What the River Washed Away

by Muriel Mharie Macleod

  By the time I get back Quince has already left for Brouillette. He’s off fishing with his cronies, Mambo says. He don’t have time to see much of them these days, everybody’s got families and mouths to be feeding now. I smell eggs cooking out back.

  ‘Where ya been?’ calls Mambo.

  ‘I woke early, so I went to Sugarsookie Creek.’

  ‘Ya see all ’em changes?’

  ‘Yeah, they sure did take a lot of trees, and I see folks setting up home on the bayou.’

  ‘Thank goodness they ain’t takin’ no more from round here. Tree management, they’s callin’ it. That’s what rich folks call fellin’ trees these days. Tree management. They gonna start thinning out over Florien way, so we gonna get a bit of peace and quiet. I’ll be glad when they get themselves outta here. Them folks moving in on the bayou are Cajuns. Don’t mind that, folks say they’s filling the water up with good fishing. Some of them even coming my way, too.’

  She’s serving up eggs with fresh pancakes and grits in pig fat.

  ‘Rochelle, come get ya eggs.’

  ‘It was a nice funeral for Safi, wasn’t it, Mambo?’

  ‘Yeah, Arletta, it was a nice funeral.’

  Mambo says Safi’s ma asked for help, something to get her through the day, and there’s no way Mambo was gonna say no, church or no church. I’m glad Mambo did that, and glad Safi’s folks asked for it. I feel for Safi’s good folks now they’re left with one more mouth to feed. Like that’s just what they were needing. And now I know what was in Rochelle’s little basket. I didn’t think it was eggs.

  ‘Arletta, who the father of that child?’

  ‘I’m glad you gave her ma something to help her.’

  ‘I fix some herbs for keeping her calm, that’s all she’s needin’ right now. Just ’cause folks take to church ways, Arletta, ain’t mean they gonna start mixing up what raises the spirits and what fixes the soul. Us folks know the difference. First time I ever been inside one them churches Arletta. Ya still go with Mrs Archer-Laing?’

  No chance of getting out of that.

  Mambo’s pancakes and fresh eggs taste nice. Rochelle reckons they’re the best pancakes anybody makes.

  ‘Rochelle, finish ya swallowing and then speak. My Mambo never let me speak with a mouth full of food when I was your age and I never let Arletta do that neither.’

  ‘I ain’t speakin’.’

  ‘Yes ya is. Well, it sure was a right fine send-off for our Safi, with all that singin’ and all. Right fine. They did her proud. Ya ain’t answer my question, Arletta.’

  ‘I don’t know who the father is.’

  ‘Safi ain’t never struck me as free an’ easy.’

  Years gone by I would have said, ‘You would know,’ and we’d get one almighty fight going on about my cheek. Now I know when to bite my tongue. Leaving home taught me how to deal with Mambo. She’s glad I’m not pregnant and hopes I’m wise enough to keep it that way.

  ‘Ya gonna get over this, Arletta. Life ain’t easy. Never was, never gonna be. This world kickin’ folks all the time. Ya gotta learn how to kick back.’

  ‘I want to tell ya something, Mambo.’

  ‘Girl, don’t ya go telling me y’all get y’self in the family way now?’

  ‘No Mambo, it’s about Safi.’

  So I tell her. I tell her Safi took something, nobody seems to know what, and how I didn’t even know she took it till after she’d done it and I came back and found her flat out like she’s one of those zombies who can’t do anything.

  Mambo’s lips turn pale. That happens when she’s fearsome, and I start fidgeting with my grits.

  ‘Errol thinks she wanted to be rid of the child. You should have seen her Mambo, it was just terrible …’

  She grabs me clean off my stool and shakes me hard.

  ‘Why ya ain’t come on straight out here and tell me girl? She gone get herself with child and y’all thinking she come to me to get rid of it? Arletta, I wish ya ever learnt something. I don’t touch that shit, that’s bad stuff, Arletta, bad stuff.’

