Storm Clouds Rolling In

by Ginny Dye

  Sarah returned her smile and reached up to pat Rose’s cheek. “We be havin’ comp’ny t’night.”

  Rose nodded and settled down on one of three crude chairs in Sarah’s tiny clapboard cabin. She wasn’t surprised. Sarah was known as the whole Slave Quarter’s Mama. She was too old to work the fields anymore. Everyday, when the men and women departed to work the tobacco, they left their children in a central area of the quarters. Sarah’s job was to watch over and supervise the “chilun,” as she called them. The children adored her and the other slaves had learned to respect the old woman. “Who’s coming, Mama?”

  “His name be Moses. He be one o’ de Marse’s new ones.” Sarah turned back to poke the glowing coals baking her sweet potatoes. “He be needin’ a friend, t’night.”

  Again Rose just nodded. “What can I do to help, Mama?” She asked every time. She knew the answer by heart.

  “Not a thin’. I have every thin’ ready. Just waitin’ for these taters to be done cookin’.”

  “I brought you something, Mama.” Rose reached into the deep pocket of her brightly colored calico dress and pulled out a carefully folded linen napkin. She pulled the corners back to reveal a half dozen, freshly baked rolls. Laying them out on the rough table, she dug into the other pocket. “Miss Carrie sent these to you. She said to tell you she hopes you’re doing well.” Her second digging movement brought forth a small jar of plum preserves. She smiled and deposited them next to the rolls. Everyone knew how much her Mama loved rolls and preserves.

  “Bless her!” Sarah’s response was quick and fervent. “She be a good chile’. You tell her thanky fer me.” Her eyes rested with pleasure on the gifts laid out before her but she didn’t move from her place at the fire. Moving her hand deftly, she flipped the taters one last time, and then poked them to pull them from the coals. “Dey be just right now.”

  Rose smiled. “Everything is always just right, Mama. There isn’t anyone that can cook like you. I may eat fancier food up at the big house but it’s never as good as yours.” Rose gave her Mama a quick hug and kissed the top of her head tenderly.

  Just then a tentative knock came at the door. Rose swung the door open and took a startled step backward. She had never seen anyone the size of the young giant who filled the doorway. For a moment she was speechless - and a little frightened. His huge form blocked out all sunlight trying to squeeze through the door.

  “Welcome, Moses. Come on in, boy.”

  Still silent, Rose stepped aside to let him enter. Rose watched him carefully as he moved gracefully into the cabin. She liked the tender way he looked at her Mama. She recognized the pain in his eyes; she had seen it many times in the faces of new slaves. Moses might be a giant but his heart was just like theirs. She felt her heart begin to calm.

  Sarah took control. “Sit over dere ,Moses. Like you to meet my girl. This be Rose.”

  Rose smiled gently as Moses nodded his head in her direction. “Howdy.”

  “Hello, Moses. It’s good to meet you. I’m glad you could join us for dinner.”

  She almost smiled when his friendly gaze faded to be replaced by dark suspicion. Rose understood. She knew she didn’t talk like the rest of the slaves. Her speech distinguished her as being one of the house slaves. As such, she was open to suspicion. It was not uncommon for house slaves to spy and tell on the lower “field slaves”.

  Sarah read his look and moved closer to put a hand on his shoulder. “Moses come from de Smith place.”

  Roe felt compassion, but understood when Moses looked down. He didn’t want their pity.

  Sarah’s leathery hand tightened its grip on his shoulder. “She be alright, Moses. She can be trusted.” Her words, soft and tender, hung in the air for just a moment, warring with the fear and doubt that was an everyday part of plantation life.

  Rose watched closely as the final bright rays of sun streamed through the still-open door of the cabin. Her Mama had the magic that could always find a crack in the walls people put around their hearts. She smiled as Moses relaxed under her soothing touch.

  It was enough to satisfy Sarah who clapped her hands together in delight and moved back toward the fire. “Food be ready. I’se sho nuff hungry.”

