Descendants of Hagar

by Nik Nicholson

  All while Sadie serving us it feel wrong. Me and the Harpers kids half her age. I have to keep reminding myself the Harpers are very busy. Still, I cain’t imagine hiring nobody to help me round my own house.

  “I’ve been reading your local newspaper. It’s really wonderful for such a small town. You don’t talk about much going on in the world though. I mean, we are on the brink of war. Then there are so many things going on with Coloreds all over the country. It would be nice to read some of that, you know, for uplifting,” Coley offer while we standing on the porch.

  “White folks check our paper. They don’t like that,” Reverend Patrick inform ‘a.

  “Well, now that Washington is dead, it would be nice if you’d print articles by other noteworthy Coloreds on the race matter.”

  “We git letters and articles from people writing on the race matter, but what does Booker T Washington’s death have to do with who putting columns in the paper?” Mrs. Harper ask.

  “I’m thinking of articles by Du Bois. He is the leading voice now that Washington is gone, and when Washington was alive, Du Bois couldn’t get in your paper.”

  “Sho couldn’t and still cain’t,” Reverend step in shaking his head ‘no.’

  “Why not?” Coley demand to know.

  “He’s a trouble maker. He don’t live down here, and he ain’t got to deal with all the problems us printing his crazy ideas gone stir up.” Reverend fold his arms.

  “Crazy ideas? That Coloreds should be allowed to vote? How is it crazy to expect to exercise the same rights as every other American? You’re paying taxes like everyone else.”

  “Girl, we in the middle of an election year. They already hanging niggas as warnings for us not to git no good ideas,” Reverend Patrick warn her. “Then President Wilson, working on passing laws to separate blacks in government offices. Shoot, he even said “Birth of a Nation” is one of the best and most accurate depictions of what’s going on in the South. We cain’t git into no voting drives here. Zion ain’t one of the few Colored towns still standing, and probly the most successful because we fighting for our rights. We keep to ourselves, and worry bout our own.

  “That paper is to help this town do better. It got crop schedules, birth announcements, church bulletins and jobs. We advertise if some fair is coming. But we ain’t gone git in no politics with this paper that goes before the council on every printing.”

  “Why do you have to give them all the parts of your paper?” Coley make faces at him like she cain’t believe what he saying. “Why would whites want to read what we’re writing anyway?”

  “See you ain never been to the South.”

  “I lived in Atlanta for two years while I was doing my Masters.”

  “Did you ever gitcho head out of them books?” Mrs. Harper tease ‘a. “White folks want to know everything going on round here in Zion. They want to know every Negro they don’t know, and every Negro want to make sure they known.”

  “And now we got this moving picture, “Birth of a Nation,” they say making the Klan numbers grow bigger than ever,” Reverend Patrick jump in. “They say it’s the reason folks been gittin hung left and right. The Klan back to night riding real tough, burning crosses in people’s yards and killing niggas’ livestock. I said I was gone have to talk about it this Sunday.”

  “And for yall boys, think you gittin over going to that jug house in the middle of the night, if the Klan catch you on the road ain nobody but Jesus gone be able to save you,” Mrs. Harper warn.

  “In the afterlife,” Annette, one of the wives, add.

  “Please tell ya mama, yall gone be in yah house after the sun go down.” Mrs. Harper eyeball ‘a boys.

  “Yes, ma’am,” they answer ‘a in unison.

  “Speaking of that, Linny, we also brought you here so we could take you to the council meeting to stand with Coley,” Ms. Harper announce.

  “Why me?” I look around at everyone stirring in their seats like there’s something I don’t know.

  “You was requested,” Reverend answer.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  THE COUNCIL

  “Round here, theya hang you for sport. They been known to let a nigga accused of something outta jail so the Klan can hunt ’im down.” Reverend Patrick look back in the rearview mirror at Coley, to make sure she understand how serious this all is.

  Coley don’t say a word.

  “My boy tell me in the North, white folks don’t out right call you a nigga. Don’t out right let you know they don’t like you. So I’m thinking where you from they ain hanging folks way they is down here.”

