Calypso's Island

Chapter 3 - OLD WIVES TALES

"Monsieur! Monsieur! Hurry! Petticoat rebellion at the mill house!"

A house slave hears me and picks up my words and shouts them. Another girl hears her and starts shouting it as well. Granny hears them both and comes running with wet hands that she dries off in her apron.

Then we listen to the sound of his boots firing down the stairs. He's fast, blue eyed, blond, lean and long legged. There's a whip in his hand. He takes 3 stairs at a time, jumps the landing and rushes past us. He reaches the door and turns right back to kiss me and dashes out again.

Kina is delighted. She even claps. I know the whole house is bound to get an ear full of the wanton gossip before nightfall. Granny knows it too. She takes my hand and looks Kina up and down as if to ask why she's still standing there.

"Woman go and do yer blasted work fer meh please. Damn lazy."

Kina pouts and slinks away. I smile. I wish I were more like Granny.

Stephanie bookmarked the diary and glanced at the counter. Her order was ready. She inhaled the aroma and perked up her taste buds. As much as she enjoyed Josephine's estate she couldn't resist giving it a break and coming here to continue her reading. This was a franchise coffee house on the outskirts of Port of Spain, the exact brand name of the many she frequented abroad. It was a favorite of hers. There was close-knit seating, AC, Wi-Fi and her preferred snacks and blends.

The waiter was bringing her double Expresso. She put the diary aside and sat up. He seemed to be a young awkward newbie. He smiled, but it was forced. His hands trembled slightly under her drink and he didn't seem to know how to place it. She shifted the diary just in time. The hot spill hit her blouse and dribbled into the waistline of her jeans.

Stephanie couldn't decide if she should be angrier about the hot, wet liquid oozing down her chest or the waste of perfectly good coffee.

"You fool! Look at what you did!"

He was taken aback. Other staff members turned their heads to see and the customers looked concerned, probably imagining the same terrible scenario happening to them. The waiter cleaned up the mess with attitude. Stephanie was fuming.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"Nothin. Allyuh red ting feel allyuh could talk down ter people nah. Whey yuh hadda call meh ah fool for? Is jus ah accident."

Stephanie lost it.

"Yes it's a stupid accident, yes it's your fault, and that makes you a fool! And throwing outmoded racist comments at me doesn't change that."

She grabbed her stuff and stormed away to find the manager. 10 minutes and many official apologies later, she came out of it with 2 free cups of coffee and free anything else she would like while she enjoyed the ambience. It took her a while to enjoy it again. She had to simmer down. She managed to laugh at herself. Wasn't she at a spot in the diary where Angelique was at her wits end with a more archaic version of the same nonsense?

Angelique was strong. She had good temperament. Stephanie knew that if it were her she might have got into an all out fistfight with some of the malicious personas that surrounded Angelique. But would this ancestor of hers get past the antagonism to grasp the magic that Josephine mentioned? She opened the diary again. It was time to find out.

So I make it to Granny's kitchen. It's large like the main hall in this house and the floor is hardened patted down mud and there are wares, washbasins, tables and strange herbs every which way. It's rustic in here yet it seems more like home to me than the whole big house put together. Ah! And there's bon nouritture, the good food. I smell smoked poisson d'eau et boeuf savoureux and Granny's fruits and special preserves. There are many other mixtures and pots that I have no idea about. I never ask though. I can not bear her gaze when I question too much.

Then she smiles and rubs my pregnant belly.

"Belle Angelique. Almost sweetheart. Yuh almost there."

I ask her. "Granny do you think it will be a boy? Monsieur wants a boy child."

She doesn't answer me just yet. She adjusts her head tie and checks on her kneaded dough. She has 3 soft loaves ready for the mud oven outside. She walks away to go put them in. I'm curious about my child and why my appetite is so plentiful. Food should sicken me but it doesn't. I always eat everything Granny puts on my plate because no one cooks the way she can.

The more I think about those things in the kitchen we are forbidden to investigate, even my the lord of the house does not touch it, the more I think that she's more than just our cook and a midwife in truth. The slaves have another name for her. They say she's their Obeah Woman or spiritual leader. I know she's that wise and she knows so many things. It's why Kina and the others won't tangle with her and why her word is law in this place.

I hear the clip clop of slippers and she returns, smelling of firewood and sponge cakes. She puts two of those on a table and folds her arms and lifts her head at me. I know what that means. The action says why am I so precocious to ask about the child being a boy or girl.

"Can't you tell me Granny?"

She puts a sweet prune in my mouth to shut me up, but she answers me anyway.

"Some things is best ter leave alone. Sometimes when yuh find out too much that is thunder. Yuh could handle thunder Madame Angelique? Here..."

She pours hot tealeaves into a bowl and starts to read them. The patterns speak to her. She sees what will be and she frowns at me and shows me the inside of the bowl. I don't understand it. All I see are plain old leaves and then she starts to interpret them.

"Oh gorm sweetheart. This not good at all. Your family tie up in some serious magic. An de power like ah navel string running deep inside this island. When ah tell yuh, it strong! And it going to affect yuh baby unless yuh baptize as a Roman Catholic. Yuh understand meh? Seek God ter get out from under it or your child going to suffer. An ah mean real wicked suffering. Is only pain ahead."

I feel tears collecting in my eyes. I get up because I don't believe it. This is mon cher Granny giving me bad prophesy. I shake my head and start crying because she's never been wrong about anything before, but I need her to be wrong about this. I touch my belly as if to reassure my boy child that he will be ok. He is too precious to me so she has to be wrong. I need her to say that she's mistaken but she says nothing.

Then I see her face in front of mine. It softens to sympathy. I hear my Monsieur's French echoing from the halls as he comes back in. I smell the good bread and food and every sensation brings on sickness. Everything goes dim. After that there's only the sound of my own voice bawling, screeching, screaming.