‘Let me go.’ Amina yanked her arm away. ‘Evil thing? I was leaving this world. It was angels who brought me back. Not you, or Ma, or Hannuman, or Ram.’
Three pairs of eyes full of horror landed on her. Devinia touched Amina’s neck.
‘She’s feeling a little bit hot,’ Devinia said.
‘A little bit hot?’ Sankar repeated, furious. ‘I will give her plenty of hot! Etwar, go and cut some sticks.’
Devinia looked at Sankar, shocked. ‘No! You will not beat her.’
‘There’s always a first time!’ Sankar snarled. ‘Her insolence has gone too far.’
‘No!’ Devinia yelled. ‘Over my dead body will you touch my child.’
Etwar didn’t move. None of this was normal. Amina was the peaceful one, quiet and obedient. And this upheaval had started with just a few words. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘What did you promise her?’
‘You think I care if you beat me?’ Amina shouted, interrupting him. ‘You want me to get married to some fool in San Fernando? And you want to beat me too? Well I’m not moving. Go on – beat me.’
Devinia pleaded, ‘You have upset your father, beti. The boy is a good match.’
‘You broke your promise, Ma,’ Amina said, bitterly. ‘I don’t know how you can even look me in the eye.’
‘You made your mother promise without talking to me?’ Sankar shouted. ‘You’re spoilt rotten – but no more! The next piece of jewellery you have will be for your wedding. The one I made and brought for you today, you will only have it when you start behaving like a daughter. And start learning how to do things in the house.’ He looked at his wife reproachfully. ‘The girl is useless! Teach her to cook and wash, and mind house. Unless you want me to take her out of school tomorrow.’
‘No!’ Devinia said. ‘I will teach her after school. Let her stay.’
‘Mind you do it now,’ Sankar threatened. ‘She will be married this side of the year.’
‘I am not getting married to anybody, good-looking or looking like a dog!’ Amina screeched. At this, Fluffy, her dog, jumped up and started to bark.
‘She’s mad,’ Sankar said to his wife. ‘She must be coming up for her monthly bleeding to start – and you know what that means. We have to do it, whether she likes it or not.’
‘Your father is right. If you start your bleeding in this house, we’ll have more bad luck, and I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I shouldn’t have promised you.’
Devinia sat crumpled up in the hammock in tears, babbling on about the bad luck they’d already had that year, and how she’d been wrong to promise Amina she could continue at school. And she was to blame for Amina believing she could become a teacher, when she knew it was impossible for a woman to get a teaching job, let alone an Indian woman.
‘Didn’t I say you are a fool to put your trust in any headmaster!’ Sankar was livid.
‘But it’s the headmaster who knows everything,’ Amina replied equally angrily. ‘He’s the one teaching things about the world that you yourself know nothing about.’
‘And he’s teaching you this kind of disrespect for your parents? Is that because we are coolies?’ Sankar’s teeth were clenched so tight, that the words were barely escaping. ‘And you expect me to keep sending you there?’
‘It’s no good talking back to your father like that,’ Devinia whimpered. ‘He cares for you. You have gone this far because I didn’t teach you about our traditions.’
‘There is no hope for us Indians in this place,’ Sankar said. ‘The white man has tricked us, bringing us to this slave country where the black workers would slave no more. We are the new slaves. Nothing to do with what kind of hair we have – straight or curly. It’s about working for the white man in the cane fields for a pittance, living worse than dogs, and not even a sick man has the right to take to his bed for a few hours without getting thrown in jail for malingering. Whether you can see that or not,’ he glared at Amina, ‘I am not letting my own daughter fall into that trap. It has to be the Indian way!’
‘You’re not seeing that education is the only way out of that trap?’ Amina said, looking directly into her father’s eyes. ‘Let me show you, Pa. Let me do it my way.’
