Birth of a Dark Nation

by Rashid Darden

  "When has Dominique ever been afraid?"

  ~

  Word spread like wildfire among the Razadi that Dominique Bellanger was back and it was agreed that we would all descend upon Congo Square at the appointed time. Although Friday afternoon convocations at the square were common for people of color, this time was different. There was energy in the air that had never previously existed in New Orleans.

  Babarinde showed up at our doorstep in his horse-drawn buggy about an hour before we were to meet.

  "Baba…I didn't think you'd really come," I said.

  He nodded.

  "I need to see her for myself. Plus, I knew Eşusanya would want this tinker-toy for the occasion."

  He motioned behind him to a massive object covered by a black sheet.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "Jacques!" he called up to Eşusanya. "Come on down here, boy."

  I heard his footsteps behind me. I turned around to see him fully dressed for the cakewalk. He smiled at the sight of Babarinde.

  "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

  "Come see," Babarinde said. The horse whinnied and Eşusanya climbed onto the back of the buggy. He removed the sheet and was astonished.

  "You brought the piano? All the way from the house?!"

  "It's a special occasion," Babarinde smiled. "Now where's Ariori?"

  "I'm here," Ariori replied. He emerged from the shadows of the walkway in his finest suit.

  "You wearing that down to the cakewalk?" I asked, slipping into my New Orleans drawl like it was second nature. He grinned.

  "Ain't we supposed to?"

  Eşusanya sat in the back of that buggy and began playing a rag on the piano. Congo Square wouldn't know what to make of such a thing—an actual piano out there with the drums and the brass instruments. Babarinde began driving the buggy up the street, a straight shot toward Congo Square, while Eşusanya played and Ariori and I followed. After about a block, we were joined by men, women, and children who danced along behind us. By the time we reached Congo Square, we had made ourselves a nice little "second line" of a few dozen revelers. We were met at the square by a few dozen more, including our own men interspersed with the other black people there.

  I nodded, waved, and shook hands with all of my brothers. I winked at the pretty ladies who were clustered in a corner of wide-open space, surrounded by trees, waiting to be chosen for a dance. They all had on modest dresses, some black, some white, but all crisp and clean.

  The men were all in slacks and crisp white shirts, but Ariori wasn't alone in his desire to wear a suit jacket. This was, after all, a cakewalk, and it was always good to be at your best at such an affair.

  Ariori scanned the crowd and saw nothing but the brown faces of the black women he already knew. His disappointment was subtle, but present.

  "She'll come," I assured him.

  "I know," he beamed.

  Eşusanya picked his rag up into high gear and a few more men began improvising a tune on their trumpets. Aborişade and I, along with a few men I didn't know, took the lead in the cakewalk. We high kicked, strutted, and pranced around the square, first alone, then marching over to the cluster of women to pick out one to partner with.

  I chose a very young woman who couldn't have been more than 15. Her thick, curly hair was parted down the middle and pulled into two braids. She smiled and curtsied. I bowed, took her hand, and led her through the cakewalk.

  She caught on quickly, glancing ever so slightly at me to anticipate my next move. I spun her, then brought her back to me several times over through the dance. She kept smiling the whole time. We kicked high into the air, prancing a complete circuit around the square. By the end of the cakewalk, I held her dainty hand in mine and bowed before the crowd, while she curtsied. I led her back to her friends, who giggled as I dropped her off.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow and took a break while Ariori got ready for his round. The music kicked up once more and the men went around to the cluster of women to choose a partner.

  Ariori was last. He peered deeply into the crowd until he saw the partner he wanted. He pointed and extended his hand through the sea of women, who parted to make way for his intended.

  There, at the back of the crowd, was the fairest of them all: Dominique Bellanger.

  The black girls gasped in astonishment that a white woman would even appear in Congo Square, much less respond to the beckon of a black man. But respond she did. She stepped forward and curtsied deeply before Ariori while he bowed before her.