  Moses smiled then - a big smile that lit his face and brought his pain-filled eyes to life. “My Mama used to say de same thing. Ever’ time it be time to eat.” For a moment the pain welled in his eyes and cracked his voice.

  Rose, watching from the fireplace didn’t know what to say. She was too busy feeling something – what? When the big man had smiled it seemed to explode right into her heart. She wanted to make him smile again. She wanted to make him laugh with enough joy to squeeze the unbearable pain from his eyes. And she wanted to cradle his head close to her bosom. Suddenly the room was too small. She could do nothing but stand still as the confusion of feelings swept over her like a sudden spring squall. Where were these feelings coming from? Was she going crazy?

  “Rose? You all right, girl?” Sarah’s concerned voice broke in on her thoughts.

  Rose shook her head slightly and tried to bring the room back in focus. “I’m fine, Mama.” Forcing herself to smile lightly, she moved to where Sarah was laying supper on the table. “I’m hungry enough to eat half of this myself!”

  “Moses might hab sumpin to say bout dat, girl!”

  Roses glanced up into the big dark eyes regarding her just as a deep chuckle rumbled from his throat. Confusion gripped her throat once more as she looked quickly back at the table. What in the world was going on? She had never responded this way to someone before. Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to regain control. She managed to keep her hand from shaking as she reached for the rolls laid out on the napkin. “Care for some rolls, Moses?” She was relieved that her voice sounded natural.

  Gradually the tension in the cabin subsided. The warmth of the fire as it cast a soft glow over the room seemed to bring a spell of peace as well. No one spoke as the food rapidly disappeared. Outside, day retreated as night staked its claim. The songs of birds abated and were replaced by a chorus of tree frogs heralding the newly arrived spring. Even when the last crumb of food was gone no one spoke. All were loath to break the spell.

  Moses stared deeply into the flames of the fire. Where was his family? Were they eating tonight? Had his sisters found any friends? Was his Mama okay? Not knowing was tearing at his soul. Yet, he was aware of a strange peace soothing the raw pain. He didn’t understand it. But he welcomed it. He needed it.

  “You need ta be careful here, Moses.” Sarah’s gentle voice finally reached out to break the spell. Moses said nothing, just turned his dark eyes to question her. “Dat Adams be a mean one.”

  Moses just nodded. He’d known that from the moment the overseer’s calculating grey eyes had fixed on him. “Meanness ain’t nothin’ new ta me.”

  Sarah had more to say. “Dis place ain’t like where you come from. Marse Cromwell be a good man. We be slaves, dat be fo sho, but we get treated good. We eat good. There ain’t be no beatings around here either. Least, not many...” Her voice trailed away.

  “Then why you be telling me to be careful?”

  Sarah stood up to poke the coals of her fire and add another log. She seemed to be choosing her words while her back was turned to them. Finally she swung around. “De overseer at Smith. His name be Joe Adams?”

  Moses nodded, sudden understanding making his stomach clinch.

  “Our Adams be his brother.”

  Moses closed his eyes and groaned.

  Roses turned to her Mama in protest. “But it’s different here, Mama. They don’t do things the same way the Smith Plantation does. It’s better here.”

  Sarah nodded. “Yeah, girl, it be better. But men be men. And pride be a right powerful thing. Joe Adams was a big man - what wid all dem slaves he controlled. He done lost all dat. Lot of people gonna figure it ta be his fault. Blood and hate be a mighty strong link. Dem two brothers share that link. So far the Marse
has kept Adams here under control. De hate be growing in his heart, tho. One day it gonna spill on over. You can be sho he knows where Moses done come from. Just be careful, boy. You done had too much hate spill out on ya.”

  Moses just nodded wearily. He was used to hate spilling out into his life. He had known little else. He certainly didn’t know what he could do to stop it. It was just part of being a slave. It would never change.

  “There has to be a way to make sure nothing happens, Mama. I can talk to Miss Carrie. We’ll figure out something.” Rose’s voice held a hint of panic.

  “Miss Carrie ain’t found her own self ‘nuff yet to take on de likes of Adams. Someday, if I don’t miss my guess, she will. But she ain’t ready yet.” She turned to Moses. “You just be careful. Ya needed to know.”

