When the Bottom Falls Out, page 1
When the Bottom Falls Out
and other stories
H Nigel Thomas
©2014 H Nigel Thomas
Except for purposes of review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior permission of the publisher.
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We also acknowledge support from the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Arts Council.
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.
Cover design by Ingrid Paulson
Cataloguing data available from Library and Archives Canada
ISBN 978-1-927494-54-7 (ebook)
TSAR Publications
P. O. Box 6996, Station A
Toronto, Ontario M5W 1X7
Canada
www.tsarbooks.com
Contents
Guilty and Innocent
Glimpses Into the Higginsons’ Closet
Caleb’s Tempest
The Headmaster’s Visit
Emory
Garifuna
When the Bottom Falls Out
Jen and Edwin
Benita-the-Blessed
Olivier
Acknowledgements
For my aunt Elmena Dickson, 1910-2001
Guilty and Innocent
“What you mean, pastor?”
“Just like I says, Sister. I ain’t committin’ her to the ground.”
Molly McClean stood on the porch of the recently built manse, so recent that the raw cement burned her nostrils. Her collapsed lips moved nervously. And her yellow rheumy eyes, deep in her narrow chocolate face, tried to focus on the brown earth. The yard still showed the scars where the debris from the recently constructed house had been removed. The red of the plaid kerchief round her head stood out prominently. She was a thin, short woman wearing a green shift. “Pastor Johnson, you ain’t got no right to say you not burying she. You just come here from Kansas. You don’t know a thing ’bout this woman.”
“Sister McClean, I wants you to unnerstand one thang. I take ma orders from the Lord. And your Sister Roberta is a abomination unto the Lord. She done commit murder. And the Lord, He done tell me that she is a reprobate, to be cast in the pit on the last day. It ain’t ma business, Sister, to be yoked with unbelievers. This er, Roberta, she been saved and sanctified ’cordin’ to the Holy Scriptures?”
“I don’ know, Pastor.”
“Well, if she’d a been you’dda known, Sister. A light can’t shine but a body see it, Sister. And I ain’t doing no truck with unbelievers.”
“Pastor, suppose I tell you a little bit of the story? Maybe you will understand. Everybody did think she wouldda hang. Let me tell you the story, Pastor.”
He nodded, pointed to one of the two balcony chairs, and sat in the other.
“It start a dry weather season just like now. It musta been sometime in December or else January ’cause when we get to the shortcut where it all happen, it wasn’t really that long since we did leave Brownie meeting, and that used to finish around half past five. When we get to the short cut, it been already dark and the moon bright. When we was half way up the stretch, we hear footsteps running away from we and through the banana field. And we come frighten ’cause ghosts used to be plenty them times. Anyway was four of us, so we continue walking. When we get where the bluff was high above the road and a little foot track go through the banana plantation down to the river, we see a man lying on the ground. We was afraid. Betsy Brown—God bless her, she done dead and gone—was the first one with the courage to approach the man. “O Gawd, is Bertie! Somebody done stab him. Come look. Blood pouring outta him. Milly and Patricia, go call help. Molly, let we stay here ’til they come back.” That Betsy, give her that. She had brains. She later come a school teacher. Anyhow ’bout ten minutes later the people from the village start to come, and soon after that the police and the ambulance and everybody. Betsy say she think he did done dead; and sure, when the police come, they say they did think so too.
“Well, Pastor Johnson, that was the talk of this village for years ’cause is years the case take. Anyhow lemme come back to that right after. Well, the same night the police find a knife long like my arm sharpen two sides, and a half-nose man in the crowd say that she did buy the piece of steel from him and borrow his file and was working on it for two weeks.
“It really was the dry weather in truth ’cause when the police couldn’ find her for ’bout five days, they was planning to set the canefields round the place on fire ’cause they was certain she hidin’ in them. But they catch her just as they was ’bout to light them.
“Funny thing though, you know, is only ’bout five years ago, I find out the real story. Everybody know he used to beat her, that he cause her one time to lose a child; another time he say that she throw away one—’cause o’ that she ain’t got any friends here—but we going come back to that. Well, she used to get beat steady. But everybody know that wasn’ a reason to take a life.
“Well Bertie, he was a champion steel band man. And they have the funeral on a Saturday. And everybody and all the steel bands from all over the country come. Oh it was a big funeral. When Father Flatelley finish with the sermon there wasn’ a dry eye in the church. And it was the first time a steel band ever play in the church. Father Flatelley he say what a fine, handsome, upright man Bertie been. And ’cause we was sad we all agree. But now I think ’bout it, Pastor, that priest had to run away from here years later ’cause he use to interfere with the altar boys—he was a white man just like you, only thing his eyes wasn’t blue, they was green—so if you put two and two together, you will see why he did find Bertie so nice, ’cause he and Bertie was good friends.
“Well, everybody say she work obeah on Bertie. Bertie mother tell everybody so. And we did all believe it. Bertie mother say Bertie couldn’ leave her ’cause she give Bertie something to eat that tie Bertie to her.