‘No!’ Sankar yelled. ‘It must be the Indian way for dharma to protect you. Thousands of years of tradition are not to be sneezed at and wiped away on your sleeve. We all have a part to play in this world. Parents have a duty, and children have theirs. Give us the room to do our duty and not disrupt the whole of the universe. Then karma will pay you good rewards. Let that be the end of it. But let me ask you this. Do you see your mother sitting down and reading storybooks instead of cooking, or sweeping the yard, or planting the rice and milking the cow? Eh? You take it all for granted! All we ask is that you obey us, and keep the traditions. That way, dharma will keep working for us. How is it that with all these books you’re reading you cannot understand such a simple thing? We have a wedding to prepare for within the next twelve months, and we have a lot to do.’
‘You had better go and bathe and get ready for bed,’ Devinia said. ‘I’ll light a lamp and bring it up.’
Exhausted, Amina turned and left them, defaulting to obedience, a habit learnt since her illness, and a necessity if she was to ever recover. She went to the bathroom at the back of the house and had a cold bath that night. There was no pot of boiling water waiting for her, no special treatment. As she bathed, something strange began to happen inside her, like a bird fluttering, battering itself against the walls to escape.
That night when she was almost asleep, she relived a memory of wading in the breaking waves at four years old, with her father and mother, who stood in their rolled-up trousers and hitched-up skirt. She had felt safe standing between them, before a stronger wave rose and broke, tearing her from their grip and throwing her face down in the salty foam, and dragging her completely under the sandy, soapy wash. She had felt her body rise and fall with the power of the sea, stones settling under her chest, forcing out the air; a sensation distancing her from reality, like the day that drew her into the tunnel of light. But she had survived then, and she would survive now. Her inner strength would see her through.
TEN
Amina woke at dawn the next day gasping for air. Her bedroom felt like a jail, dark and hostile. She went outside and washed in water from the barrel, cooled by the darkness of the moon, then flew upstairs to dress. Her mother appeared at the door, her eyes red and swollen.
‘Wait for food. And your brother,’ she said.
‘I’m meeting Sumati for breakfast today. She invited me to her house.’
Amina hated to lie, but she hated the confinement of the home even more, and the dependence that had bonded her to her mother since her illness. She was determined to change all that. The girl hurried off shivering, through the haze of pink light strewn across the sandy path up the side of the house. A cat crossed her path. The gravel road was quiet apart from dogs barking at each other between yards. The dappled sunlight lit her face when she spotted Meena, Ramona’s mother, walking up to the standpipe with a bundle of washing. She smiled at Amina.
‘You have a face full of sunlight jewels,’ Meena said.
Amina gasped in surprise. Meena was usually as bitter as a mouthful of seawater. She no doubt was being kind because of the typhoid, the girl told herself as she hurried down to Sumati’s house to ask for a blade. There was something they had to do.
Sumati spotted Amina from the open window through the leaves of the hog-plum tree at the front of the house.
‘Come down to the beach with me,’ Amina called up to her in a low voice. ‘And bring a knife with you.’
‘Girl, that sounds like my kind of day,’ Sumati said, beaming. ‘No school.’
‘It’s just for a walk. Not all day. And hurry.’
Sumati disappeared for a few minutes before returning outside, dressed and with her hair in one long thick plait.
The girls hastened out of the yard, treading cautiously to avoid
snapping the dry twigs. As soon as they were on the road and out of earshot, the two friends spoke at the same time.
‘How come you’re up so early?’ they asked each other, almost together.
Sumati answered first. ‘I couldn’t sleep for thinking about Farouk. If my father finds out, he’ll kill me.’
‘Oh, Sumati! What’s going to happen to us? I want to run away from here.’
‘Why? Are you in love too?’
‘No, far from it! They’ve found me some stupid boy. Rich, they say. They don’t know me at all.’
‘At least they’re thinking about your life. Being poor is not what anybody dreams of – except you,’ Sumati teased her.
‘Do you think that being a teacher will make me poor? I thought we had a pact.’
‘We do. But that doesn’t mean we have to do the same thing, Amina. We will always be friends.’
‘Always. You are my sister. Almost. Where’s the knife? I hope it’s sharp.’
They sat down on the log of a fallen tree, cut the flesh of both their left thumbs and joined the blood that oozed out, looking at each other with pain in their eyes.