  Their dance began. Ariori clasped Dominique's hands and began to parade her around the square. Her rhythm was impeccable and her moves were graceful. In spite of their mismatched height, they were the most beautiful pair on the cakewalk, with the highest kicks and deepest backbends we'd seen thus far. All the people on the square were transfixed by the sight of a black man and white woman dancing together like professionals.

  The music stopped and everyone cheered. Dominique curtsied low and her curls cascaded from the back of her head to the front. Ariori bowed deeply and they came up at the same time. He clasped her hands again and brought her over to the piano, where many of the rest of us were congregated.

  "Who are you, really?" Eşusanya asked. Horn players across the square had taken it upon themselves to keep the party going while everyone outside of the Razadi continued to dance.

  "Dominique Rabaut," she said.

  "Does the name Bellanger mean anything to you?" Aborişade asked.

  "Of course," she said. "That's my family's name on my grandmother's side. My grandmother's maiden name."

  "How did you get the name Dominique?" I asked.

  "Not that I have to explain anything to any of you, but Dominique has been a name in my family for years, starting with my grandmother's grandmother. She was the first to visit the new world, but she was brought back. Her grandchildren settled in America a hundred years ago. And that's how I got here. Any further questions?"

  "She's feisty," Babarinde said.

  "And who exactly are all of you? Why are you so familiar to me?" Dominique asked.

  "Touch her," Babarinde commanded Ariori. He faced her and inched toward her cautiously.

  "May I?" he asked her.

  "I shouldn't…but yes."

  Ariori wiped his hands on his pants and carefully cupped her cheeks in his hands. Again, her eyes fluttered and she instinctually held on to Ariori.

  Eşusanya, Ogundiya, Aborişade, and I each touched a portion of Ariori's bare forearms while the rest of our brothers crowded around us in concentration. In the span of seconds, the entirety of Dominique's life on Dominica was transmitted back to her. Tears streamed down her face.

  Ariori released her and stepped back. We lowered our hands and waited.

  She opened her eyes.

  "Ariori, mon amour," she sobbed. She slowly raised her arms to embrace Ariori.

  "It's really you," he wept. He ran to her, embraced her, and spun her around. We all rejoiced, cheering and weeping at the same time.

  "I'm back," she said in between her tears. "I'm only 19 years old and all I know is America. But somehow, I'm back. I've returned to you."

  "I thought I lost you forever," Ariori said.

  "I thought I lost you, too. I can't remember everything. I can't remember much at all. But all of my life, I've had these flashes, these dreams of an island and of a Negro man. And I thought it was madness. That I would ever love a black man the way I loved the man in my dream. But it wasn't a dream, it was a memory."

  "You were reborn," Ariori said. "God wanted us to be together."

  "That's impossible," Eşusanya said. "People can't come back to life. Once they're dead, that's it."

  "I know someone who can solve this riddle," Babarinde said. "Dominique, who accompanied you here?"

  "I came alone. I attend Sophie Newcombe College. My chaperone Carmen would kill me if she found out I slipped away to Congo Square."

  "Then we don't have time
to spare. Come with me. Eşusanya, Ogundiya, stay with the piano. Take it back to Pontalba when this is over. Aragbaye and Aborişade, come with us."

  "Where are we going?" Aborişade asked.

  Just twenty minutes later, we were seated in the parlor of a witch: Marie Laveau III.

  Aborişade and I sat on a bench in the far corner of the parlor, suspicious of Marie and her abode. Her hardwood floors were impeccably shined, so much so that we could see our reflections in them. Candles in their holders ringed the room, but none were lit, as the early evening sun still filled the room with reddish light.

  Marie Laveau III was a voluptuous and vivacious woman of about 50 years, with her long black tresses hidden by a white head wrap. Gold rings adorned most of her fingers, which she clasped politely on the table in front of her. Babarinde greeted her with a kiss on the lips, surprising all of us.

  "Is he courting this woman?" I whispered to Aborişade.

  "Who knows? I didn't know he ever left the plantation."

  "Are you really Marie Laveau?" Dominique asked.

