s over the other side of the washtub and ain’t looking mad at all. I just can’t get over how she ain’t mad as hell at me.

  ‘And guess what else I’m gonna do on ya birthday?’

  Oh ho.

  ‘Guess what Arletta? Go on now. Have a guess.’

  Now
I’m scared. If I don’t come up with guessing something, it sure is gonna go spoiling the whole day, especially with it starting out so darnit nice.

  ‘Well, I guess ya could give me … a … a …’

  ‘I’m gonna be sending ya for schooling Arletta. Seems to me that’s just what ya needing. What ya think of that, honey?’

  I forget all about cocoa milk and figgy syrup, even how nice Mambo is when she sure ain’t got no reason to be.

  ‘Mambo! Ya gonna let me go to school? Oh, thank you. Thank you!’ I rush at her and throw my arms right round her whole waist. ‘Mambo, that’s just the best surprise in the whole world. Thanks Mambo!’

  ‘I knew that was gonna make ya happy Arletta.’

  ‘Well, I’m s’posed to go, I know that, gov’ment says …’

  ‘The gov’ment says?’ She laughs in her sing-song mocking voice and starts on about how the gov’ment ain’t able to tell us free black folks nothing no more. How they used to stop us blacks having any schooling at all ’cause they didn’t think we was up to being educated and how now they’re telling us we gotta go.

  ‘Them’s just folks saying whatever they feel like saying anytime, day or night, and don’t ya be paying them no mind.’

  ‘Well, just as long as I can go.’ I’m starting to get worried now.

  ‘Well, them’s all what they call Christians at that school, and they ain’t thinking much on me at all. They’re all like Pappy. Hah! I knows what I am, and I knows a lot of them ain’t fine proper Christians neither. But ya just need to be learning, ya ready for it, I can see it’s time, and it’s fine learning about Jesus helping folks. That’s what they’s gonna tell ya and that’s okay by me. Ya got it Arletta? Ya get on off over to that school and learn what ya can. About time. Ya got it?’

  ‘I got it,’ I says, though I don’t know what she’s talking about. I lost the follow on what she was saying way back and, anyways, I’m still licking my sweet little cocoa lips. I heard the part about them being like Pappy and that sounds fine to me.

  ‘So, what ya think about that then? Ya get y’self into that pretty frock I got for ya, and y’all able to start right away if ya want. Ain’t no reason why not. It’s time.’

  ‘Well I ain’t gonna wear that frock. Ya gotta wear what they’s call a uniform.’

  ‘Ya can wear anything ya want.’

  Well, that start us off. If I don’t say what I gotta say, Mambo is just gonna get me doing stuff all them kids gonna be laughing at and I done had enough of that already. I tell her how I hear them kids talking and I hear Safi Sucree got sent home twice ’cause she ain’t wearing no uniform. That mission school is real strict, from what I hear. I hear all them kids talking, and if ya ain’t wearing it, ya can’t go. That’s what they say. That’s what they said to Safi and they were right about that, ’cause I saw her bawling about it when she got off the bus.

  ‘Oh, Safi always looks fine. Them’s just looking for something else to moan about.’

  ‘Ya gotta wear it, Mambo, the green shirt and the brown skirt. Ya gotta wear it every day.’

  ‘All right! We’ll get it, we gonna get it.’

  ‘And ya gotta tell them I’m coming so they knows about me, so they knows I’m coming.’

  I know my mouth running off on account of how much I wanna go to school, seems I ain’t able to stop it. Mambo slams that pan down hard and throws her hands in the air.

  ‘Darnit Arletta, if ya don’t shut up …’

  ‘Ya can go and tell them I’m coming on the way to Brouillette can’t ya, Mambo? They’re gonna tell ya all about how it works at school. They got a teacher, she’s called Mrs Hampton, she’s real hard on them kids about learning, and they say she’s tough about keeping them in line too, and she even belted some boys …’

  I shouldn’t have said belted.

  Thwack.

  I get so excited I could jump when Mambo leaves for Brouillette. She’s gonna tell the school folks I’m coming. She ain’t happy about asking white folks for a hand-me-down uniform, but that’s just what everybody’s gotta do and I don’t know why she’s fussing about it, since every darned thing I ever got is hand-me-down from someplace. My mind gets busy thinking about reading real books and learning math that ain’t just counting sticks. And I’m gonna feel real special when I get homework. I’m gonna be real good at it too, that’s for sure.

  I hope somebody will play with me now, and not call me Po’bean like they do when they catch me spying on them through the trees. Well, anyways, I’m so happy I don’t care what they do, just so long as I get schooling like everybody else. After I’ve been at the pipe to wash my face clean of all the cocoa I ain’t able to lick, I sit outside daydreaming so much about cocoa and figgy syrup and school, and how this is just gotta be the best day of my life, that I don’t even see him coming till his shoes are right up in front of me and he’s blocking out the sun.