  Somber silence filled the room until Rose began to tell him about life on the plantation. He pushed aside thoughts of Adams and listened closely. The more he knew, the easier it would be to adjust to his new existence.

  It was almost time to put a new log on the fire when Moses broke into her recital. “You don’t talk like de rest of us. Don’t much talk like a house servant either.”

  Rose shook her head shyly. “I don’t guess I do.” She hesitated. “I can read and write.”

  Moses couldn’t hide his surprise. “But... but... dat be...” He stopped, not sure how to continue.

  “Illegal?” Rose asked with a smile.

  “Well - ain’t it?”

  “Yes.” Rose allowed the silence to linger for a moment and then leaned forward to talk in a conspiratorial tone. “I learned with Miss Carrie. The Marse thought I quit learning a long time ago. I still feel like I’ve just begun!” The glow in her eyes was not a mere reflection of the fire. Moses watched quietly as her heart and soul came to life - flamed with the heat of her passion. “It didn’t always used to be illegal, Moses. There was a time when most slave owners made sure their slaves could read and write.” Rose read the look of disbelief on Moses’ face. “It’s true! It all stopped, though, when the North started sending down literature about setting us free. The white people were afraid that if all of us started reading that material that we would all run away or fight for our freedom. So they made it against the law to teach your slaves how to read and write. And they made it against the law for slaves to have anything written.”

  Moses felt a bit of admiration but then he shrugged. “So what? Reading and writing ain’t gonna do nothin’ fer me. I ain’t never gonna be nothin’ but a slave. What reason I got to learn dat stuff?”

  “You don’t always have to be a slave, Moses.”

  Moses stared at her, wondering if she wasn’t quite right in her mind. “What you be talkin’ bout, girl?”

  Silence filled the cabin as Rose hesitated. Was it his imagination or did he see fear in her eyes? The silence stretched into the deep corners of the cabin. Finally, Rose looked up at her Mama. The calm, steady gaze and gentle nod was all she seemed to need.

  “I have a school, Moses. A small school that meets secretly on Sunday nights. I can teach you how to read and write.”

  “Why fer? Why do I need to know that stuff fer? You ain’t answered dat question yet.”

  Rose hesitated again. “I can’t answer that question yet, Moses. I trusted you enough to tell you about the school. You’re going to have to trust me when I say you don’t always have to be a slave. When that day comes you’re going to have to be ready. Being able to read and write will mean everything to you.”

  Moses stared into her flashing eyes. What he saw there reassured him. She wasn’t crazy. And she believed what she was saying. “I don’t know if I can learn dat readin’ and writin’.”

  Sarah spoke from the shadows. “I didn’ think I could learn either, boy.”

  Moses swung to stare at the wrinkled, old lady in wonder. “You know how ta read and write?”

  The light in her eyes was answer enough. Sarah rose from her chair, moved to a shelf by her bed, and reached up into the shadows. She pulled down a large book and made her way back to the fire. Then, laying her find on the table, she added two more logs to the fire. She settled back into her chair and waited until the crackling flames added new light to the cabin. Only then did she reach for the book and break the silence. “I learned ta read just for this. I still don’t talk good but I sho ‘nuff can read!”

  Moses watched in silence as Sarah picked up the large book and leafed through the pages. Finally she found what she was looking for.

  “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

  Sarah’s soothing voice vibrated firmly throughout the cabin as she read. Lovingly, she closed the book and fixed her eyes on him. “I learned to read so I’se could read my Bible!” Triumph and victory resonated in her voice.

  “The Bible!” Scorn ripped through the air as Moses struggled with the anger threatening to consume him. “White man’s religion!” For a moment he had the wild thought of ripping the book from the old lady’s hands and throwing it into the fire.

  Sarah merely waited while Moses fixed his eyes on her. An almost palpable peace reached out to him from the old lady’s face; her very serenity offered him a place to deposit his anger. Slowly the rage dissipated and control returned. Taking a deep breath, Moses settled back into his chair.