  She drops me and gets herself head first into Pappy’s closet, shouting mad as hell back at me. I sit over my half-eaten plate of food, holding my head in my hands. Rochelle looks like she’s frozen to death. Mambo comes out wrapping a blue cloth round her head, still shouting about why I didn’t come straight out here for her.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To save her life, ya damn fool! Where did she go? Who gave her that shit? Who?’

  Mambo is screaming, so I scream right back. It’s just like the old days after all.

  ‘How the hell do I know? I don’t know where she went, I don’t know who the father of that child is and, goddammit, I don’t even know how any of it happened. I didn’t know anything about it except I came home and found her flat out. Only thing says she ain’t dead is that she’s breathing. Ev’rything else looked dead to me!’

  Rochelle has never seen me and Mambo fight, but I’m not stopping. Mambo finishes tying up her head and I follow her back to Pappy’s closet, where she’s throwing stuff into a basket.

  ‘And yeah,’ I scream at her, ‘I thought it was you! Where else was she gonna go? You’re the only mambo she ever knew, seems she knows somebody else now, though. I’m sorry, Mambo! Who else did she know?’

  ‘Nobody else. I am the only mambo she knows. They’ve always lived round here and come to us. They ain’t ever go no place else. We knows them. She been harmed bad, that poor girl and y’all gonna come, right now, and help her lie peaceful in her grave. I knew as soon as I hear it that she ain’t resting. She’s walkin’. I knows it.’

  My head is spinning with all her shouting, and my own. She grabs Rochelle and starts striding out towards the mule barn with her basket full of whatever she’s taken from Pappy’s closet. Power is rippling through the air behind her. I don’t seem able to move a limb.

  She doesn’t even turn round; she just stops and calls my name.

  ‘Arletta!’

  Rochelle looks back and her little hand tells me I oughta come. I’m frozen to the spot, scared of what Mambo is going to do. Scared of facing up to what I didn’t do. I didn’t come for her.

  Mambo knows I still haven’t moved.

  ‘ARLETTA!’

  Rochelle comes running back.

  ‘C’mon Arletta, we gonna help Safi now. Is all right. Come. Mambo do it good. C’mon Arletta.’

  We walk. Nobody says a word. I can hardly think about what I should have done to save Safi. Mambo’s right, I should have come straight home to fetch her. Safi would still be living if I had.

  At the far end of the mule barn, Mambo places her herbs, roots and potions in what is left of the old fireplace built into the wall. It looks now more like a stone pit, black with years of burning. She lights a small tallow candle to burn the herbs. I watch her in silence and think about how everything is always cleared away after the dark moon. There’s not much sign of what goes on ever left up here at Lamper Ridge mule barn. Mambo takes no part in setting up or clearing away, and that’s the first time I ever thought about it. I was always too busy thinking about how folks must be thinking low of her for being a mambo, but all the time they were always looking out for her, preparing for her to arrive and cleaning up when she left. I just never saw that, never got to thinking about it.

  It never mattered what Pappy thought of it, folks believed in the old ways and looked after her good for it. Anybody passing would never guess what goes on in that place. It doesn’t even look cleaned up, it looks like a place abandoned long ago, a place left idling for years, birds chirping in trees, honeybees buzzing. I look over at Rochelle sitting on a rock fallen from the wall, the same way I used to. That makes me smile through my tears for Safi. She shrugs and grins like a little imp from one of her storybooks.

  Mambo pulls me to my knees.

  ‘She’s ya friend and the daughter of mine. Help her now like ya never did when she was needing it.’

  ‘Don’t say th
at Mambo, please.’

  ‘For crying out loud, stop bubbling girl. Bubbling the last thing she’s needin’ right now.’

  Mambo turns then and our eyes lock. She holds me by my shoulders; I see her face soften.

  ‘It is what it is, Arletta. This gonna help ya too, else this gonna lie inside ya spirit for the rest of the days ya got on this earth. Do as I say now, and get it out. Ya gonna find her walkin’, because that’s what she’s doing, tell her ya sorry and ya right here, and listen for her tellin’ ya whatever it is she’s gotta say. Tell her it’s gonna be fine, it’s gonna be okay.’

