Sycorax's Daughters

by Kinitra Brooks, PhD

  “Mama Akosua!”

  I vaguely recognised the woman with her, but I did not answer her for I was still staring at Luna’s stomach. My legs buckled beneath me. Luna’s cries had quietened at my presence as they had so often when she was a baby. And that was what made rage smoulder through me and erupt into flames; for she was still just a child.

  “I will kill him. I will kill him with my bare hands!” I cried.

  As quickly as the flames had come, they were snuffed out by waves of despair. Tears came and I sank to the cabin floor, the storm raging behind me as Luna’s screams resumed.

  “Mama Akosua, there ain’t no time for this!” Mary (that was the woman’s name) was before me clasping my arms. “Something ain’t right with the baby!”

  In that moment I saw that all the portents of death I had been seeing were pointed at Luna and the baby, my grandchild. I stared at Mary for a few moments, then I wiped away my tears and nodded. I got to my feet.

  I safely delivered my grandchild and took her to the runaways.

  As I placed her in the woman’s arms and watched her stare at the baby in wonder and joy before putting the crying baby to her swollen breast, I realised the portents I had seen that week had also signified life. My grandchild would have a chance at life instead of death as a slave.

  That night I put a curse on my old master. In my rage, wisdom completely abandoned me and instead of killing him, I chose to let him live for many more years. Years of agony and the kind of pain and horror he had visited on my child.

  BRIEF MOMENTS

  Many years passed and I awoke to joy one warm summer’s morning. I got up slowly from my pallet, bending my body to the pain that gripped it. A smile came to my lips. My child would be coming to see me today. She was a woman now, a silent beauty I had seen only a few times over the years whenever she was forced to make the long journey to seek help and the herbs only I could provide. I moved to my cabin door and looked out on the darkness and the other slaves beginning their day. These past few years had been ones of waiting for those brief moments when I saw my child. Although those moments were brief, they were worth all I had given up. I still saw the faces of the children Abraham and me could have had, but I did not regret the choice I had made.

  As I watched the sun break through the darkness to give light to the world, I knew that even when death released me from it, I would not join the others that had gone before me. I knew my daughter would still need me and so my spirit would remain and wait as I had been doing all these years. For now, I could be happy because before the day ended I would see the quiet, cool beauty who was little more than a stranger. Still she was my child, my child.

  To Give Her Whatsoever She Would Ask

  by R. J. Joseph

  Lord, please bless Your humble servant.

  I grew up with prayers, praying every morning with my transplanted American mother and Trinidadian father. We kneeled at night before bed and gave the Lord thanks for each day that we finished. After my parents died, I prayed for their eternal souls. I’d even prayed for the kind of marriage I wanted, and thought I needed.

  My prayer for marriage had dissolved into indifference; however, I didn’t care. My prayers had never been for a husband, specifically, though I knew one to be necessary to bring a child into the world the right way. I’d been a good Christian wife, respecting my husband, and following his lead as head of the household.

  When he wanted me to quit working and tend home, I did it. When he was promoted at his job, I supported him.

  I knew God wanted His children to be happily married, but I also knew that it was likely not His plan for us to be unevenly yoked in misery. When Jorge told me he didn’t love me anymore, he’d already stopped going to church with me and left the room anytime I put gospel music on the stereo. He asked me one last time to pray with him, and I prayed with him; he asked for guidance in the matter of our union and I silently prayed for a baby before he left me.

  My most fervent prayer for a baby grew even more desperate as I crossed the threshold into forty years. All I’d ever wanted were children to nurse and cuddle and raise in the way the Lord desired of His children. I would only borrow them, because a true Christian knew they truly belonged to God.

  By my forty second birthday, it looked like my most passionate pleas would be ignored. I didn’t kneel so often by then. I was already the towns’ crazy old woman. I kept mostly to myself and only went to market and town when absolutely necessary. And I travelled to Mr. Frank’s cottage, down the hill, to work. Mrs. Frank had passed on five years ago, and now he was just waiting to join his wife in heaven.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I suspected that there was no heaven; there was no God to answer prayers. I was tired of praying.