‘Hold it tight,’ Sumati said. ‘Till it stops bleeding.’
Amina started to cry. ‘It’s horrible. My parents lied to me. How can I ever trust them again? My father doesn’t care about me at all.’
‘Mine only cares about himself – and how to get rid of me as fast as possible,’ Sumati said, gloomily.
‘He threatened to beat me last night.’
‘What? I always thought he was different. Just goes to show how you never really know people.’
‘I should’ve died. I wish I had now.’ Amina wiped away her tears.
‘Maybe you should ask to meet the boy. At least it will show them you’re trying to see things from their side,’ Sumati suggested tentatively.
‘You think? I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.’
‘It will buy you some time.’
‘I need to talk to Mr Clifford, and do the evening classes. But I can’t tell them. What about you?’
‘I told you. I’m in love.’
‘Maybe you should talk to your mother about how you feel about Farouk. Your mother will most likely understand. Or you could just come to evening classes and we could go into teaching together.’
‘Or we could just spend the day down by the beach.’
‘As much as I want to, today is just my second day back at school.’
The girls turned around and walked, dragging their heels and kicking at the weeds that grew out of the white sand at the sides of the road. They reached up and picked a few Portugals from the low branches, then peeled and ate the small oranges as they strolled. Children overtook them, barefoot on the sharp gravel but in uniform. Others clip-clopped in wooden sappats, laughing as they went by.
‘I think you should talk to your mother instead of your father,’ Sumati said. ‘She will understand. You’re bright and you don’t like boys. Not like me. I’ve liked boys since I was eleven.’
As they reached the school gates, the bell rang, and everyone ran in line.
‘Amina!’ Sumati whispered loudly. ‘I’d marry him if he asked me!’
‘QUIET IN THE LINES!’ Mr Mortimer, their class teacher, bellowed behind them.
Sumati jumped. Both girls straightened themselves to attention.
‘I don’t know what some of you are doing in school,’ he continued, scowling at Sumati before he strode off to the front of the assembly, waving his whip and lashing the fabric of his trouser leg.
‘Who does he think he is?’ Sumati muttered in Bhojpuri, their Hindi dialect.
Amina fixed her with a stare, willing her to stop.
‘I am not afraid of him,’ Sumati continued in English, and in a pitch loud enough for Mr Mortimer to turn and look at her.
The lines began moving, and Sumati hissed to her friend, ‘Look! That’s Farouk, in the Standard Six line. But he might be leaving soon. Like Rajnath, the one that Mr Clifford forced to leave last term, because he got into trouble with Mortimer a few times. Then he got put to teach our class. Yes, Mortimer got his match with Rajnath.’ She grinned.
Amina had no idea who Rajnath was, and wasn’t going to ask, because she noticed that Mr Mortimer had his eyes on both of them. As they reached the entrance of the class space, the teacher suddenly pulled Sumati from the line and shoved her against the wall, and Amina had a sudden flash of memory about school life at its worst.
‘Get to your seats, the rest of you!’ he yelled, his large hand still across the top of Sumati’s chest.
The lines moved slowly, children hovering, watching while Mortimer switched his hand from Sumati’s neck to the top of her arm and spun her round to face the wall. He pressed his hand between her shoulder-blades, at the same time pulling her skirt high and showing the hem of her pink drawers. He then began striking the girl across the tops of both legs with his fat whip.
Sumati bit her bottom lip hard and didn’t utter a sound. It wasn’t until the fourth slash against her skin in the exact same place that a grunt escaped her lips. After that she began squealing like a pig getting its throat slit before Saturday-morning market. The line trickling inside the school building slowed to a halt, to watch. A beating was not uncommon, but it was unusual for one of the older girls to be punished this way.
‘Somebody help!’ Sumati cried. But no one interfered. The noise didn’t stop. Amina unfroze and flew at Mortimer.
‘Stop!’ she yelled, tugging at his arm as it rose to deliver another blow. ‘A big man like you? Shame on you!’