  I nod to agree. There’s not much else I can do. Mambo has got me up here to make things right, to help Safi the way I didn’t when I should have. I bury my head in my Mambo, hoping she can help me make things okay for Safi walking.

  Mambo starts chanting and burning, and marking the air till I start thinking what I always think about it. She sure is crazy, looks crazier than she’s ever been, and I must be too, for being here alongside her. I watch all she does with smoke curling round us both. Her face is serious, set hard.

  I don’t know what makes me feel I need to be speaking. I guess I’m feeling that my friend is gone and here’s my Mambo doing all this for her when I did nothing but listen to other folks and watch her die. I reckon I owe her, big time. Lamper Ridge mule barn smells of Mambo’s herbs in the smoke.

  ‘Safi, I miss you,’ I hear myself whisper, like it’s coming from somebody else. ‘Please be at rest. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never came for Mambo and I never got the right help for you. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything right when I know I should have.’

  One time Mambo called that talking to thin air. Right now she’s going into one of her trances. Doesn’t look like she’s gone all the way over yet, though, that’s when she’s terrible, so I’m glad for that. I don’t understand her old-tongue talk, so I just listen and tell Safi she needs to rest peaceful in her grave and don’t take to no walking. I tell her over and over again till there’s nothing in my mind but telling her I’m sorry and trying to make it right. I start rocking and swaying with Mambo, she’s holding me tight and that feels safe. I listen to her chanting and the sound of her rattling, and breathe in the smell of her herbs and sulphur smoke. That’s all there is, the smell of Mambo’s burning, the sound of the old country, the rocking and the swaying, and the spirit coming up in my belly.

  ‘Call her name Arletta, call her.’

  ‘Safi, Safi, I’ll find out who did this and then you’ll be peaceful. Help me please, Safi, if you’re able, I want to find out who took you away. Safi, my friend, I miss you, and I’m real sorry I never went for Mambo. Be peaceful, please be peaceful and I’ll do what’s left in this world for you to do. I promise my friend, my Safi, my lovely Safi, my friend …’

  Grief pours out alongside my tears, and all the guilt I feel for leaving Safi how she was. I don’t know how I could have left her that way, listened to other folks and not come for Mambo. My mumbling tumbles out, Mambo chants and holds me up, her breathing feels hot on my cheek. Then she wraps her arms closer around me and we’re both rocking and swaying, like I always saw her. That takes me, and I’m walking with my Safi one more time. Like she finds me and I find her, and we’re both walking.

  That’s the last thing I know till I come back and find I’m leaning against Mambo and she’s wiping my face with something cool and fresh-smelling. She draws me closer and my head rests on her chest. Her heartbeat is strong.

  ‘Ya my flesh and my blood and we’re using our own ways. Y’all be thinkin’ of Safi now, so she don’t walk. That holds her close. She’s gonna show ya what she needs doing for her restin’.’

  I smell musty sweetgrass and sulphur on her clothes. The smell is so familiar I feel like I’ve really come home to Mambo and our own old cabin.

  We walk back in silence, no need for words.

  I lay down on Rochelle’s little cot and Mambo brings me a bitter draught. My sleep won’t be for long, but it will be good and deep. Like a child, I do as I’m told and sleep for a couple of hours. When I wake up Rochelle is sitting at the foot of the cot reading. I know she’s been there watching over me because Mambo told her she had to do that.

  ‘Ya feelin’ better Arletta?’

  ‘Yeah, I slept good. I feel fine.’

  ‘I’m glad. Ya been tired ’cause of missing Safi. She gonna be resting soon, though. Mambo’s real good at that.’

  She comes snuggling up. Mambo comes in and sits next to me, folding a teacloth in her lap.

  ‘Ain’t gonna feel different right away honey, just ’cause ya feeling better about things. It’s gonna take time. When folks go over ’fore their right time they take to wandering and that ain’t settled. They don’t mean no harm, but when ya ain’t nothing but a spirit, ain’t got nothing to hang onto, all kinda things gonna happen. That’s why ya need to be calling her name, so she remembers it and hangs on it. Hanging onto her name keeps her safe, she’s protected, and she’s gonna appreciate ya doin’ that for her, Arletta. Look after Safi’s spirit till she gets ready for restin’. Y’all guard her good. Do that for her because ya got life and that’s good strong medicine for somebody walkin’. She’s right ’longside ya now, ya called her and she’s come, so guard her good.’