  It was time to try something else.

  I trudged down the hill to work, using the heavy stick I walked with to scout for snakes in the grass before they had a chance to strike. The sun had just settled beneath the horizon, and the island was dark. I wasn’t afraid, although the island folks didn’t need much prompting to discuss their jumbies and other evil night spirits.

  I knew not to stop for strangers, and not to approach strange animals. I had my trusty pocket flashlight to spot predators before they could attack.

  What I had not been prepared for was the large ball of fire that slowly flew over my head. I saw brilliance and expected heat, but instead, there was an icy chill in the wake of the ball. I turned to watch where it would go next, transfixed by the way my womb ached as it passed, and my heart called after it. The ball circled my torso several times. I could hear the coos of a baby, and longed to touch the softness of its skin. I reached out to it and was overwhelmed with dread. I drew my hand back and turned on my flashlight. The ball rose upwards and dissipated.

  I reached Mr. Franks’ house to find him seated on the porch. He seldom came out, so I knew he must have been having a pretty good day.

  “Good night, Ingrid.” “Good night, Mr. Franks.”

  He sucked his teeth. “Look, de spirits flying tonight.” “What are you talking about, Mr. Franks?”

  “I glad you ain’t run into one because it would probably take you away.”

  I thought about the ball of fire, but didn’t tell my employer. “Dey looking for somebody to trick into taking dem on.” His

  eyes gleamed with an unusual fervor.

  “Come now, Mr. Frank. Let’s get your dinner.” I helped him up out of the chair and guided him into the house.

  I usually took my dinner with him, but I had no appetite. I sat by the open window while he slowly ate.

  A soft whimpering floated through the window. I looked at Mr. Franks, but he seemed not to notice it. It came again, louder, with cooing. I stood from the chair and headed to the door.

  “No, Ingrid. Dat’s no baby. Stay here.” “You hear that baby, too?”

  “I hear what pretending to be a baby. Sit down, girl. Don’t go by de door.”

  My feet obeyed him, but my heart filled with anxiety. I twisted my sweaty hands in my lap. I can’t leave that baby out there.

  “Girl, ain’t nobody gonna leave no baby on de doorstep.”

  Mr. Franks eyed me steadily. “I ready for bed, eh? I tired.” With a strength I had not seen from him in years, he pushed his chair back from the table and walked to the door, where he flicked on the porch light.

  On the way to the bedroom, he instructed me to pull some candles from the cupboard and light them.

  I got him dressed and settled into bed and took my regular seat in the chair next to him. The flames flickered from the hallway and across the room.

  “Why didn’t you let me go to the door?” My arms still ached to hold the baby I’d heard.

  “Dat was no baby. Dat was a soucouyant, trying to get you to open de door so she can come inside. She would have sucked you dry after you invite her in.”

  “You believe in those jumbies and thing?” I asked.

  “Yeah, girl,
dey real.” He spoke with conviction, and fell off into a coughing fit.

  “But don’t they grant wishes, too?” I remembered all the stories my parents and town elders had told me my entire childhood. I believed them, too. The evil spirits could be used, if you were smart. Of course, a devout person would never entertain making acquaintance with the spirits, and would instead pray them away.

  “You gotta go look for dem and see where by de river dey leave dey skin, and if you take it, dey gonna beg to get dey skin back so dey grant you a wish.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, and the years old calluses pressed against my skin.

  “But dey is very dangerous. Don’t mess wit dem, girl, please, because you more likely lose your life instead of get any wish. And even if you get a wish, it gonna be a payback.” He squeezed my hand until it hurt. “You hear me girl? Topic done.”