  Reverend Patrick holding the steering wheel and looking back at Coley to see if she following. Coley still quiet, planted like a tree looking right back at ’im. Guess that mean she understand how serious it is, cause he go on and say, “It’s gone take you a while to git all the rules, so I’m gone speak fah yah, much as I can. But I’m still gone tell yah the rules and we gone have to be working on you learnin ’em. Else you be done got the whole town burnt down.”

  “How could I get the town burned down, when my only intention is to help? All my instructors, mentors and Alumni impressed upon me a responsibility to the Negro race. Which means I have to set positive examples by striving for a quiet Christian life and following the laws of the land. I always thought white’s just hung Negroes who raped white women.”

  “Who told you that?” we all say almost together, and Mrs. Harper turn around like she got to look at Coley face to see if she lying or crazy.

  Our attention seem to scare ‘a. “I,” she stumble, looking at us hanging on for ‘a next words. “Well, I heard about lynching in New York, and when I was in school in DC. People were always saying, you know, that it happened because of some crime the Negro committed.”

  “Ain knowed none of them men they done hung raped nobody, specially not no white woman. Niggas ain even making eye contact with no white folks, so they definitely ain got the nerve to go round raping they women,” Reverend Patrick challenge.

  “You don’t have to be doing nothing at all,” Mrs. Harper add. “They just think they can treat us any kinda way.”

  “They think it cause they can,” Reverend Patrick go on. “And while we talking bout this, you make sure you don’t accept no work in they house or be out walking on the roads by yahself. They always worried bout somebody wonting one of them skinny misses, but they the ones always raping our women.”

  “That’s enough,” Mrs. Harper says, stopping The Reverend and looking back at me like it’s the first time I done heard this warning.

  “Well, why don’t you all just move?” Coley ask, like we all stupid for being here.

  “Where?” Reverend ask.

  “Up North? West?” Coley offer.

  “Our family here. Parents too old to just up and go. Who gone take care of them? We own our land. Been had it in the family since slavery ended. How you think we gone git by somewhere else?” Reverend Patrick ask. “Whole town have to go. Ain’t that easy. This all we know.”

  “When Ida B. Wells wrote about lynching in Tennessee, almost the entire town left. It’s possible. Then there are tons of jobs in Michigan, New York, Chicago, St. Louis and E. St. Louis. A lot of Coloreds are moving out of the South. Employers are always looking for Negroes to hire. They are tired of all the politics and strikes with the white labor groups in New York,” Coley explain.

  “We’ve heard about your jobs up North and in the Midwest. Klan round here harassing and hanging anybody they think got ‘Northern Fever,’” Reverend say.

  “Um hmm,” Mrs. Harper cosign, nodding ‘a head yes, and adding, “You have to be seeing how you can git out of Zion. Every agent ever came looking for labor to break strikes in Chicago and New York, giving out free tickets and making promises to families of a better life, first had to figure out how to keep that workers neck out the noose. The Klan be waiting at the train station.”

  “Speaking of the train station,” Reverend Patric
k jump back in, “Linny’s daddy, Cassius, told me you was looking white folks in the eyes and walking on the sidewalk. He said white folks started coming out they businesses and stopped what they was doing when you got off the train.”

  “What’s wrong with the sidewalks? And my father taught me to always look a man in the eyes.”

  “I don’t know where yo daddy from, but down here that’s stepping out cho place to the white man. Surprised he got you out of there safe. Then again, you was at the train station, and you ain from round here. Looking at you, they probly knew you ain know no better.”

  “Don’t stop ’em from teaching folks a lesson,” Mrs. Harper put in.

  “Sho don’t,” Reverend Patrick pick up.

  Coley, take a deep breath, looking lost now.

  We on our way to introduce ‘a to the council. Every new nigga come to Zion the council at some point have to be told about. Coley must be special, they don’t actually wont to meet every stranger, just to know who in the town gone be here awhile. Usually, The Reverend have to make a note of them being here. Otherwise that nigga be walking round on borrowed time.