  I don’t know how exactly, but I’m going to do that.

  ‘I expect she gonna make ya feel like needin’ to know who give her that poison. Safi connect up now, real strong, like she was since young. Me and her folks, we always been connected, and way back before that too. So if ya need to be findin’ stuff out, then be sure on tellin’ me so I know what’s goin’ on and able to help. Ya got that Arletta?’

  ‘Yes I will. I know it now. I just can’t figure out why she never told me what was going on with her, who the father of the child is.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I’m talking about. So remember it, Arletta, ya ain’t doin’ nothing without telling me. Promise me, and just once in ya life let me do what I’m real good at.’

  ‘I promise, Mambo.’

  Nine

  Red gets himself a scholarship and leaves for California. He’s going to be studying for four years and I know he’s never coming back to Louisiana. He’s going to meet some new girl on that California campus and, being what they call a gentleman, he’s probably going to write letting me know he’s met her. He’s going to tell me how much he thinks of her and how he hopes I find somebody else. I reckon all that’s going to happen before she even gets a second kiss.

  I hope she’s good for him and his fine set of teeth. He’ll make a fine husband. He’ll be a good father too, and that’s something I know I’d never be able to make him.

  I’ve started working in administration at the NAACP offices since Red left, thanks to Monsieur Desnoyers, and there’s plenty of shouting these days every time somebody gets a lynching; even white folks are turning against it.

  Cotton-mill workers send representatives to the NAACP office, wanting union rights, but as soon as the bosses hear about that, eight people get laid off. The whole place is on edge, wondering who did the whistleblowing, and Li’l Skivvy is found badly beat and bleeding. That’s the last anybody ever sees of him. Monsieur Desnoyers says it’s just a matter of time before everybody living in the USA gets equal rights.

  Even though I’d already been moved to overseeing in packing and finishing bales at the mill, and got a pay rise to go with it that nearly covered my rent since Safi’s gone, my hands are thick with callouses from working rough hessian. The needles always scarred me on account of my rushing so nobody could ever say I’m slacking. I can’t say I ever took to it. The NAACP got me out of there and Mambo is right proud of it, telling Rochelle she’s going to get a ‘fancy job’ too if she sticks with her lessons.

  ‘Ya done good for y’self, my girl,’ Quince says. ‘Ya ma’s all high ’n’ mighty about it, telling folks all over the place about ya new job and how ya talking so fine now after all them lessons. Right proud
of ya. She reckons our Rochelle’s gonna make college.’

  I let him know that I think the same thing and she just needs the chance to do it. She’s as smart as anybody else and he needs to get behind her for it. Once I tell him there’s a new college opened up north of Grambling for coloureds, I can see he’s starting to think things are changing, even in the South.

  ‘Changes coming fast; no stopping it, Quince.’

  ‘Ya keep outta them changes girl,’ says Mambo. ‘I ain’t saying none of it gonna happen, I’m saying white folks gonna start thrashin’ it out of coloureds trying to get on. There’s plenty out there taking a mind to round us up and get us onto reservations. That’s what I hear some folks thinking. Want to do to black folks like they do to Injuns.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen, Mambo.’

  ‘Sure as hell it ain’t, but they gonna try. They’s gonna try, girl.’

  I wonder sometimes about getting properly qualified for college myself, because I still dream of teaching. That’s what I reckon I do best. The Anglican Church lets me help out with their Sunday school teaching and I plan every lesson to make sure these kids have a nice time learning. I don’t know that I’ve got what it takes to go trailblazing for coloureds getting an education, but I sure know how children learn and that’s fine right now. I make sure Mambo knows what reading Rochelle needs to be doing. She’s attending the same mission school I did and she’s smart too, even good enough for Grambling, and I press her to get Quince thinking about sending her there.

  ‘Ya really thinking she’s able Arletta?’