  ‘Well, hello there Sweetpea. I was on my rounds and saw Mambo get herself a ride on Bobby-Rob’s cart. Now, where is she going Sweetpea? Eh?’

  I make to get up and run but he grabs both my arms, and then he’s dragging me inside. Terror dries up my throat and I ain’t able for nothing at all, ’cause I’m already caught and the power’s gone out of my legs.

  ‘She’ll be just a little while lining up at that mission, Little Miss Thinking-you’re-going-to-get-an-education. So let’s me and you do what you like best, Sweetpea, before she gets back here and finds out what you really like to do when she’s gone.’

  ‘I don’t like it, pleeeaase don’t …’

  He mocks me with that funny baby voice he uses sometimes.

  ‘Well, it sure don’t look like that to me. You look to me like you’re having a fine time of it. That’s why I have to keep on coming over here. I need to be keeping you a happy little Po’bean. Don’t I?’

  It sounds like I’ve only got a whisper for a voice and I sure am about fainting with fear. ‘Please no … please don’t make me do nothing.’

  Mr McIntyre pushes me into the bedroom and tells me if I scream he’s gonna slit my throat and break Mambo in half.

  ‘So you be a nice girl, be a good girl now.’

  I nod as he grabs my hair and pulls till I squirm.

  ‘You really are a good girl, aren’t you? That’s my Sweetpea.’

  When he’s spent, I throw up. My nice cocoa is up with it, and all over Mambo’s clean floor too. I get a thwack round the head and told cleaning up my own mess is something to be keeping myself busy with till Mambo gets home. Then he tells me he’ll be bringing his friend back and I’ve gotta be good to him too, ’cause he’s told him all about me and how nice I like to be.

  ‘And guess what?’ He bends down right in my face, ‘He says he’s going to give you fifty cents every time he comes. How about that?’

  I retch again.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sakes – not on my shoes! I’m in the middle of my working day you know. Clean it up, go on.’

  I ain’t got nothing to be cleaning it up with, so I just start wiping up with the hem of my frock. He says his friend Seymour don’t like all that screaming I did last time he brought him, so I ain’t gotta be doing any of it. Not unless I want my Mambo cut in half. He reckons he can snap his fingers and get me and my Mambo burnt to a cinder before we even open our eyes in the morning. He sure can, he says, and I oughta know it.

  Then I gotta say thank you to him, like I should be pleased he’s coming and doing to me.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear. Now lie down. Go on girl.’

  When he’s gone I stay on Mambo’s bed a long time before I’m able to get up and fetch the bucket. I go to the pipe for water and it hurts bad. After I clean up my vomit I take off for Sugarsookie Creek as fast as my poor sore legs are able. I strip off and get myself into the deep pool. Wading in right up to my neck, I scrub and scrub all over. I wash my mouth out, over and over and over again, so the water can take his dirt all out of me. I s
crub between my legs raw and my blood flows into the creek with the blood of slaves. Still I don’t feel clean, but Soogarsookie Creek is washing over me like it’s trying and trying, ’cause it knows the pain of slaves.

  ‘Chile.’

  It’s just a whisper.

  ‘Nellie?’

  ‘Come outta the water chile. It’s gonna take ya.’

  ‘I don’t care, Nellie.’

  ‘Don’t let the river take ya chile.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘I care. Stay with us chile. Y’all need to be staying with us now.’

  ‘I can’t make him stop it Nellie, I ain’t able to make him stop …’

  ‘I can tell ya how to make it stop. I’m gonna give ya strength, I’m gonna make ya strong. Then it’s gonna stop.’

  ‘Promise me it’s gonna stop, Nellie.’

  ‘I promise. Hush, hush. Come on now. Don’t let no river take ya good life.’

  And even though I ain’t thinking my life is any good at all, I climb out of the water and put my frock back on. It’s wet, but the sun is hot.

  ‘It’s my birthday.’

  ‘How old ya chile?’

  ‘Ten. I gotta be ten years old today.’

  ‘I promise ya gonna have wonderful birthdays chile. Together we gonna make all them birthdays real nice.’

  ‘I’d like that Nellie.’

  I cry for a long time on the bank of Sugarsookie Creek. Nobody hears me except Nellie and I’m safe with her singing her song and humming softly. I cry till my body stops shaking and I ain’t able for crying no more. When I’m done, I feel worn out all over, but I don’t feel dirty no more and that’s something.

  ‘Nellie?’

  ‘I’m still here chile. Mmmm-mmm?’

  ‘Nellie, I feel better now.’

  ‘I knows it. Now ain’t that one good kinda feeling? Don’t that make ya feel strong? It’s just as I says now, ain’t it?’

  ‘Yes Nellie.’

  For a long time it’s quiet, except for the sound of water flowing in the creek. Then I tell Nellie I’m gonna be starting school.

  ‘That’s good chile, ya’s a clever girl and gonna learn quick. Ya gonna make a friend too.’