  The Klan ain killed nobody from Zion in a while, but they still whupping grown folks. Lately, they been really hanging niggas in other towns. All they need is to see some stranger round here, late at night or dusk. Ask ’im who’s boy they is, and if he cain’t say no name they know, he be lynched. I done watched a few strangers get cut down out of the trees round here, been getting worse lately.

  Reverend go on, “First off, you don’t look ’em in they eyes. You answer every question with ‘Yes, sir,’ or ‘No, sir.’ You say ‘Yes, ma’am’ or ‘misses,’ ‘No, ma’am’ or ‘No misses.’ Some of the white ladies will tell you what they prefer. I calls ’em all ‘Misses.’ Iain never been corrected, so maybe you should just call ’em that, too.”

  “Stop fidgeting!” Mrs. Harper fuss, looking back at me digging in the neckline of this stuffy dress. I hate these things.

  When we finally get to the place where they say the council gone be, we ride on round to the back of the house. It’s a big white house with columns and balconies up front overlooking the land. Reverend say the family older than he is. Say this land been in this family since the 1700’s. He say they restored it after the war, and a lot of the Confederates and The Daughters of the Confederacy consider it to be a special place, something of a landmark.

  Mrs. Harper and Reverend Patrick get out first, and I get in line behind Mrs. Harper, wondering what they brought me along for. I mean, Mrs. Harper be better for this, but I guess it be my age. Me and Coley are closer in age.

  Old man Grover meet us at the back door. “The Master been waiting for yall to arrive.” He look at me for a long time, then say, “Uh, Reverend, they just want to see the school teacher and Linny.”

  “Why they asking to see me?” I’m surprised.

  “They got their reasons.” Grover answer closing hisself so I know ain’t no other questions welcome.

  “I don’t want to go without you.” I wind my arm in Mrs. Harper’s. “I thought you said I was just coming along to stand with Coley.”

  “Hush, girl,” Reverend Patrick say, staring worried at the door, then looking at me like it’s the first time he ever seen me. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Go on in there with ’im, Pat.” She press ’im, but Grover looking like he don’t think that’s a good idea.

  ***

  Soon as we walk in the room, Douglas Belanger lean over saying, “Patrick, you can excuse yo self boy.”

  Feel like somebody done took my coat off or something. I’m feeling more alone and nervous cause of Coley not knowing what to do. And when I think about it, Iain never really spoke to no white men neither.

  “So you’re the new school teacher?” Wyatt Neville, start in, nobody introduce they self.

  Still I know them all, at some point in your life here in Zion you run into these white men. They are the richest men this side of Georgia, and the last of the old plantations still standing. They run the Klan, the police, and they be the ones deciding what niggas ‘llowed to do. They wont to know everything going on in our town, and they wont to know everybody coming and going in Zion. They make the laws round here, and break the laws round here.

  From left to right, there is Orson Harper, Titan Kendall, Stanton Atwell, Wyatt Neville, Douglas Belanger, Alton Remington, then Lowell and his eldest brother, Hunter Beaumont. All of them fifty years old or better.

  Stanton Atwell got a piece of paper, and he writing little notes on it, looking us both over. “Girl, don’t you hear this man speaking to you?” he ask, tilting his glasses at Coley.

  “I’m nervous, sir.” Coley hold tight to the edges of ‘a dress, looking round. She scared, and she need to be.

  “I said, ‘Are you the new school teacher round here?’” Mr. Neville repeat hisself.

  “Yes.” Coley look up, then I step closer to ‘a and grab ‘a hand, and she look down gulping for air, then add, “Sir.” It don’t even sound right coming out ‘a mouth.

  “You’re definitely something. Don’t look like none of the niggas round here.” Alton Remington comment, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “You come to start trouble?”

  “No, sir.” She breathing heavy and ‘a eyes wild like maybe she been caught, or what she saying ain quite the truth.

  “You sure you didn’t come down here to rile our niggas up?” Hunter Beaumont, the eldest of the men, and the one who has been on the council the longest ask in disbelief.

