Mosana - Part XIII
EPISODE 13
Remember when I talked about Amy Russell? It didn’t take a genius to guess that she was in love with Flint. That’s how she was different from her mother. She actually liked one of us. Whether the man had a clue, I didn’t know. But to me, it was as clear as day. She was nice only to him, but in her mother’s presence, she had to pretend to be hardcore. She was nice to the rest of us only when Flint was around. The moment you were alone with her, she became a replica of her mother.
Within me, I laughed at the poor thing. Flint would never look at her twice. One, her mother would have his head if she so much as got a whiff of anything untoward between them, and two, she was white. It would go against our struggle as black slaves. We would never have accepted their union, even if Flint liked her. But he didn’t.
Maybe he knew of her intentions and pretended not to notice, or maybe he didn’t know at all, but Flint didn’t give her a chance. He looked straight ahead whenever she spoke to him; he refused to look into her eyes. He answered her always with a ‘yes, ma’am’ whenever she called, even though she was younger than he was. He bowed when he entered her presence and repeated the gesture when he left. I wasn’t always there, but I could tell it infuriated her to no end. She wanted a cordial, informal relationship with Flint, but that was not possible under her mother’s roof. It was always going to be Mistress and slave between them. And that’s exactly how I wanted it.
Because I liked Flint too. And I could tell he liked me.
But just like the way things were between Amy and Flint, sadly, it was the same with us. We were goners if we were ever caught together. Master Wells had made it abundantly clear that there were to be no intimate relationships. He didn’t want us making babies under his watch. Other families with slaves allowed marriage and child bearing so they could breed more slaves, but not here in the Russell Manor. Madam Russell preferred buying grown slaves who could be trained not to make mistakes, instead of seeing her slaves taking care of babies when they could be working on her farms.
So we never said anything to each other. But I could tell, anytime we were alone, that he had feelings for me. From the way he lingered, to the way he handed me tools to use, to the way he called my name sometimes. And the way he looked at me…
And when he took that beating for me, I needed no other proof. Amy had been prepping to give me the beating herself, but when she saw that Flint took the fall for it... well, I imagined how she must have looked. More painful it would have been for her was when she had to flog Flint herself, with her mother standing guard.
When I ran to see him after the beating was over, I almost cried out from the marks that were on his body. His sisters tended to him as I stood there trembling. But they weren’t angry with me. Then Flint saw me standing there and smiled.
For God’s sake. He smiled.
He was bruised all over, but he smiled.
‘Hey, Mo,’ he called to me jovially.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ I said, my voice breaking.
‘Hey, don’t throw my niceness in my face now.’
My tears choked up my throat. ‘H-How are you?’ I realised the stupidity of the question as soon as it was out of my mouth. Of course he wasn’t alright!
But he answered me. ‘Stings like a bitch, but I’ll live. Melinda knows how to work magic with her fingers.’
I didn’t say anything more, just watched his sisters put clean bandages on him.
Then, ‘Are you just gonna stand there, or come give me a hug?’
I didn’t need to be told twice. I ran to him and threw my hands around his shoulders. His sisters stopped their ministrations and let me have him. I held him and cried. He held me tighter and soothed me when he was the one that needed soothing. Then I cried harder when he whispered the words, ‘I would do it all over again for you.’
With time, I understood why Judy, a pale-faced 16 year old girl with a small frame was so quiet. I finally decided to ask Flint about her one day. He tried to dodge the question as usual, but this time, I wasn’t to be denied. My curiosity had multiplied in vast proportions to be left in suspense. I had already tried talking to her myself, but the only time I tried it, she practically ran away from me. So one day I couldn’t take it anymore and made Flint tell me. I had found Judy in a corner of the servants’ quarters, quietly crying. It wasn’t like it was new; we were all used to it. Whenever she cried, we simply left her to herself, for no matter how much you pressured her, she would never tell you what was wrong. She wouldn’t even let you comfort her.
‘What’s wrong with Judy?’ I asked that day.
‘Nothing. She’s fine.’
‘She’s been crying for almost the entire afternoon. She’s not fine!’
‘Oh, you know how she is. You should be used to her by now.’ Flint refused to look at me, because he knew that by then, there would be thunder in my eyes.
