by Sienna Brown
As to the town people, they have on fancy clothes, much better than even Massa, and they walk down the street like they own the place. And many of the faces I look pon, them is black or them is brown. They look like me, have eyes and nose the same as me, but on them face, I see something different. Maybe they don’t have no shadow gnawing at them guts. They must be the free coloureds and blacks Melon told me bout, slaves that been given freedom by them massa. Then after, any pickney them have is born free, no longer chattel. Some of them even have servants walking behind to carry them packages. I stop and stare, seeing not the faces of colour, but the faces of freedom.
It hit me hard. Why not me?
And every time I pass one of the shop windows, all I see is a grubby-faced, wide-eyed boy. Mouth hanging open, full head of raggedy hair and slave clothes made dusty and dirty from the long journey.
I turn off quick into one of the side streets, away from all the shop windows, bright lights. Search for a place to slow down, catch me breath. Finally one of the streets open out onto a little park. A quiet place where I can have a rest, sit with me back up against a tree. Too many sights, too many sounds, too much newness, it make me head hurt with thoughts going round and round. I wish I could find a tall breadfruit tree to store all the stories I collect.
While me sitting there, a well-dressed old Negro man come into the park. Sit on the bench. Must be need to catch him breath too. Him nod at me like him saying, ‘Good evening.’ So I nod back. All is quiet for a while till the old man turn to me again and to my surprise strike up a conversation.
‘First time in the bay, young man?’ him ask me.
‘Yes, sir,’ not knowing how to address him.
‘You lost? Feel sick?’
‘No, sir. Me just need to get away from all the bright light dem.’
‘Plantation boy, eh?’ and I nod, trying to tidy up me raggedy clothes.
‘How many years?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘Almost a man. I was like you once,’ him say, chuckling. Then him face change with the memory of it. ‘Now look at me, you see how fate lift me up, give me ease. You can never know how things going turn out.’
I nod and smile, except I don’t believe this ever going happen. Seem like I always end up sitting behind that wait-a-bit fence, looking in on a life not meant for me.
After a while the gentleman ease himself off the bench. ‘Well, I must be on my way,’ and him pull out a penny and give it to me. ‘Good luck to you,’ tipping his hat, before him turn, head back out the park.
I never see that old man again, but him words make me feel better, not so shame. And my belly start to growl, to rumble. Remind me that I have things to do. So I tidy up as much as me can, return to the streets with all the bright light them. Then I become like one of the town folk moving quick, in a hurry with somewhere important to go.
The first thing I must do is find out where Melon sister working. That cake must be plenty fortified by now. Melon tell me Winnie work in a house just off Market Street, the main street near the clock tower where they hold the Sunday markets. A few streets back from the port. The house is number 36. I buck up me courage, ask a kind-looking lady where the clock tower is and she point me in the right direction. When I get there, I walk down one side of Market Street, then the other, till me come to a door that have the number 36. There don’t seem to be a back way in so I lift me hand, knock on the front door. It get opened by a light-skinned child, maybe seven or eight.
‘What is your business?’ looking me up and down.
‘Me here to see Winnie,’ I stammer.
The child stare at me.
‘Melon sister?’ hoping this is the right place.
She look me up and down again.
‘Free or slave?’
I never been asked that before, and start to stutter. ‘Me …’
‘Slave,’ she say. ‘Use the back gate. The blue one,’ and slam the door in me face.
It take a good few minutes before I move from that door. This evening proving to be one big lesson. Free or slave? Should make no difference. Seem like even when backra not in charge, we take up them mantle, put it tight cross our shoulders.
Round the back, I see a little laneway and arrive at the gate painted blue. Notice how the house from the back is bigger than it look from the front. See how the plantation way come to town with a little provision garden full up with herbs and vegetables. I knock on the gate. Suddenly a big brown dog with a floppy ear run up, start barking. The dog is on a chain, but I don’t want to open the gate in case him come loose and tear me to pieces. All I do is stand there feeling foolish. I buck up me courage to knock on the gate again, louder this time. Soon a tall woman with a bright red apron round her waist, a blue head-tie, come hurrying down the path.
