I took a shaky breath, my mama placed a hand on my shoulder. 'Did he tell you why '? Mary looked at her incredulously, mama sighed and shook her head at her. 'Never mind that. Naomi -' I turned around, ' I didn't do anything mama ', she raised her brow at me, ' I never said you did'. ' But -', she shook her head at me. 'Just go. But remember, answer them with a yes sir or no sir. Never say anything that might be used against you. Never ever look at them straight in the eye for long '!
I stepped into the main house to the parlour through the servant section. The sun was streaming through the open window and Mr Stanley Jr was sitting backing it, his blond hair shinning golden against the setting sun. His green eyes so dark against the sun, I couldn't be sure what he was thinking. Beside him was his father, Mr Stanley, in all his white haired glory. He'd taken off his hat, and it was probably hanging on the cap hook - when Mrs Stanley had been alive, she couldn't condon hats or caps in the house and so her husband and son had continued the tradition of hanging their hats on the hooks just inside, by the door, and even Mrs Stanley Jr had adopted this mindset from her late mother-in-law and continued to badger both men. Mr Stanley's we're dark as well, and I was left wandering what this was all about.
' Come child ' Mr Stanley motioned me closer with a just of his chin. I took a step closer and stopped. The sun was in my eyes but I didn't dare move closer. I could almost swear his eyes twinkled and Mr Stanley Jr was smiling. My shoulders slummed down in relief; everything was alright, but still I had to be wary and careful, this were the people that had bought my parent and I after all, and probably my grandparents too.
I took several steps closer, the sun was behind me now and I could see their faces clearly.'Do you like it here child'? Mr Stanley asked, leaning back on the couch. ' Yes sir '. I replied.
' Do we treat you well '? What was he getting at? ' Yes sir '.
'What do you think if we let you work in the house instead of out in the farm all day'? I jerked my head up, starting at him in disbelief. What did he mean? Was he trying to take me away from my few friends? What about my mama? She worked in the farm all day, didn't she? We're they trying to take me away from her?
I folded my hands at my back and continued to gaze at him unwaveringly, my eyes narrowed in wariness. ' You see right there ', Mr Stanley Jr proclaimed. My eyes swerved to him. ' That is why I think she'd be a good influence for our Abigail'. Mr Stanley fingered his beard and stared intently at me. ' I know we had this conversation before Junior, but it's only now I'm really seeing what you've been talking about; her confidence, her loyalty to her people and her relunctance to come here because of them '. My gaze averted from one to the other, confused at what they were saying.
' Well what do you think Naomi '? Mr Stanley Jr smiled at me, ' would you like to be our little Abigail's hand maid '? I dropped my eyes to the ground, contemplating. What had my mama told me earlier? I should never say anything that might be used against me. Well, what would she have wanted me to say?
I raised my head up. ' It'd be me pleasure sirs '.
°°°°°°°
When I went home that evening, mama was in the room as I had expected. She'd changed out of her work dress and into her practical sleep wear, a shapeless grey gown that reached over her knees with half sleeves and a rounded neck. Her brown skin shone like it normally does when she applies her nightly oiling and she was sitting on the old stool by the corner of the room, braiding her hair.
That old stool used to be about ready to fall apart, constantly wobbling from any slight weight, that is, until daddy got tired and went at it with the hammer and some nails.
There was no mirror in the room, not even a piece of broken glass for one to look on. The walls bare apart from the hand-stitched quilt strewn across the grey walls.
There were two other furnitures in the room, a small bed situated at the corner, which was mine and a larger bed for my parents. Both beds were slightly elevated above the ground but I liked to sit on my parent's bed the most. It was not as soft, infact, it was rather lumpy but I liked to sit on it anyway, because it was higher than mine and I could swing my legs when sitting on it. Although my feet could touch the ground, it was much better than swinging my feet on my bed, where it felt like I was sweeping the dirt off the floor with my feet.
I sat on the large bed and mama turned to me, a bunch of black curly hair held in her hand. ' How was it '? She asked. I turned to her and shrugged. ' They wanted me to start work in the house as Miss Abigail's maid '. She stared at me for a while, the bunch of hair stuck in her hand still. ' And what did you say '? I jumped down, getting ready to change for the night. ' What do you think me said '? She shrugged, turning back to continue braiding her hair. ' No matter what we say or want, the final decision is theirs to make. Don't forget that Naomi. It is wisdom to k ow one's place '. She turned to stare at me again, her dark eyes boring into mine. ' Remember I other parts of the world, that knowledge will save your life's. She finished braiding her hair and walked up to me, I was completely changed into a pink, thread bare cotton dress that had buttons running down it's front. ' I'll wash the clothes you'd just pulled and add them to the others tomorrow '. She pulled an old, sturdy, light brown wooden box that was probably her's or daddy's and placed it on the bed. It was filled with most of my belongings, except the clothes I had on, which amounted to very few. I turned to her,my mouth hanging open in disbelief.
' You knew '?