‘You know I mean more than that, Flint,’ I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands in the air. ‘Why does she always cry? Why does she talk to nobody? She’s not just quiet, she’s depressed! Why does she sit alone in a corner with an expression that suggests she carries all the world’s problems? What’s wrong with Judy, for God’s sake?’
When Flint still kept mute, I wanted to burst. ‘Flint!’
‘Fine. Fine. But keep your voice down and listen. We don’t spread the story around because once somebody new finds out about her, she always knows. She detects the pity in your eyes the next time she sees you. That’s how she knows. So don’t go feeling sorry for her, okay? Thinking of her as depressed, quiet, reserved or whatever is better for her than knowing you pity her.’
He paused to make sure I understood. ‘I won’t say anything, I promise.’
Then he told me. ‘Judy had a family. Hers was the first family Madam Russell bought at a time… and the last. Something terrible happened. When Judy was ten, her father caught Mr. Russell, Master of the Manor and Madam Russell’s husband, with his fingers in his daughter’s skirts. He had been sexually molesting the child, and God knows how long this had been going on. Judy’s father could take beatings and insults and abuses on himself and his family, but he wouldn’t take some fool touching his little girl. So with the rage that can only be found in an angry black man, especially one who’s been oppressed for so long, he rushed for Mr. Russell’s shotgun hanging on the wall and shot the man dead in the face before he could react.
The noise attracted Master Wells, Madam Russell and her daughter. Master Wells came in prepared with his gun and held Judy captive. In his confusion, Judy’s father couldn’t protect his daughter. He was still staring at the blood on his hands, shocked at what he had just done. So with his daughter held hostage, he couldn’t do anything as they marched him outside. Everyone gathered. Madam Russell had recovered from her shock and now held the same gun Judy’s father had used in killing her husband. She pointed it at Judy’s father, with Judy screaming his name, shouting for them to stop. Then Madam Russell had a strange idea. She ordered for everyone to come closer. She wanted a public execution. Judy’s father was powerless. They held his daughter just a few feet from him. She told all of us what Judy’s father had done, but the man shouted back his defense. He told us what Mr. Russell had done. Nobody moved. We were forced to watch. Then Judy’s mother was brought forward. And before our eyes, she was shot first. She didn’t even know what happened, but she suffered Madam Russell’s vengeance first.
Judy’s father began to beg. He felt they were going for his daughter next. He was sure they were going to kill his whole family before his eyes before killing him. But like I said, Madam Russell was full of strange ideas. So with venom in her tongue, she looked straight into Judy’s father’s eyes and told him, “You’ll die next, but I want to make sure you know this. Your daughter will live with the memory of what happened here today. I won’t kill her, but I promise you it will be worse than death for her here. Without you or her mother to protect her, I will ensure her life is miserable. She is going to serve me till she dies!” Satisfied with the pain in his eyes, she shot him. Dead in the face like he had shot her husband.
Judy went numb from that day. She wouldn’t speak, she wouldn’t eat. It took months to get her back to some semblance of normalcy. She has barely spoken ever since.’
Flint ended his tale. I was numb too, for a few seconds. I knew Madam Russell was brutal, but I didn’t know she was a witch. Judy had had to carry that pain for six years, alone. To have your family killed before your eyes...
Even though life had come to a stop for Judy, it continued for the rest of us in the Russell Manor. I woke up to chores from dusk till dawn, with only a few hours of rest in between. I worked in the house, I worked on the farm, I cleaned stables, I tended animals. Everyone had to be flexible in the Manor. Madam Russell didn’t want to depend on anyone for anything. If one person could not do it, another person could. No one was indispensable.
By the end of my first year there, I was an expert on virtually everything. I was almost as good as Flint. I could tend gardens as if I took a course on it in the university, I could tell the difference between different species of the same crop, I had a friendly rapport with the animals, I even knew when to appear before Madam Russell, before she called me. I knew the exact quantity of sugar to put in her tea without measuring, I mastered how Amy liked her pillows.
Because of how fast I learnt, the beatings reduced. They reduced, but they didn’t stop. Soon, I had a couple of new slaves under me I had to train in the ways of the Manor. Flint was proud of me. The knowledge of this made me glow. So I worked harder. Not because I wanted to receive the Employee of the Year Award, but because I loved Flint. I loved the way he smiled when I got something right. He wasn’t the eldest slave in the Manor, but he was the smartest, and I found out that his way was the safest way to stay sane in the Manor. Even the elderly amongst us looked up to him sometimes. Flint did more than show me the ropes. He made me a double of himself. I knew what he knew, did what he did, went where he went, except of course, one of the Mistresses summoned him.