“Well, while all this was going on, there was a nice black woman here from America. She was organizing the maternity wing o’ the hospital in Hanovertown. Her name was Olive Taylor. Plump, brown skin woman with a deep voice, and a smile like melting butter. Well, Olive went to the jail to see her. And Olive she organize to have her friends from America pay for the trial ’cause Olive tell the papers the way men treat women here—and we didn’ have no women lawyers; we have some now—she ain’t think no local lawyer wouldda put his heart into the trial, and if is government what paying the lawyer, well she know he ain’t going do a good job. ’Sides she didn’ know one that wasn’ beating his wife, most o’ them in private. And ain’t that the gospel truth! Lawyer Cole knocked the sight clean out of his wife right eye; and the one what they call Penniston, his wife had to leave he and run away to America. She used to get blows too much. So Olive Taylor, she get money from America, and the lawyer come from England. Tall malatta man, straight like a coconut tree. Before the trial over half the village testify on behalf o’ the accused and the other half on behalf o’ the dead man. And I ain’t think we did know what we was doing ’cause we did all want she to hang. You see, Pastor, you is new here. But the way we see it, it ain’t got no forgiveness for murder. That is we unpardonable sin what the Bible talk ’bout. And even before she kill him, nobody did respect her seeing how she didn’ bring a child to term. People like that we don’ think they clean. And we wouldn’t o’drink water from a glass they touch. But we not so severe now as before.
“Well, that lawyer from England. He was a malatta. When he finished, you couldn’ find the other one for the words he did done wrap him up in. I never hear more ‘whearases’ in my life, and ‘points’, and ‘howevers’, enough to make a body dizzy. So the jury find that she wasn’t guilty. The government appeal and the trial start over again and they get another judge, this time from England. And the judge from England say that she wasn’ guilty either.”
“Well, Sister, that was only man’s judgment; the Lord gon find her guilty at the Last Judgment.”
“Pastor, it so strange that it always happen in the dry season. I watch a car drive by here few minutes ago and all the dust it leave, and it remind me o’ the dust the donkeys was kicking up the days they was looking for her. Funny thing, too, the two trials take place during the dry season. I know this because the first one was bad. I used to have to get up at five and walk a half mile to the big river to get my bath so I could catch the seven o’clock bus to go to town for the trial seeing as I was one o’ the witnesses. All the water in the small river what closer did done dry up. And when the judge pass the verdict after the second trial, that was the same day the rainy season start. It was so heavy that it wash away a bridge. Come to think ’bout it, some preachers like yourself did say that God send the drought to warn us to make the right decision in the case. And when the bridge wash away, some say God was showing us he wasn’ please with the decision what the white man judge from England make. To tell you the truth, Pastor, even though nobody was talking to her and she used to stay sort of locked-up like at her mother house, we was all relieved that the whole thing was over.
“Now, when you tell me you not committing her to the ground, I feel like if we start the trial over again; and Pastor, I don’ think you ha
“Amen to that, Sister McClean, but I ain’t none too certain ’bout the unjust; now ain’t no rain is gonna be a-fallin’ when they is a-burnin’. But puttin’ aside the unjust, Sister, I want you to unnerstand one thang. I take ma orders from the Lord and you takes your orders from me.”
“Pastor Johnson!”
“You ain’t deaf now, Sister McClean. I SAYS YOU TAKES YOUR ORDERS FROM ME. The Bible says that woman is under the governance of man. Here we is, Sister. I’m the man and the Lord’s anointed. Is you goin’ to listen to the voice o’ the Lord or not, Sister?”
Molly McClean looked at him. She had heard little pieces of that nonsense all her life—all that stupidness ’bout men this and men that . . . and the Lord say this and the Lord say that—that got lost between the food she damn well had to scrub people floors and hoe their garden and wash their clothes to find food for her five children, none of whose fathers supported them. Fred once in a while would bring two dollars for the last one, but it wasn’ for the child, it was ’cause he did want to sleep with her. Deep down she felt tired about all this men this and the Lord that.
“You don’ got the right to judge her, Pastor. And I don’ care what the Bible says.”
“If you talks like that, Sister, I gon’ have to summon you ’fore the church board.”
“Why not the throne o’ God, Pastor?” and she left.
It was midday, and the sun was scorching. Her house was about a mile from the Evangelical Manse. It had been no effort getting to the manse. Now it was very tiresome to walk home. She would get there: one step at a time and soon you walk a mile.
Imagine, dead at seventy-nine. Roberta Beckles. She was twenty-one when she killed Bertie. My children was afraid of her. All the children was afraid of her. She just stayed in that house. We used to see her bringing water from the river and after that the standpipe after pipe water come to Hillsdale. Sometimes taking the bus to town. In the last years she take care of her mother, and when she die, she go on living at the house. One good thing, brothers and sisters away never let her down. This one send five dollars, that one ten, that one a parcel. She manage. But is when the village see how nice she take care of her mother Beverley that their hearts start softening towards her.