  Only then did Sarah speak again. “You’ve had a passel of hurt poured into yer life, boy. You been beat - both inside and out. You got a right ta be angry. But yer hurt been caused by men, Moses. God neber did hurt you. It be men who ripped your heart out. It be men who made you wish nothin’ more den ta die and get it over with. It be men who sold yer family and left you all alone. God neber did that. He wants to help you, Moses. He wants to take all that dark bitterness out o’ yo heart and pour in his mighty love. Ain’t nothin’ can take God from you, Moses.”

  Moses had heard all he could take. Just the mention of God made his blood boil.

  Sarah had time for one more statement. “That dark bitterness ain’t gonna hurt no one but you, Moses. One day it will eat all dat’s left o’ your heart. Then you won’t be a man anymore. You be just a shell.”

  Moses struggled to fight the fury rising in his throat. If she only knew... Suddenly, it was important she did know. Only then would she understand. He jumped up from his chair and ripped off the plain muslin shirt covering his massive chest and back.

  “Don’t talk to me ‘bout de white man’s religion. This is what it do ta niggers!” he cried.

  Silence filled the tiny cabin as the crackling flames illuminated the crisscross of swollen scars and welts turning his back into a dried mud flat.

  Moses continued, keeping his voice low and controlled. “My first master did dis ta me. I was eleven years old. I had just watched my Daddy be hung in de woods after trying ta run ta freedom. They caught him, brung him back, and hung him from a tree while I be watching. Dey told him he would die the only way an animal deserved to die. Then they came after the rest of us. My Mama was waitin’. She knew it wouldn’t do no good ta run. She had to watch while all of us - my sisters, too - were strapped to the whippin’ post. Den it was her turn. All of us had to watch while they beat my Mama. She almost died dat day. I’m sho she wished she had.”

  Sarah waited quietly, tears glistening in her shining eyes. Rose wept quietly.

  Moses stared into the fire. “When they were done, they told us they’d done it for our own good. That the only way fer us ta make it ta heaven was to repent of our sins. They were helpin’ us
repent. If they punished us, God wouldn’t have to punish us so much when it be his turn... One of my sisters died. Carmen was too little… She couldn’t take it...” His voice broke in a sob as his mighty shoulders slumped before the terrible memory. Broken, Moses sunk into his chair.

  Sarah was immediately at his side. Her work worn hand gently stroked his bowed head. Time seemed to stand still as the pain of generations past marched through the cabin. It was as if the voices of all slaves who had ever lived - and suffered - were crying to be heard in Moses’ words.

  Softly, Sarah began to speak. “Thirty years ago, Africa was my home. I had a fine man and two little girl chil’un. One day our village was attacked by another tribe. My man and chil’un were killed in the fightin’. All in the village were killed ‘cept the women. They tied leather thongs ‘round our necks and connected us ta each other in long lines. We left what was left of our village and marched through the jungle for a lot of days. I lost track of time. We barely had food and water to keep us alive. Beatin’s were common...”

  Moses looked up as Sarah took a breath. “Why...?

  Sarah shook her head and continued. “Big boats was waitin’ fer us. But first we had to pass de inspection. We had heard rumors in our village about white men stealing people away, but we didn’t think it could be true. We figured we be safe in our village…” Her voice caught with the memory. “There were so many of us there dat day. We all had to strip naked and be examined - every part of us. Some didn’t pass that ‘spection. Dey were de lucky ones. I made it. Before they loaded us on dem big boats they put a brand on us. We all had dem brands - to let folks know someone owned us now.”

  Sarah’s voice deepened. “A lot of us didn’t make it over on the boat. Them men on the ship figured we would try to get free so all of us got put in the bottom of the ship. There weren’t much air and even less food and water. They had to carry the dead out ever’ morning. There was hardly room to sit. Never did lay down for that whole trip across the big ocean.” Sarah’s voice wavered again as she relived the memories, and then strengthened. “Some people killed themselves. One woman had her baby on dat boat. Didn’t want her baby to live through dat. When no one was watching she jumped over board with her baby and drowned herself. Right then, I was sho wishing it could have been me.”