by Daniel Black
“You right,” Sarah Jane conceded. “You absolutely right.” She didn’t want to surrender to Ray Ray’s tirade, but his points were too salient to argue. “Just don’t do nothin’ stupid, Ray,” she pleaded.
Ray Ray stomped off the porch toward the barn. Chop began to follow.
“Leave him alone,” Sarah Jane called. “He need time to cool down.”
Chop swaggered around the front yard until an idea came to him. “I’ll b-b-b-b-be rrrrrrright b-b-back,” he told Sarah Jane, and ran to the rear of the house.
Chop stepped onto the back porch where Clement’s body lay. At first, he was afraid, but then he remembered Miss Mary telling him, “Dead folks can’t hurt you. It’s de live ones you’d better worry about!” so he relaxed and approached the corpse with uncanny boldness.
He frowned at the strong stench, comparing it to a thousand rotten, spoiled catfish, then unwrapped only enough cloth to see the head.
“Hey, Cllllllement,” Chop said, standing next to the cooling board. He examined the evening, wondering if God were listening.
“Yo mmmmmmomma ssssay ain’t g-g-g-gon b-b-be no fffffuneral in Mmmmississippi ’cccccause shshshe ain’t lllllllleavin’ her chchchild in d-d-dis rrracist plllace. Shshshe say shshe g-g-g-gon t-t-ttake you b-b-back to Chicag-go and lllllet de wwwwworld ssssseee what rrrracist wwwwwhite folks in Mmmmmississippi d-d-d-did to her b-b-b-baby.”
He paused as though Clement might respond.
“B-b-b-b-but b-before you g-g-g-g-go, I g-g-gotta tttttalk to you ’b-b-b-b-bout ssssssssomethin’. It’s rrrrreal important.” He folded his arms. The single eye in Clement’s bloated head stared back at him.
“I d-d-don’t know wwwwwhat happened to yyyyyyyou, but it musta b-b-b-been real b-b-bad,” he said. “And Grrrrrranddaddy rrrreal mad.”
Chop looked away from the eye, which was beginning to disturb his solid resolve.
“Sssssomethin’ gon’ happen, Cllllement. I fffeel it. Whhhhen Grrrrranddaddy lllooked at d-d-dem white mens today after ththththey t-t-t-told him whwhwhat happened to yyyyou, I could t-t-tell he wwwwuz ththththththinkin’ somethin’. I d-d-d-didn’t ask him whwhwhat he wwwwwuz thththinkin’ ’c-c-c-cause he wwwwuz so mad, but I ain’t nnnnneva ssssssseen G-g-granddaddy look lllllike d-dd-dat b-b-befo’.”
Chop breathed heavily again, like Jeremiah before he began to snore, then he stared at Clement.
“Granddaddy always ssssay d-d-dat when peoples d-d-d-die, they b-b-become spirits who c-c-c-can help us out whwhwhenever wwwwwe nnnnneed th-them to. Yyyyyou d-d-dead, ain’t chu, Clement?”
Chop reached to touch Clement’s warped nose, but decided against it.
“Well, ssssssince yyyyyou d-d-dead, yyyyyou gotta help us out. I d-d-d-don’t wwwwant nothin’ happenin’ to Grrrranddaddy or Daddy or nnnnnobody else, but I know thththey ththinkin’ ssssssomethin’. Sssssarah Jane scared, too, Cccccccclement. Sssssshe feel whwhwhwat I feel. D-d-d-did yyyyyyyou sssssssee Grrrrrandma scrrrrreamin’ to d-d-dem white mens? I ain’t neva ssssssseen no Nnnnnnegro scrrrrrream at nnnno whwhwhite man b-b-befo’, and shshshe wunnit even scared!” Chop smiled pridefully.
“I gggget a ffffeelin’ sssssssssomethin’ real bad ffffixin’ to happen, Cllllement. I-I-I wuz jjjes hopin’ yyyyyyou could help iiif it d-d-do.”
Chop felt a presence and chill bumps sprouted all over his little arms. He gazed at his unrecognizable cousin again and allowed himself to feel the anger he had tried to deny.
“Mmmmaybe ssssssomethin’ need to happen,” he murmured as vengeance crept into his heart. “Wwwwwe always d-d-dyin’ ’cause o’ sssssomethin’ wwwwwe d-d-d-did thththat ththththey d-d-don’t lllllike, b-b-b-but whwhwhy d-d-d-don’t thththey die whwhwhen ththey d-do stuff wwwwwe don’t llllike?” Chop sniffled.
