MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter forty seven

Okahana, like Charleston, had changed immensely, Gabriel observed as he stood at the beach the morning of the next day. It wasn't the way he recalled it.

The small outlet, that was originally occupied by three red Indian families and a few negroes had developed into a small village of freed negroes. The houses, which he noted earlier upon their arrival, had increased from six to roughly fifteen, even the structure of its buildings had transformed from the usual raffia to plank. Nevertheless, not all had changed, the air was still moist and cold. The beach still had those wonderful pebbles on its shore.

The gigantic mosquitoes were still around and the natural beauty that was followed by a refreshing serenity was still present. He sighed and bent down to pick one of the pebbles.

It was spiral in shape, a bit of shiny green and faintly grey in colour. Enclosing the pebble in his palm, he closed his eyes as he allowed the chilly sea breeze to rush through his body. That morning, he decided to ignore his problems: to ignore his failed relationship with Anne; his father's ludicrous plan to marry off Collete; and his inconspicuos emotional attraction to Iyila. All he wished to do that morning was to enjoy the flawless picture of Okahana and allow the breeze blow away all his stress.

A warm hand on his shoulder reminded him that such desire was delusional. Quite alarmed, he turned to view the individual, it was Martha and she was smilling. She was aging, but her eyes still held the same youthfulness he'd seen on his last visit. He returned the smile before she moved to stand beside him.

"Ya awake so early," she quietly said and crossed her arms over her chest. He nodded, "I did not want to miss the first light of dawn," he said and heard her exhale.

A quick silence followed after, but she broke it before it could spread. "Ha doubt yo' father knows yo' here," she muttered. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Definitely not," he replied. He deliberately omitted that part in the letter he had left in his room for his mother to find. He'd only written about his travelling away to visit an old friend. He'd been precise with the information so as to ward off any form of malicious suspicion. Especially as he considered his going away with a negro... a female negro to be exact. There wasn't any doubt that his father might throw a tantrum, or worse indulge him in a very long verbal war. He recalled they had almost got physical the last time he visited Okahana, before he left for Illinios. He was keen to as avoid any of that, especially after he'd promised Susan that he would avoid such occurrences.

"Ya hav'not change, as stubborn as ever," she remarked. A warm cackle escaped his lips, most people called him stubborn but he preferred defiant.

"But ya have grown taller," she added, gazing up at him. "Every one says I have," he said.

"I hadn't believed it until I stood eye shot with my father, then I realized that I have indeed grown, which I personally consider quite ridiculous for a man my age," he said. She laughed, "True, buh ya shoud know ya aint no just any man."

He smiled, while growing up as a young child he'd always believed his father to be more than any other man. To be more powerful than any other man and he'd always doubted the thought of any man being as tall as his father.

He'd seen his father as a god, but as time went on he began to realise that all of that was childish nonsense. It felt like yesterday when he was but a fourteen year old boy, cringing in his father's presence and fretting over his build. But not only had he realised that he was of the same height as his father, which he'd noted upon their last argument, he'd also seen that he was a few inches above his father. Some considered his build hideous. Some said it was egocentrically intimidating, while others just stared with sheer amazement. At first he'd been disturbed with the mixed reaction of people towards his height, but as time moved forward he began to see it as a compliment.