One day, while I was helping him stack up grains for the winter, he playfully came up behind me and whispered in my ear, ‘You did good today.’
He was only playing, but my heartbeat had increased speed of its own accord. I instinctively leaned into him and he took the hint. He dropped the sack he was holding and wrapped his arms around me. I relished the current of pleasure that went through me at that. Then he began to nibble my ear and I closed my eyes, simply enjoying him there.
‘You two are gon’ get us all in trouble if you don’t stop your frolicking.’
It was Ms. Nan, and elderly woman whose sole purpose in the Manor was to wash clothes. She even washed ours sometimes. I think she enjoyed it. She was too old to do anything else anyway.
Faster than lightning, we sprang apart and looked at our feet, embarrassment colouring our cheeks.
Ms. Nan was still talking. ‘And you, young man, you should know better. You gotta keep your hands off her if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Flint answered meekly. But I knew he was far from sorry.
‘Now scram. Hurry along to bed.’
‘Yes, Ms. Nan, right away, ma’am.’
Before he obeyed her instructions, Flint grabbed me by the waist and spun me around. Then he planted the quickest kiss ever recorded on my lips before he left. He also gave one to Ms. Nan on her cheek.
That night, I slept with a smile on my face. But the gods that always made sure clouds overshadowed my silver lining weren’t asleep. They came for me. And they wiped the smile right off my face.
Remember when I talked about Amy Russell? It didn’t take a genius to guess that she was in love with Flint. That’s how she was different from her mother. She actually liked one of us. Whether the man had a clue, I didn’t know. But to me, it was as clear as day. She was nice only to him, but in her mother’s presence, she had to pretend to be hardcore. She was nice to the rest of us only when Flint was around. The moment you were alone with her, she became a replica of her mother.
Within me, I laughed at the poor thing. Flint would never look at her twice. One, her mother would have his head if she so much as got a whiff of anything untoward between them, and two, she was white. It would go against our struggle as black slaves. We would never have accepted their union, even if Flint liked her. But he didn’t.
Maybe he knew of her intentions and pretended not to notice, or maybe he didn’t know at all, but Flint didn’t give her a chance. He looked straight ahead whenever she spoke to him; he refused to look into her eyes. He answered her always with a ‘yes, ma’am’ whenever she called, even though she was younger than he was. He bowed when he entered her presence and repeated the gesture when he left. I wasn’t always there, but I could tell it infuriated her to no end. She wanted a cordial, informal relationship with Flint, but that was not possible under her mother’s roof. It was always going to be Mistress and slave between them. And that’s exactly how I wanted it.
Because I liked Flint too. And I could tell he liked me.
But just like the way things were between Amy and Flint, sadly, it was the same with us. We were goners if we were ever caught together. Master Wells had made it abundantly clear that there were to be no intimate relationships. He didn’t want us making babies under his watch. Other families with slaves allowed marriage and child bearing so they could breed more slaves, but not here in the Russell Manor. Madam Russell preferred buying grown slaves who could be trained not to make mistakes, instead of seeing her slaves taking care of babies when they could be working on her farms.
So we never said anything to each other. But I could tell, anytime we were alone, that he had feelings for me. From the way he lingered, to the way he handed me tools to use, to the way he called my name sometimes. And the way he looked at me…
And when he took that beating for me, I needed no other proof. Amy had been prepping to give me the beating herself, but when she saw that Flint took the fall for it... well, I imagined how she must have looked. More painful it would have been for her was when she had to flog Flint herself, with her mother standing guard.
When I ran to see him after the beating was over, I almost cried out from the marks that were on his body. His sisters tended to him as I stood there trembling. But they weren’t angry with me. Then Flint saw me standing there and smiled.
For God’s sake. He smiled.
He was bruised all over, but he smiled.
‘Hey, Mo,’ he called to me jovially.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ I said, my voice breaking.
‘Hey, don’t throw my niceness in my face now.’