“Yyyyyyyyou knnnnnnnnow whwhwhwhwhwhat, Clllllllllle-ment?” Chop said from an overflowing heart. “Jjjjes help us ooout iiif G-g-god llllet you. Sssssince Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrranddaddy ain’t sssssssscared and Grrrrrrrrrrandma ain’t ssssssscared, I-I-I-I-I-II-I-I-I-I-I-I ain’t sssscared neither!”
When Chop’s voice broke, he knew he had said enough. He studied Clement’s face, unable to discern how it had gotten so distorted. With the four fingers of his small, soft right hand, he caressed Clement’s ruffled forehead, and closed his eyes, trying to remember what his cousin looked like only days earlier. The inundation of tears streaming down his cheeks didn’t embarrass him like usual. When he leaned over and kissed Clement’s enlarged cheek, he felt energy issue forth from his lips, and he smiled to know that Clement had understood.
“Whwhwhatever happen, Clllllement, jes help us out. Llllllike Grandma always sssssssay, ‘We a fffffamily, wwwwwe always b-bb-been a family, and we gon always b-b-b-be a fffffamily.’”
Chop replaced the covering over the corpse but did not leave. He thought about what Jeremiah and Miss Mary must have felt while Jerry was lying on this same board and now he wondered how they had been so kind to him and everyone else after having suffered so dearly. He prayed quickly that Aunt Possum had the staying power of his grandparents, and whispered, “Sssssseeya” as he walked into the house.
Seventeen
JEREMIAH REMAINED SILENT UNTIL EVERYONE ARRIVED. HE simply nodded his acknowledgments and smiled wryly in anticipation of the idea he was about to offer.
Some whispered, “What’s wrong wit Mi? He actin’ mighty strange,” but no one could have guessed the contents of his heart.
The barn was full of colored people again, for the second time in a week. Actually, a few extra faces showed up, wondering what colored folks in Money could do about such heinous acts of violence against their children. Pet Moore interrupted the whispering with, “Let’s get started, everybody. We need y’all to listen and pay ’tention to what you hear. This is a serious matter.” He shook his head sadly and took a seat as Jeremiah rose.
Like that of a feared dictator, the old man’s presence hushed the chatty audience. His smile transformed to one of hope, yet everyone sensed it more as warning than warmth. Before he spoke, Jeremiah looked at every attendee knowing that what he was about to say would either draw them near or drive them away, yet he was prepared to stand alone if necessary.
“Usually, in times like these, we pray first,” he said, with a slight chuckle.
“Amen,” the crowd responded.
“But not this time. We ain’t prayin’ ’bout nothin’!” Jeremiah slammed one fist into the other.
“Oh Lord!” Miss Mary murmured. Others frowned in fear.
“I ain’t askin’ God fu nothin’!” He reiterated, “’Cause God done told me what to do. He been tellin’ us since we met these racist bastards, and they keep killin’ our chillen ’cause we scared to do what we shoulda done years ago.” Jeremiah’s chuckle turned into a deep laughter. He was practically hollering.
“Yep!” he belted, “it’s time. I’m sick o’ prayin’, I’m sick o’ hopin’, I’m sick o’ grinnin’, I’m sick o’ turnin’ de otha cheek, I’m sick o’ bowin’ down to white chillen half my age, I’m sick o’ believin’ they gon change, and I’m goddamn sick o’ buryin’ my own chillen!” His harsh language, which clearly troubled many, didn’t disturb him in the least.
“Don’t y’all git it?” He laughed heartily. “God ain’t comin’ to do nothin’! He ain’t comin’!” Jeremiah snickered like one who finally gets the punch line of a joke. “White folks been laughin’ for years, y’all! They been watchin’ us pray and do nothin’, and that’s how they keep rulin’ our lives. They know God don’t do nothin’ if you don’t! We de stupid ones been sittin’ round havin’ prayer meetin’s and then we go home like God is gon come down from the sky and change our situation. God’s laughin’ at this bullshit!”
“Jeremiah Johnson!” Miss Mary whispered. “Is you done lost yo’ mind!”
“No, ma’am, I ain’t!” he answered with a wide grin. “In fact, I done found it. I ain’t neva been mo’ sho’ o’ nothin’ in all my seventy-odd years!”
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sp; Jeremiah trembled, and Miss Mary could do nothing but let him have his say. The fire in his eyes told her to leave him alone.
“Don’t y’all git it?” Jeremiah repeated. “God waitin’ on us! We ain’t waitin’ on Him! He done give us strength and power in numbers. All we gotta do is act. But we been so scared o’ these bastards that we done convinced ourselves they cain’t fall ’cause they so strong and mighty. Shit! They’ll fall jes like any otha man! They blood is red, too! Y’all didn’t know that, did ya?”