‘Move out of my way, girl!’ He pushed Amina so hard she went flying and knocked her head against the doorpost. Then he wrestled Sumati towards the classroom, shooing everyone else inside.
‘Shame on you!’ Amina repeated, almost in tears.
‘Just don’t you put a foot out of place,’ Mortimer threatened, sneering down at her. ‘Or you’ll get a dose of the same medicine.’
Sumati limped to her desk, and lowered herself onto one of the wooden benches, her face twisted with pain. Amina was shaking so much that she could barely sit herself. When lessons started, Sumati shuffled uncomfortably, sitting on her hands most of the time. At one point, when Mr Mortimer had his back turned to the blackboard, she got up and left school well before morning break.
At break-time, Amina and her friends collected outside, subdued and incensed.
‘Sumati’s gone home,’ Pryia began.
‘I don’t blame her,’ Chandra said. ‘Who does he think he is?’
‘That’s right!’ Ramona exclaimed, nostrils flared. ‘Although, some people say she looked for it, talking in line.’
‘What people?’ Amina demanded, furiously.
‘Some people like Meena, your mother, Ramona,’ Pryia said to Ramona. ‘She doesn’t like Sumati, does she?’
‘Sumati didn’t deserve that,’ Amina said, hotly. ‘Talking in line or not.’
‘No, but that’s what he did to Rajnath Kamalsingh,’ Chandra said. ‘That’s why he left – because he wasn’t going to take it.’
‘I heard he had some kind of quarrel with Mortimer,’ Pryia added.
‘Who is this Rajnath?’ Amina asked. ‘Is that the big boy who was always getting in trouble? Always in the headmaster’s office?’
‘Yes,’ Chandra replied, nodding. ‘And he was the cricket captain too. He always seemed to be in trouble, but it’s because he wouldn’t stand for people hitting him up.’
‘My mother says Sumati is the kind that will get everybody in trouble,’ Ramona said, sombrely. ‘Ma doesn’t like me having much to do with her. But that’s hard when she lives next door.’
‘Do you think we should go and say something to Mr Clifford?’ Pryia asked.
‘What for?’ Ramona asked. ‘He won’t care. He’s a black man too, like Mortimer.’
‘Mr Clifford’s not like that,’ Amina said, defending him. ‘He’s fair. He cares. And Mortim
er pushed me so hard, I’ve a lump in the back of my head. Just when I’m getting better.’
The girls decided that somebody ought to tell Mr Clifford, and Amina volunteered. Just before the bell rang, Farouk went to ask Amina about the incident between Mortimer and Sumati. She told him what had happened, and asked him if he would go to see Mr Clifford with her.
‘And what good will that do?’ Farouk said. ‘Rajnath was my friend, and felt he was man enough to take on Mortimer, but look where it got him! Clifford made him leave. He told Rajnath it was best he got a job, seeing as he didn’t value education. He wouldn’t believe Rajnath. Even though he was our main man for cricket.’ He wiped his eyes, upset at hearing what had happened to Sumati earlier. He was angry. ‘If I do something, it will get me in trouble – and everybody else around me,’ he said bitterly. ‘Believe me!’
‘Well, I am going to see Mr Clifford at lunchtime,’ Amina said obstinately. ‘Somebody’s got to have the guts to do something.’
Mr Clifford was in his office eating his lunch and reading a book when Amina appeared.
‘Glad to see you back at school,’ he said. ‘Any worries, come and see me.’
‘Sir, I do have a worry. I’m not comfortable about what happened in class this morning.’
‘That? My dear girl, I will not tolerate insolence towards teachers.’
‘I was there, sir. There was no insolence.’
‘Is that so? I’ll have to talk to Mr Mortimer. Get his side.’
‘Sir, I want you to know nothing happened to provoke him. He just flew at her.’
‘Hmm. Still, I have to hear his side of the story. The girl in question . . . ’
‘Sumati Balgobin. She likes school, sir. It’s her parents who are trying to get her married.’
‘Maybe. But she was absent a number of days lately.’
‘But I’m telling you why, sir,’ Amina pleaded.
The Wedding Drums Page 6