Molly remembered the day when things really start loosening up between them. Molly was keeping a granddaughter for her daughter what was in Aruba. Beverley had taken for the worse and seeing as how they used to be all Methodist, she went to see Beverley. And her granddaughter, who was ’bout two, took to Roberta and went into her arms, and Molly didn’ know what to say. And every time they passed the gate, her granddaughter would pull her toward the yard and call “Therta.” Then Molly had to go to Trinidad to see another daughter what was there illegal and there was some mix-up ’bout the child birth certificate and she couldn’ carry her, and seein’ that the child did like “Therta” so much, she left her with her for three months. And is so the friendship start up.
Matter o’ fact the night the Evangelicals start their revival, Roberta and she was there. When the power of the Lord knock her down, Roberta did even bend down over her. Funny, Roberta used to go to the Evangelical Church, but she never join it, never get save, nothing. She just used to go; guess ’cause they was new and the Methodists did done wash their mouths on her so.
“Lawd, Molly, you not ’fraid fo’ yo’ granddaughter? Why you not staying away from that woman?”
“You, if you know what good fo’ you, better stay outta my business.” That is how she did have to handle them.
One day, after Beverley did done dead and Roberta was living alone in the house, Roberta come up the hill a little ways to where Molly lived. She did done get just like a ship, big up top and small below, just like her mother people. And she had the big cheek bones and brown skin and broad face and long hair ’cause they was mixed with Carib. A tall woman too. She had on a pleated grey skirt and a cream bodice. And she was barefoot. Just like she in front of she now. She sit down on the piece of wooden plank that form the step, and she say to Molly, “You have such a nice cool breeze up here, and you can see all the way to the sea. I uses to come up to this hill plenty when I was a girl. I uses to just like to watch the sea and dream ’bout travelling.”
“Why you never did travel? You don’ think it wouldda been better to leave all that past behind you? Start a new life somewhere where people don’ know you? I always wonder why you did that to youself.”
“Travel where, Molly? They’s things you don’t know, Molly, ’cause you ain’t never take nobody life. Things that ain’t got nothing to do with lawyers, with trials, and with juries.”
“God know I had it in my thoughts many time to kill my last child father, but I ain’t never had your courage.”
“It ain’t courage, Molly. It ain’t that. It’s something else. Lemme see. You see I was sixteen when I take up with Bertie and he been twenty. ’Bout six months after, I get pregnant, and one night he put one beating on me, I lose the baby. You know the story, ’cause Marjorie did meet me lying just where Bertie leave me, and I couldn’t move, and she call help and move me, and she tell the court that at the trial. Well, you wouldn’ believe what that beating was for, Molly. You probably didn’ believe when you hear it in court. He use to like to have me both ways, but he always used to start the back way. I didn’ like it, and he always used to punch me, and unless I groan for pain he wouldn’ stop. So that night anyhow, I decide he wasn’ going to have me that way, and I insist, and more he beat me more I insist, until he knock me down and kick me in the stomach. I think he did think I dead, ’cause I did pass out.”
“What about the obeah part?”
“Obeah! What obeah? Me work obeah on him! To kill him, yes. To keep him, oh no! I not saying if he was a loving man and he did start to fool ’round with another woman, I wouldn’t o’ try a little something. But I never once enjoy sex with him, and I couldn’ leave him.”
“Don’ talk nonsense.”
She shake her head and she get up and she breathe in deep. “No Molly, he wouldn’ leave me. There’s plenty things we don’ understand in this society. When I tell him we finish, he come and pull me outta my mother house and beat me, right in our yard. When I went to the police station. Big-gut Barrow was sergeant at the time. You know what that swell-gut tell me. ‘What you come to complain on the man for?’ Then, he ask me all kindsa questions ’bout what happen, but he ain’t write nothing down. Then he tell me to go home and he going see ’bout it. Weeks past, and Bertie did done beat me two times since. I go back to him again. He say to me, Swell-gut say to me, ‘I ain’t make no case, ’cause your boyfriend say you done give him something to eat what tie you to him, and is when the something rise up in him that he does beat you. Don’ come back here and waste we time. We is busy people.”
“Well, as you know, we was very poor. Daddy did done stop writing us long time before that. We didn’ know if he was dead or alive in Trinidad. But Ma was thinking ’bout trying for a lawyer. Round ’bout that time that scandal ’bout the civil servant woman and her husband was on the radio and in the papers. You remember the one? I can’t remember her name now. But her husband used to beat her, and she hire a lawyer and sue him for abuse. The lawyer for the husband argue that under the law he could beat her with anything what wasn’t bigger than his thumb. You don’t remember that case?”
“It coming back to me now.”
“Well, anyway the lawyer what represent the woman argue that he used to slap she and that his hand bigger than his thumb. And the judge agree and find the husband guilty. But the sentence was that the husband should go home and live peaceful with his wife. And the lawyer for husband ask the judge, ‘If he hit her with something smaller than his thumb, that legal?’ And the judge nod. That was the part that cause the scandal.”
“Wait, wasn’t that the same woman what put manchineel in her husband tea?”