‘Hush up, Floppy,’ she say, throwing a stone at the dog and him yelp, stop mid-bark. Shy away.
‘I is looking for Winnie,’ I say when she open the gate.
‘I is Winnie,’ she say, looking me up and down. Seem like everybody in this town hold to the same habit.
‘Melon beg me send something for you,’ and this time I do as she do, look her up and down. You can tell they is sisters. Hold to the same features. She fat as Melon, just as round, except where Melon short, and her skin like cocoa, Winnie tall and her skin the colour of cornmeal.
‘You must be little Will,’ pulling me inside the yard. Giving me a big hug, squeezing the life out of me. ‘Melon tell me all bout Miss Stella’s first born. Me been looking out for you all this week,’ as she march back up the path, me trailing behind her.
As soon as we get inside, I start to unpack the crocus bag. Want to do me duty, pull out Melon present, hand it over. Winnie just hang the bag up. Tell me to save it for later.
‘When you eat last?’ she ask. And I can tell by the way she look at me, she thinking the same thing Melon always used to: ‘Need to fatten you up.’
She show me a place to wash. Then set a spoon and a bowl of chicken stew down in front of me, along with a big piece of bread.
‘Eat,’ she say, and before I know it, me wiping up the last little bit with the bread and Winnie bringing the pot over, filling up the bowl again. Seem like good cooking must run in the family. Is the best stew I ever taste. Mind you, I never going tell Melon that.
‘Is a good ting you here,’ taking away the bowl. ‘Big celebration, the day after tomorrow. Must make youself useful,’ handing me a couple of dry coconuts she already break open. Get me to scoop out the kernel, start to grate them. While me doing this, the light-skinned child come into the kitchen.
‘Mama,’ she shout. ‘Mama come quick. Winnie have a visitor in the kitchen.’
I hear footsteps. Then one of the most handsome woman me ever seen come striding into the kitchen. I can’t stop meself from staring. She look like one of them fancy dressed people on the street. She have on a pale yellow dress with lace round the sleeves. A tiny waist. A low curve to the neckline with a bosom that is round and full. And her skin the colour of tea when Massa put a little milk in it. It shine in the lamp light, smooth like silk.
‘Winnie,’ she say. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? No gentleman callers in the house.’
‘Is little Will, Mistress Josephine. Remember, me tell you? Melon, me sister, send him.’
Mistress Josephine must be one of them free coloureds. The way she look down at me, I know she never been no slave. I stand up too quickly. Knock over the bowl with the coconut pieces, hasten to pick them up. But the child run up and grab one. Take a big bite. Mistress Josephine not too happy bout that. She lift up her hand and slap the child.
‘A well-mannered little girl does not do that!’ And she slap the child again. The poor child start to bawl. She throw the coconut piece on the floor then run out. Winnie make a move to go after her, but Mistress Josephine stop her. ‘You spoil that child too much. It’s the only way children learn.’
When everything get cleaned up, Mistress Jos
ephine still standing there. Finally look at me.
‘Can you fix things, little Will?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ nodding me head up and down, grinning like a fool. ‘I can fix things. Fix dem good.’
‘Well thank the Lord,’ she say, flicking open a little fan she have hanging off her wrist, start fanning herself. ‘That jackal Louis promised he’d be back today and still no sign of him. Tomorrow morning, be here early. Winnie will give you breakfast. Then before we start, I’ll give you a list of items I need picking up at the store. The balcony railing is most unstable. One of the floorboards is coming up in the parlour and …’
‘Excuse me, Mistress Josephine.’ She look at me hard for interrupting. ‘Massa expect me to come right back.’