  "Of course I am, child! I am the third Marie Laveau and the reigning Voodoo Queen of New Orleans!"

  "Oh," Dominique said.

  "Babarinde, what can I help you with today? I know it must be important for you to come to me unannounced and with visitors in tow."

  "It is very important," Babarinde explained. "You know my people are…very old. We have seen much over the years. But we've never seen this. Dominique believes—and several of the brethren also believe—that she's been here before. And we've never encountered that before. Not sure if I believe it. But as sure as you and I are sitting here, she looks just like a woman we all knew well many years ago. Many, many years. Years before Dominique was even born."

  "I see," Marie said.

  "So what I'm asking is, is this girl the reincarnation of the woman we all knew so many years ago?"

  "How many years did you say?" Marie teased.

  "I didn't say." Babarinde winked.

  Marie cackled.

  "Link hands," she instructed. "Boys, you as well. Join us."

  Aborişade and I rose from the bench and stood at either side of Marie. We linked hands, forming a circle around a wooden bowl of water on the table.

  "You know why we're here," she said. "Show us the answers."

  This was an interesting approach, I thought. If she was searching for answers, she surely didn't have much reverence.

  "I said tell us something! We don't have all damn day!"

  The sun disappeared and the room went dark. Wind blew from parts unknown. The table shook.

  "Who is there?" Marie asked.

  Obatala.

  A voice filled all of our minds simultaneously.

  "You lie!" Marie said, angered. "Tell me your name!"

  The table shook violently once more and the bowl of water overturned.

  Eshu.

  The table settled once more.

  "I humbly greet you, Eshu, trickster of the Orishas and messenger of all that is divine."

  What do you want?

  "Who is the girl present before us?"

  Her body is Dominique Rabaut. Her soul is Dominique Bellanger, wife of Ariori.

  Ariori looked at Dominique and they both smiled.

  "Why has she been sent back here?"

  This is where she belongs.

  "What happened to Dominique Bellanger after she was taken from us?" Ariori interrupted.

  Be grateful that she has come back to you.

  "Yes, yes," Ariori said. "I am."

  "Thank you, dear Eshu," Marie concluded.

  The sun came out once more and the winds stopped blowing. A bird chirped out on Bourbon Street.

  "You have the answers you want. Dominique is the real deal."

  "I'm the real deal? But I don't even know who I am anymore, or what this all means," she said.

  "Neither do I," Ariori said. "But I know that what I'm feeling now is as real as it was when I lived in Dominica. And I'm never letting you go again."

  "You better not," Marie said. "Chances like this don't happen in most people's lifetimes. Make the most of it."

  ~

  xt several weeks, Dominique and Ariori indeed made the most of their relationship. She spent her days in class, studying to become a teacher at Sophie Newcombe College and learning how to be a lady. Her chaperone, Carmen, held close watch over her since the day she had snuck off to Congo Square. However, Dominique outsmarted her by sneaking out late in the evening, under the cover of darkness, after Carmen was fast asleep.

  They spent every hour of the evening together, whether dancing, talking, or just sharing stories of the years of their lives so far.

  One evening, during a late supper Ariori made from the herbs and vegetables from our plantation, she confided some of her plans with us.

  "I've been working with nine other girls at my school," she began. "We want to create a society."

  "A society?" Ariori said, as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Some sort of religious order?"

  "No. Have you ever heard of a fraternity?"

  "Yes, I think so," Ariori nodded.

  "Well, there are fraternities for women, too. Sometimes they're called sororities. We want to have a way for our girls to talk about topics of the day, safe from the faculty. School is very repressive, actually, and we want to organize better. To serve our campus and each other."

  "Sounds silly," Eşusanya said.

  "Easy for you to say," Dominique retorted. "All of you are already organized like a fraternity. You have a leader, rules, your own ceremonies and traditions. Why can't we have the same thing?"

  "Because you haven't been through what we've been through. Our rituals keep us alive."

  "And what's to say the girls in my school don't need the same sort of family? Many of us are far from our homes."