No one dared speak. Only Pet Moore affirmed Jeremiah’s words with occasional “uh-huhs” and “amens.”
Jeremiah began to pace between people’s chairs. “This is really very simple,” he said more calmly. “I ain’t crazy, y’all. Everybody in dis room know me, been knowin’ me all my life. I’m jes tellin’ you what God told me yesterday after Mr. Rosenthal and Patrick brung my grandson’s body back. I sat down and, for de first time in my life, I didn’t ask God to do nothin’. I asked God why He hadn’t done what I already asked Him, and He told me, plain as day, ‘I been waitin’ on you.’ ‘Waitin’ on me to do what?’ I asked confused, and God said, ‘Waitin’ on you to use yo’ own strength to keep folks from killin’ yo’ own people. When yo’ strength run out is where I come in.’ That’s when I finally got it. We been askin’, but we ain’t been fightin’. How we gon send God to fight a battle we ain’t even in? Huh?”
Jeremiah was screaming again. Some people applauded his clarity as though they, too, had been needing it a lifetime. “Go ’head, prophet!” Pet Moore roared.
“So we ain’t hyeah today to ask God fu nothin’! We don’t need to ask God fu nothin’, ’cause God done already gave us what we need! We hyeah today to see who bold enough to fight to save colored people’s lives! It’s dat simple. Long as we allow white folks to kill us and we don’t do nothin’ ’bout it, God ain’t gon do nothin’ either. And now I know why! And I don’t blame Him ’cause if a people too scared to fight for theyselves, they ain’t fit to live!
“Dat’s right!” Aunt Sugar mumbled. “Dat ain’t nothin’ but right!”
“So what you sayin’, Mi?” someone asked from deep in the crowd. “You sayin’ we spose to go fight dese white folks now?”
“No!” Jeremiah said. “I ain’t sayin’ we oughta go fight dese white folks now! I’m sayin’ we shoulda done it years ago! We late as hell, but late is better than neva ’cause it’s plenty more young peoples ’round hyeah, and I’ll be goddamn if they kill another one!”
“Amen!” several shouted.
Seeing that many were still skeptical, Jeremiah said, “Don’t wait ’til you have to bury yo’ own before you stand for what’s right. That’s how they git us, too. Don’t nothin’ really move us ’til it come directly befo’ us. But by then, you buryin’ yo’ loved ones and cryin’ ’cause ain’t nothin’ you can do. Let’s do somethin’ while we can.”
“But what can we do?” Miss Gladys asked. “We sho cain’t fight ’em.”
“Why cain’t we?” Jeremiah pondered. “We got fists, and we got guns, and we know how to use both of ’em. We fight each other! So why cain’t we fight them?”
Pet Moore murmured, “Dat’s a damn good point. I ain’t neva thought about it that way.”
“I ain’t sayin’ we go over there and start shootin’,” Jeremiah explained with his hands. “I’m sayin’ we go over there like a army, standin’ tall and strong, and make them know that if they ever, and I mean ever, come in our community again like they gon take somebody out of it, they better prepare to die. Simple as that.”
Enoch asked, “What if they attack us right then?”
“Then we commence to whippin’ their white asses!” Jeremiah shouted. “We ain’t goin’ over there without our weapons! Come on! Let’s not be foolish here. White folks in Mississippi don’t respect nobody colored. We already know that. So it would be mighty stupid of us to confront them unarmed. We certainly hope we don’t have to use no guns, but we sho gon take ’em with us just in case. If they would listen to sound reasoning and compassion, we wouldn’t be in the situation we in right now.”
“What if they start shootin’?” Miss Mary cried.
“We shoot back! Shit!” Jeremiah yelled. “That’s the only way they’ll respect us. Right now they know we too scared to shoot back, but if we ever show ’em we ain’t, they’ll think twice—or three times—about killin’ a Negro. Right now, they kill us ’cause they know we ain’t gon do nothin’ ’bout it! I jes want us to teach them that there’s a new Negro in town!”
“Amen!” people cheered.
“But don’t git me wrong,” Jeremiah warned. “I don’t want bloodshed all over Money, Mississippi, any more than you do, but if blood is gon be shed, it ain’t gon be no mo’ colored chillen’s blood. Not no mo’! Not if I can help it!”
Uneasy murmuring filled the barn. Jeremiah glanced around to see if anyone was prepared to stand with him. Their silence evoked another point.