‘Your massa, Cargill Mowatt, yes? That old scoundrel!’ and she sigh. ‘He still owes me money from his last visit. I’ll send word that in lieu of payment, I’ll make full use of your services for the next few days.’ And with that, Mistress Josephine lift up her nose along with her skirt them and stride back out the kitchen.
Winnie look at me and can see me finding things moving a little too quick. She burst out laughing. ‘Welcome to the bay,’ she say. ‘Guess me have to find you a place to stay.’
‘What bout Massa?’ not believing everything going be all right.
‘Don’t you worry, little Will. Whatever Mistress Josephine want, Mistress Josephine always get.’
After we eat a piece of Melon fortified cake, Winnie take me to the shed at the back. It belong to Louis, another of Mistress Josephine slave, but since him not back from visiting a sick relative, she tell me I might as well make use of it. Inside is scrubbed clean with a little cot for a bed. A table and stool pushed up against the wall. Remind me of old cripple Jonnie hut. Been a long time since I think bout him. Also been a long time since I sleep pon a bed. As soon as I lay down, me eyes get heavy and I fall into a dead sleep.
The next thing I know, there is banging on the door. Winnie calling out to make haste to come eat. Mistress Josephine already up and asking for me. I quickly get dressed. Wash meself with a bowl of water Winnie kindly leave outside. I still afraid of Floppy, but him seem to accept me as one of the family now.
Inside the house is all hustle and bustle. Mistress Josephine in the parlour marching up and down ordering some slave girls to take down the curtains for washing. Making them pull up the carpets so the floor can get scrubbed. Cover up the chairs to keep out the dust when the dusting begins.
‘There you are, little … What’s your name, boy?’ she ask me when I enter, stand by the door.
‘Is William,’ giving her me best smile.
‘I see,’ but the way she say it, it make me close down me smile in a hurry.
‘Follow me,’ and she lead me back into the kitchen where Winnie rolling out dough. ‘Clean yourself up, Winnie, then take William to the shops. I won’t have slaves looking like they just stepped out of a cow pasture. Take this list and show him where to get things.’
‘Yes, Mistress Josephine.’
Within a very short time me following Winnie down Market Street. She know everybody we pass. Say, ‘Good morning,’ and nod her head. I try to do the same thing except they look down them nose, just ignore me.
First stop is a shop and it only selling clothes for men. As soon as Winnie enter, a brown-skinned man step out from behind the counter. Leave the gentleman him talking to. Come right over to us.
‘Morning, Miss Winnie,’ him say.
‘Morning, Mister Potts.’
‘And how is Mistress Josephine this morning?’ and I can see him hoping to receive a special little mention from her.
‘Just fine, Mister Potts. Just fine.’
When nothing is forthcoming, him sigh and ask, ‘How can I be of assistance?’
Winnie nod in my direction. ‘Mistress want him to have a better set of clothes.’
Mister Potts barely look at me, just nod to the assistant, who pull aside a curtain. Show me to a little room at the back. Pull out a measuring tape. Start to measure me up, just the way I see Stella do when she making clothes for Massa. Take her a long time to sew, so is a surprise when the assistant open up a cupboard and show me what him call hand-me-downs hanging on the rack. I try on a few different ones till a pair of pants and shirt fit me good. While this happening the assistant don’t say a word just bundle up me old clothes.
‘Will you be taking these with you? Or should I throw them away?’
‘Of course I want dem,’ not knowing if the hand-me-downs is a loan or a gift.
When we head back into the front of the shop, I see Winnie give a few coins to Mister Potts.
‘Please give Mistress Josephine my regards,’ looking me over like I am no longer a mongrel dog. ‘I look forward to attending the celebration tomorrow evening.’
Back on the street again, is like I step into a new world. People seem to notice me. Maybe is the clothes or maybe is because I start to feel like not so much a stranger. After that, everything get busy, busy, busy. We go in and out of all the shops. Pick up many supplies so by the time we get back to the house, me arms loaded down with packages and me head is spinning. No time to rest though. Mistress Josephine put me to work straight away and before I know it, the rest of the day, it go by very quickly. At the end of her inspection, she tell Winnie to make sure she feed me up good.