  I sat in silence while Mr. Franks dozed off. He slept fitfully that night, opening his eyes and sitting up and glancing around the room until he saw me still in the chair. Then he would look at the candles, suck his teeth, and doze off again. I didn’t want to alarm him by disappearing, so I didn’t even leave the chair to do my regular nightly chores. Instead, I planned.

  #

  The next night, I left early for work and spotted the ball of fire rising above the trees alongside the river road. It floated towards me and began its slow circle. I didn’t want the longing feeling it created in me, because it left me feeling confused and hurt. I needed it to leave. I only wanted to get to the river side. I turned on my flashlight and pointed it directly at the ball until it repeated its disappearing act. I didn’t know how long it would stay away and I had to complete my search before it came back.

  I headed towards the area where I had seen the ball first rise, and picked my way through the trees. The river side had sudden drop offs into the water, and I didn’t want to risk falling. Once I was deep enough into the brush, I turned my flashlight back on.

  I searched the crevices of several rocks in that area. At the third group of stones, I stuck my hand inside the largest crack and my fingers brushed something that did not have the smooth feel of a rock. I lay the flash light down and reached in with both hands. I pulled out an ornate jar, and even my untrained eye knew it was older than I could imagine. Energy thrummed through my hands where I held it. I pulled off the top and reached inside.

  The object I pulled out was soft to the touch, like silk, but much sturdier. It shone like gossamer in the faint light of the flashlight lying on the ground. I stretched it until the jar was empty. In miniature form, it looked like a tiny human body suit. I crammed it back into the jar and replaced the lid. Then, I tied the jar up inside my skirt, running to Mr. Franks’ house.

  “Girl, you lookin sick. You need to go to your bed?” Mr. Franks eyed me, and I struggled to not let him know what I had been up to.

  I bent my head down and answered, “Yeah, I’m feeling sick.” He stared at me. His eyes practically burned holes into me. “Go on to your bed. I can do fine tonight.”

  Before he could add anything, I walked away quickly, remembering to pause and stumble occasionally as if I were really sick.

  I was too excited to sleep. Instead, I sat on my porch, in the passing night, rubbing the jar like it was my personal wishing lamp. I thought daylight would never come.

  Just as the birds were announcing the approach of dawn, the ball of fire appeared before me. I watched in awe as it shifted and grew into a beautiful woman.

  “You have something of mine. Give it back.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

  “How badly do you want it?” Her beauty did not move me.

  Once she saw that I was going to stand my ground, she showed her true self. Wrinkles as deep as a penny settled on her face.

  Gnarled hands clenched at the ends of veiny arms bent up beside her shriveled breasts.

  “So you desire something of me before I can have my skin back?”

  “I do. I want a baby.”

  Her eyes widened, though I felt she was feigning surprise. “A baby?”

  “Yes. That is my wish.”

  She glanced to her side, towards the river, where the sun was barely approaching the horizon.

  “Fine. I grant you what you wish. Please give me my skin before I perish in the sunlight.”

  I held the jar closer to me. “How do I know you won’t go back on your word?”

  For a moment, her eyes held surprise, then her words came out in a rush. “I am bound to honor our agreement.”

  “I don’t know—” I squinted and focused over her shoulder. I would know the walk of the figure behind her in my sleep. My ex- husband, Jorge, was coming up the hill towards the house. My heart told me I would have my wish, so I threw the jar towards the old woman and stood.

  I didn’t take notice of where she went after Jorge stepped onto the porch. In silence, he kissed me deeply and picked me up. We went to the bedroom that we’d shared as husband and wife. I couldn’t call it lovemaking, since he never said a word and performed the steps as routinely as the sun rises. As soon as we were done, I knew I was pregnant. As quietly as he’d come, Jorge left. I never heard from him again.

  #

  Mr. Franks eyed me as my belly grew larger and I glowed with giddiness.

  He screwed up his face and pointed at the baby jumper I was crocheting. “Why you want to get yourself in dis pickle with de child?” He sucked his teeth. “Dey don’t do nothin, but leech off you.”