“When these white bastards raped and killed my daughter years ago, I shoulda stood up then, but I was too scared. I let my boy go over there all by hisself, and they showed him what they do to a Nigga who stand alone. I ain’t neva forgave myself for that. But when they brought Clement here yesterday, lookin’ like somebody had done run over his face, I promised Jerry that I’d do somethin’ different. All this Black life we jes keep givin’ up like it don’t mean nothin’ to us”—he paused to see if others felt his sentiment—“gotta stop, y’all. Don’t y’all see what they doin’? They kill de strong and leave the scared! The only way to change things is fu the scared to get strong. Then, the only way to destroy us is to kill every one o’ us, and if they do that, shame on us!
“Tomorrow I’m goin’ over there, and I’m gon stand proud, but I cain’t go by myself’cause that’s what happened to my boy. I need y’all wit me. We gotta look like a army o’ ants comin’ down de road, and they gotta know they ain’t dealin’ wit de same colored people we used to be. So what y’all say?”
“Count me in!” Pet Moore threw his right arm high into the air.
No one else responded. Pet struggled to stand, and offered, “How did we git so scared?” He looked around. “All of us done buried somebody who was raped or hanged or shot or molested by these white folks. Is dat why y’all scared? Y’all think they’ll come back for you if you say or do somethin’?”
The people sat like obedient children before a tyrannical teacher. Pet and Jeremiah gazed at each other and shook their heads.
Suddenly, Ray Ray screamed, “I’m goin’!” and ran to his grandfather’s side.
“You ain’t goin nowhere, boy!” Ella Mae corrected, reaching toward him.
“I gotta go, Momma,” Ray Ray said. “Clement was my age, so that coulda been me. I ain’t no little kid no more, Momma. I gotta—”
“No!” she demanded. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, I said!” Miss Mary was holding her with all her might.
“He can go,” Enoch said sternly, and stood beside Ray Ray.
“Are you crazy, man?” Ella Mae screeched. “You must be a fool if you think—”
“He goin’ and dat’s all to it. He fourteen, Ella Mae. He a young man now. He cain’t be walkin’ ’round hyeah scared o’ white folks. I don’t want him to be like I wuz.” Enoch put his arm around Ray Ray’s shoulder. “I love my boy jes like you do. I don’t want nothin’ to happen to him neither, but I sho want these peckawoods to know that if they bother this boy, they gon have hell to pay. He’ll be all right.”
Ella Mae turned to Miss Mary and wept as though Ray Ray were already dead.
“I’m goin’!” Aunt Sugar announced freely. “Hell, I ain’t scared o’ no white folks! And what I got to lose? I was jes thinkin’ ’bout how I would feel if somebody came and told me dat one o’ mine had been killed and throwed in de river. I’d be a mad sista, Jeremiah, so, yeah, I’m goin’ wit cha.” She smiled and winked affectionately.
A few others announced thei
r support, but the majority remained uncommitted.
“Y’all can go on home now,” Jeremiah said kindly. “I ain’t mad at nobody, and I ain’t got no hard feelin’s. Like I said, I been scared for seventy-odd years, so I know how hard it is to let go of fear. But I’m goin’ to look these white folks in de face first thang in de mornin’. If de Good Lawd let me live to see it, I’m goin’ over there, and I ain’t gon be scared about it. If jes five or six of us go, so be it. Y’all might be buryin’ me dis time tomorrow, but sho as de sun rise in de mornin’ I’m goin.”
Nobody moved.
“Y’all free to go,” Jeremiah repeated. Folks stared at each other but didn’t leave.
“It ain’t that simple, Mi,” Pet chuckled.
“Why ain’t it?”
“’Cause folks obviously wanna go wit cha. If they didn’t, they woulda left. They jes don’t know how to believe in theyselves.”
“What chu mean they don’t know how? You make a decision, and you do it. That ain’t hard to understand. I ain’t tryin’ to force nobody to do nothin’. I said my piece, and now I’m through.”
“Mi, listen to me,” Pet whispered, standing next to him. “Folks wanna go. They really do.”
“So what they need to make ’em go?” Jeremiah asked.
Pet whispered even more softly, “They need somebody to show ’em how to let go o’ fear.”
“You jes let it go!” Jeremiah murmured loudly. “You make a decision, and you let it go.”
Pet shook his head. “That’s not what happened to you. I don’t know what it was, but somethin’ happened to you yesterday or last night that gave you a boldness you never had before. That’s what they want, Mi. They want that boldness they see on you, but they don’t know where to git it. What happened to you yesterday, Mi? Huh? Tell them that.”
Jeremiah closed his eyes and tears came.
“It’s all right,” Pet said, rubbing Jeremiah’s back. “It’s all right.”