  “No, sir.” Coley shaking ‘a head ‘no’ nervously too.

  “You ain’t gone be encouraging them to vote or nothing like that? Talking bout nigga rights and being equal to white men?” Lowell, his younger brother, dig into ‘a answers, sifting.

  “No, sir.”

  “Ever heard of Booker T. Washington?” Hunter Beaumont ask.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What you think of him, girl?”

  Looking over at me, Coley grab my hand tighter. “Well, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him, sir, but I hear he’s done a great deal for Zion.”

  “That was a fine nigga. A fine nigga.” Hunter Beaumont nod his head, and then all they attention turn to me.

  I’m trying to look around, and I’m surprised it ain what I done thought. Whenever I hear about the council, I be thinking bout a big judge bench, and men sitting behind it like the drawings I seen in school books when they talk about the president. I spect they be wearing wigs and sitting up above us. They ain’t. Just a big house, and they all in the study surrounded by books. Ain’t but eight men, but the room is full of their own self-importance.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Coletta Graham sir,” she answer, and I realize she don’t do that curtsy for white folks.

  “I know your name, girl. I’m asking the girl standing next to you.”

  “Madelyn Remington, suh.” All they eyes on me. Then I wonder what I done did to deserve to be brought before them. Then again, I know they know every nigga round these parts, so it’s got to be a reason for me to be here.

  “Speak up, girl.”

  I say louder, “Madelyn Remington, suh,” and don’t swish all my words together way I been taught to do when speaking to white folks.

  “Well now, ain’t you a jewel,” Lowell Beaumont say, and I don’t know how he saying what he saying, cause it don’t feel sexual, it feel strange. The way he looking at me got a different interest, than the way men in Zion look at me. What he want from me? Want me to work in his house cause I’m so light? Since Ion know what has earned me a place before them, I’m scared. I don’t wont no white man to ever take no interest in me, specially since I’m living out by myself.

  “Step forward girl, and let us get a good look at you,” Hunter Beaumont order, his face hard.

  “She almost white,” Lowell Beaumont add.

  “Been a long time since I seen one look that much like us,” Wyatt Nev
ille seem to be joking.

  “Lift yah head up, gal,” Lowell Beaumont order, and I look him in his eyes then down at the ground. “Keep yah head up gal,” he demand louder, like I’m getting on his nerves. Then he do something ain no white person ever done, he look right in my eyes. For a moment, I feel connected to him and that send chills down my spine and scare me even more.

  His brother Hunter, next to ’im staring at me, too, then he say, “She looking just like a black diamond,” all dreamy.

  My heart drop, and I remember what Miemay always told me. Stay away from white men. Don’t talk to ’em and if they take any interest in you, don’t never be too far from home. Always tell ’em you too busy, and go looking for work at some old white lady house, so you ain’t available to be forced to take no work in they house.

  White women look down on their men chasing us. If you tell ’em you’re afraid of a white man, they’ll shame ’im, and other white women’ll be weary bout dealing with ’im. I drop my head.

  “Keep ya head up,” Hunter Beaumont warn.

  I lift my chin up, and look at ’im, and then at the other men at the table.

  “What you doing with yourself, gal?” Hunter Beaumont ask.

  “Working in the fields, sir.” I speak clear, proper.

  “Ain got no man, or children,” Hunter dig.

  I don’t know if he saying or asking, but I don’t answer. I’m afraid what he asking is do I live alone. Maybe so they can come later on to see about me. For a while no one speaks, then I know they waiting for an answer, but I don’t say nothing. I just stand there rocking back and forth, holding Coley hand, looking right in Hunter Beaumont eyes.

  All of a sudden, Lowell Beaumont touch his brother’s arm, then shuffle the papers in front of him, and I drop my head. “We know you done inherited most of Miemay’s property and money. You gone have a say in the committee now. We know you the only woman on Zion’s committee. We know who you is, you ain got no man or no children. We know you live over there by yourself on all that land, too. We done with yall. Yall can go. Git on out of here, gal,” Hunter Beaumont finish.