She nodded, her eyes trained on the scratched surface of the box. ' They called for me this morning, your daddy and I. I was so scared '. And I was surprised, this was the first time my mama had ever told me in plain words, exactly how she felt.' I thought they were going to take you away from us and we'll be unable to stop them.That's why you must be careful when you go to live with them. The Stanley's are different but be careful '. She turned and stared me deep in the eye. ' Never forget who you are and where you came fromRemember that it's just few more years to reach the 50th year, to be free. Know your place among them but know who you are '. She softly jabbed her finger against my chest. Then she smiled, retracing her hand away and pushing the box back under the bed. ' Now let's get you to bed, to -'' But can me not stay up to see daddy'? I protested as she tugged me unto my bed and Drew up my things blanket up to my chin. ' Not tonight Naomi, you
'Say, winter is just around the corner'. Abigail lay on her bed on her stomach, her feet raised up and her dress falling to pool around her, altogether looking very unlady-like.'Mm hm', I murmured, concentrating on stitching a tear on her silk stockings, the type her mother liked and the ones Abigail was frequently destroying, only because they were more in number than her cotton ones. So there I sat, trying to stitch it carefully and neatly - which is rather difficult since the tear was not running along the seams but right through the middle, not very conspicuous you see-, so Mrs Stanly does not start a row with Abigail and somehow include all innocent and wary bystanders into it.'Well, i wish we could go outside you see, while the weather is still warm. I'm so bored, can we not go outside'? She had my attention now and i raised my head to watch her, her gaze directed to the open window, chin resting on her palms, looking forlorn. She sigh
Two years back,'What are you doing today Miss Abigail'?'Language. And really Naomi, have i not told you not to call me "Miss",it is Abigail between the two of us '.'Yes ma'am-''Abigail''Yes Abigail'. She smiled, pleased to have gotten her way.'Come on let's go. Miss Venice should be waiting for us'. We hurried upstairs to Abigail's schoolroom.Miss Venice was round. Her middle jiggled when she walked and you could see the many stomach folds behind her tightened girdle. She had a chubby, smiley face with quaint facial features, a sweet, calm demeanor but had a mean streak about her. Her pretty long fingers were almost alway fiddling with the ropes on her gown. And you really couldn't see her belly folds unless you truly looked.But Miss Venice had one problem - apart from, in the societies eye, the fact that she was a score and four years and yet unmarried and that she was Fre
Death hung heavily in the air.The solemn tolling of the church bell rang across the fields and through the distance to the ears of those in the Stanley's house. I was outside by the cloth line, hanging up my clothes when i heard the distant sound of the church bell. A wave of shivers ran up my spine and i frowned, a slight fold forming between my brows as i stared across the distance.Quickly, i shoved the shoulder of my dress into the wooden peg and hurried to the house. On the way, i saw James the stable boy and withheld him. 'What is going on? Why i the church bell ringing when it is not service day'? I inquired. 'Well ma'am, seems loike Mrs Daniel has finally gone to meet the Lord'. I gasped and let him go. Could that really be true? Sprinting into the house, i noticed the disheveled state it was in, every one seemed to be gravitating to the drawing room, and so i myself moved in that direction, shoving and pushing people out of the way as i went. 'Out of
I had learnt a long time ago that the world didn't work as one planned and the orange wasn't ever shared equally.One year back,I used to have this nightmares when i was younger, and then i had it again, four years after i had first been assigned as Abigail's hand maid. It was almost always the same scenery;i was on a boat or a ship because the ground swayed. Voices bounced around and above me and sometimes it blended with the hum of the ocean. I was in a dark room along with others, although i could not see them, i heard them, shuffling, coughing, children crying and sometimes hums that turned to singing.Foot steps echoed above us as the person pounded down the stairs. I was singing softly along with the crowd which were already quietening. 'Who said ye baboons were allowed to sing' . His booming voice hollered across the room. He stepped threateningly towards me, i could see his
I had learnt a long time ago that the world didn't work as one planned and the orange wasn't ever shared equally.One year back,I used to have this nightmares when i was younger, and then i had it again, four years after i had first been assigned as Abigail's hand maid. It was almost always the same scenery;i was on a boat or a ship because the ground swayed. Voices bounced around and above me and sometimes it blended with the hum of the ocean. I was in a dark room along with others, although i could not see them, i heard them, shuffling, coughing, children crying and sometimes hums that turned to singing.Foot steps echoed above us as the person pounded down the stairs. I was singing softly along with the crowd which were already quietening. 'Who said ye baboons were allowed to sing' . His booming voice hollered across the room. He stepped threateningly towards me, i could see his
Six years in the fifty years, two years to the fifthiet yearWhen i was a child, my mama used to sing me a poem when i woke up from the nightmares. She'd wipe my sweat and brush away the hair sticking to my face.These handshave subdued stubborn junglesunmasked fertile grovesand plumbed the seedful promiseof loamy plainsThe handscalloused like a tortoise shellhave tended tendrils, joyous,in their leafy danceon the spine of stakeshoed heaps cleanunearthed the venom of wayward weed-she'd pull my hair playfully and smile down on my giggling face-These palmshave lost their linesto the mahogany handleof a thousand machetesthe finger crooked by constant clutching-'like you know who', she wiggled her brows at me and i laughed, 'daddy'.'Ahh you said it not me'-These handsha
Six years in the fifty years, two years to the fifthiet yearWhen i was a child, my mama used to sing me a poem when i woke up from the nightmares. She'd wipe my sweat and brush away the hair sticking to my face.These handshave subdued stubborn junglesunmasked fertile grovesand plumbed the seedful promiseof loamy plainsThe handscalloused like a tortoise shellhave tended tendrils, joyous,in their leafy danceon the spine of stakeshoed heaps cleanunearthed the venom of wayward weed-she'd pull my hair playfully and smile down on my giggling face-These palmshave lost their linesto the mahogany handleof a thousand machetesthe finger crooked by constant clutching-'like you know who', she wiggled her brows at me and i laughed, 'daddy'.'Ahh you said it not me'-These handshave crad