  I focused my concentration on the jumper.

  “Especially with Jorge gone. I heard he fell overboard out in the bay a year or so back and dey never found his body.”

  I focused harder.

  “How long past since he come to de house, you say?”

  Heat burned in my face. “Mr. Franks, my ex-husband paid me a visit and we got together. Now I’m with child. People do it all the time.”

  He sucked his teeth again. “Catch yourself, girl. Don’t swell up your face so. I just hope you know what you’re up against. Dat baby will suck you dry.”

  “That’s what they’re supposed to do, and I’ll give it my all, willingly.”

  He never said anything else about it to me, and pretended as if I wasn’t growing bigger every day, though I saw the way he warily studied my belly. When I was seven months pregnant, I went in to work feeling terrible. No matter how much rest I got, I was always exhausted.

  “Girl, you got luggage under your eyes.”

  “You tell me, Mr. Franks? I’m tired.” I collapsed onto the floor.

  I was barely conscious of Mr. Franks moving as quickly as he probably could, heading to his rotary dial phone to call for help. A knock at the door came from a distance.

  “Who dat is?” Mr. Franks asked, and I heard the door open. “I can’t hear you—” Mr. Franks’ voice cut off in a high pitched scream.

  I willed my body to move, to find out what was happening to him, but I couldn’t do anything but listen as the moist, ripping swallowing sounds continued. Then, a familiar face stood above me in a haze.

  “You have to eat to feed the babies. They’re too strong for your body. But you have to carry them as long as you can.” Dry fingers pressed inside my mouth, opening it, and liquid warmth poured down my throat. The baby leapt inside my belly, making frantic movements all over. I settled into satisfied, but restless bliss. What babies?

  When I awakened, I didn’t see Mr. Franks in the house. The door stood open and rain poured down. I grabbed my walking stick and headed towards my house. I could barely see through the bales of rain. I crept along the muddy path up the hill, when my stomach was grabbed and squeezed in an unyielding fist. I doubled over and swerved towards the line of trees along the river road. Barely able to catch my breath, I stopped walking, and searched for a safe place to rest.

  Warm wetness engulfed my legs, heating the cool water that washed up my ankles. I reached down, my hand was covered in sticky, metallic smelling burgundy. I screamed. My baby’s
life flowed from inside me, passing through my body in thick clumps that forced my opening wider and wider.

  Please save my baby.

  Visions of destruction filled my head. I saw starving children and mushroomed clouds over large cities. Still frames showing desiccated bodies strewn without care ran like a slide show through my head. Sometimes, death is God’s will.

  I lost my footing and slid, feet first, towards the river.

  Please save my baby.

  I passed a still form, and my nose stung with the burn of decomposing flesh. I reached out to grasp something to stop my fall and held bones with small bits of flesh clinging to them. I recognized the rags surrounding the body as a shirt I’d bought for Jorge right before he’d left our home. He’d been wearing it when he’d visited me that last time. My mind grappled with what I was seeing as I continued to fall down the hill. I stopped after hitting my head on a large stone and slid into the rising water.

  I’ll give anything.

  I reached down between my legs and felt the baby’s head at my opening. The vice gripped my belly again and I grunted. My mind said I wouldn’t push anymore, but my body did it automatically. I didn’t have time to think about how dirty the river water might be, or what might be there with us. I pushed three times and the baby slid from my body, into the water. I grabbed it and held it close to me and tried to catch my breath. A girl. The next contraction expelled another body and I caught it in a one handed grasp. She said ‘babies’.

  I had two daughters. Joy made the pain of giving birth fade. I pushed once again to expel the placenta, and wrapped the girls up in my folded, wet skirt. New pictures danced in my head, of children violated to the point of death and bodies drug behind vehicles. My head pounded with snapshots of torn torsos and human shaped burning pyres and screaming mothers kneeling beside the bodies of their children. My knees buckled.