‘Oh, and another thing,’ she say. ‘Try to do something about that hair,’ before she pick up her skirt them, bounce out the room.
Right then and there Winnie pick up her scissors. Start to chop. Pretty soon all them raggedy bits falling to the floor. Then she take a comb, drag it through me hair. Add some coconut oil to plaster it down. When I look in the mirror is like me looking at a person I not seen before. Remind me bout when I saw James come down the front steps of the Great House. I know was James, but him look so different. Not just the beautiful jacket, ruffled shirt and pants him had on, the boots, the stockings, but that him held him head up. Held it high, like him already turn into a gentleman. I could see him crossed over a line and never looking back.
Winnie notice me sitting there all quiet like. Must be get a sense of where me mind is wondering.
‘What’s the matter, little Will? You think bout James?’
‘What you mean? How you know bout James?’
‘Everybody know bout James. Is a big thing when a slave get him free paper. Him pass this way you know. Massa Cargill ask Mistress Josephine to buy new clothes, new shoes. Teach him manners. Make him presentable. Get him ready for the trip to the Mother Country.’
Was like a dream when James got sent away. Now to know him was standing in this kitchen too, it cause me to catch my breath.
‘You must miss him? Miss him plenty bad?’
‘Only when me think bout him.’
‘And you think bout him all the time?’
I nod, try to stop the tear them.
‘Me understand,’ Winnie say. ‘Is the same with Melon and me. Mistress Josephine mother, she buy us at the slave yard, when we was just young pickney. Sold Melon to old Massa William to work on the plantation. Keep me in town to help look after Mistress Josephine. What a lot of weeping. Took a long time, but me learn to not think bout how much me missing her.’
‘Why she choose you?’
‘Why you think? Colour, little Will. Mistress Josephine mother was a sambo. She like it that she have a slave lighter than her. Even so, this family been good to me, can’t complain.’
Winnie take hold of me hands. Squeeze them tight.
‘Family is family, you can’t break that. James, him taking the best of all of you to dem faraway places, to the people him going see and meet. James going become like the wayfarer. The one holding the torch high, stepping out first. Have a little faith. One day James going return to lead the way, lead you into that new future.’
I hope Winnie is right, but I doubt James going return.
I probably never would.
That n
ight I lay on Louis cot, since him still not return yet. I think bout life on the plantation. It seem very slow, very simple. Very far away and is the first time I come to see how different my life could be. Make me wonder what it must be like for James, out in a world that Winnie tell me move even faster than Montego Bay. Out there, not with him own kind, with nobody to turn to, no big brother to protect him soft edges. It set me mind in turmoil till I fall asleep, praying no one treat him cruel, only kind.
Next morning, I wake early and enter the kitchen, and hear Mistress Josephine shouting at the child.
‘Rose, you will do as you are told. Go with Winnie down the street to Miss Bonnie to have your hair done up special. I have no time for that today.’
‘I will not,’ little Rose say, stamping her foot on the floor.
‘We must all look our best tonight. So you are going.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No!’
‘Yes!’ and up come Mistress Josephine hand and slap her. Make little Rose start howling, run hide her face in Winnie apron. ‘And stop making all that noise. You sound like a bleating goat just before Louis cuts its throat.’ Make little Rose cry even louder.
After Mistress Josephine leave the room, little Rose still sobbing, even though Winnie try to calm her down. Hug her up like Calla used to do. I remember the doll Mary gave me, pull it out, show it to her. Is just a raggedy, mash-up thing, but little Rose look at that doll like is the prettiest doll she seen. She look at me, look at the doll, not sure if she can take it. Finally she reach out, snatch it away. Hold it tight to her chest.
‘Better hide it,’ Winnie say. ‘Will be our secret.’
Little Rose slip it inside her waistband. Start to dry her eyes.