  "Don't compare your little girls' club to me and my brothers."

  "You don't scare me, Jacques!" Dominique sharply stood up at the table.

  "Who are you talking to like that?!" Eşusanya bared his fangs. Without hesitation, Dominique threw her glass of water across the table and drenched Eşusanya. In a rage, he leaped across the table and pushed Dominique up against the wall, squeezing her throat with his hand.

  He hissed at her relentlessly, but she showed no fear on her face. After a few tense seconds, they began to giggle.

  "It's good to have you back, wench," he said as his fangs retracted.

  "It's good to be back, you old bastard," Dominique responded.

  ~

  She stood before us in the field beyond our house, her face illuminated by the full moon and the torches planted in the ground that formed a circle around all of us. Her hair was crowned with a wreath of white roses. She held hands with Ariori in front of Marie Laveau while we all looked on.

  "…may Olódùmarè ever bless this union. Ariori, you may now kiss your bride."

  Weeks of courtship had led to this inevitable moment between them. Their love was as strong as it had been all those years ago; even though this was a new person, her spirit was the same. They wanted to be together as soon as possible.

  The ceremony had been an amalgam of our own Razadi, Voodoo, and Catholic traditions, representing the beliefs of the couple as well as the place where we now lived.

  We were treated to a midnight repast of fruits, salads, and an assortment of baked goods, including a cake and bean pies. We drummed and danced in celebration. Even Eşusanya smiled at the union of our brother to our sister reborn.

  Just as I got my turn to dance with the blushing bride, we heard the sound of a horse racing in the distance; it grew louder and louder.

  "What's that?" she asked.

  Ariori took her side and we turned around, facing the cloaked figure riding directly onto our property.

  "What's the meaning of this?" Babarinde asked.

  The figure jumped off the resting horse and removed her cloak. It was Carmen, Dominique's c
haperone.

  "You tell me the meaning, boy!" she shouted at Babarinde.

  "Boy?" he laughed.

  "Don't laugh at me, boy! Dominique, get on this horse right now!"

  "No, Carmen. Go back home," Dominique responded.

  "Right now!" Carmen shrieked.

  "I am here with my husband, Carmen. Now run along home."

  "Husband? No, I won't believe it. I won't believe that you've married a…a…"

  "A man," Ariori said. Carmen scowled at him.

  "You really did it, didn't you?" Carmen asked. Dominique slowly nodded. Carmen began to sob.

  "Please, walk away from this! The law won't even recognize it!"

  "Absolutely not! I am staying married, Carmen. Forever."

  "How can you throw your life away like this? Where did I go wrong? Don't you know this will break your parents' hearts? And they'll kill me for letting it happen!"

  "You don't have to tell them," Dominique said.

  Carmen's face immediately turned from anguish to anger.

  "Of course I'll tell them. I'll tell your father that you married a Negro if you don't come home right now!"

  "Tell him! I don't care, Carmen! This is my life! I'm an adult now and I can do what I want!"

  Carmen took a step toward Dominique and drew her hand back as though she was about to slap Dominique. I grabbed her forearm and pulled her toward me.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, ma'am."

  "Get off me!" she yelled. I let her go and she hurried to her horse.

  "I am going to tell your father, Dominique! And your mother! You have shamed them! Shamed! Your life will never be the same!"

  "Good!" Dominique shouted back.

  Carmen hurried off into the night on the horse she rode in on. We stood around in silence.

  "Well, what are we all standing here for?" Dominique asked. "Isn't this a party? Let's dance!"

  We laughed and began drumming and dancing once more. Dominique was wholly unbothered by the threats of her chaperone, even though, perhaps, she should have been.

  Carmen made good on her threats to snitch to Mr. Rabaut, who immediately had his daughter withdrawn from Sophie Newcombe. Soon, Dominique was alone and living with us at Pontalba fulltime, and meeting with the sisters of her society on the weekends. She never broke a sweat and adjusted well to her new routine over the next few weeks.