My tears choked up my throat. ‘H-How are you?’ I realised the stupidity of the question as soon as it was out of my mouth. Of course he wasn’t alright!
But he answered me. ‘Stings like a bitch, but I’ll live. Melinda knows how to work magic with her fingers.’
I didn’t say anything more, just watched his sisters put clean bandages on him.
Then, ‘Are you just gonna stand there, or come give me a hug?’
I didn’t need to be told twice. I ran to him and threw my hands around his shoulders. His sisters stopped their ministrations and let me have him. I held him and cried. He held me tighter and soothed me when he was the one that needed soothing. Then I cried harder when he whispered the words, ‘I would do it all over again for you.’
With time, I understood why Judy, a pale-faced 16 year old girl with a small frame was so quiet. I finally decided to ask Flint about her one day. He tried to dodge the question as usual, but this time, I wasn’t to be denied. My curiosity had multiplied in vast proportions to be left in suspense. I had already tried talking to her myself, but the only time I tried it, she practically ran away from me. So one day I couldn’t take it anymore and made Flint tell me. I had found Judy in a corner of the servants’ quarters, quietly crying. It wasn’t like it was new; we were all used to it. Whenever she cried, we simply left her to herself, for no matter how much you pressured her, she would never tell you what was wrong. She wouldn’t even let you comfort her.
‘What’s wrong with Judy?’ I asked that day.
‘Nothing. She’s fine.’
‘She’s been crying for almost the entire afternoon. She’s not fine!’
‘Oh, you know how she is. You should be used to her by now.’ Flint refused to look at me, because he knew that by then, there would be thunder in my eyes.
‘You know I mean more than that, Flint,’ I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands in the air. ‘Why does she always cry? Why does she talk to nobody? She’s not just quiet, she’s depressed! Why does she sit alone in a corner with an expression that suggests she carries all the world’s problems? What’s wrong with Judy, for God’s sake?’
When Flint still kept mute, I wanted to burst. ‘Flint!’
‘Fine. Fine. But keep your voice down and listen. We don’t spread the story around because once somebody new finds out about her, she always knows. She detects the pity in your eyes the next time she sees you. That’s how she knows. So don’t go feeling sorry for her, okay? Thinking of her as depressed, quiet, reserved or whatever is better for her than knowing you pity her.’
He paused to make sure I understood. ‘I won’t say anything, I promise.’
Then he told me. ‘Judy had a family. Hers was the first family Madam Russell bought at a time… and the last. Something terrible happened. When Judy was ten, her father caught Mr. Russell, Master of the Manor and Madam Russell’s husband, with his fingers in his daughter’s skirts. He had been sexually molesting the child, and God knows how long this had been going on. Judy’s father could take beatings and insults and abuses on himself and his family, but he wouldn’t take some fool touching his little girl. So with the rage that can only be found in an angry black man, especially one who’s been oppressed for so long, he rushed for Mr. Russell’s shotgun hanging on the wall and shot the man dead in the face before he could react.
The noise attracted Master Wells, Madam Russell and her daughter. Master Wells came in prepared with his gun and held Judy captive. In his confusion, Judy’s father couldn’t protect his daughter. He was still staring at the blood on his hands, shocked at what he had just done. So with his daughter held hostage, he couldn’t do anything as they marched him outside. Everyone gathered. Madam Russell had recovered from her shock and now held the same gun Judy’s father had used in killing her husband. She pointed it at Judy’s father, with Judy screaming his name, shouting for them to stop. Then Madam Russell had a strange idea. She ordered for everyone to come closer. She wanted a public execution. Judy’s father was powerless. They held his daughter just a few feet from him. She told all of us what Judy’s father had done, but the man shouted back his defense. He told us what Mr. Russell had done. Nobody moved. We were forced to watch. Then Judy’s mother was brought forward. And before our eyes, she was shot first. She didn’t even know what happened, but she suffered Madam Russell’s vengeance first.
Judy’s father began to beg. He felt they were going for his daughter next. He was sure they were going to kill his whole family before his eyes before killing him. But like I said, Madam Russell was full of strange ideas. So with venom in her tongue, she looked straight into Judy’s father’s eyes and told him, “You’ll die next, but I want to make sure you know this. Your daughter will live with the memory of what happened here today. I won’t kill her, but I promise you it will be worse than death for her here. Without you or her mother to protect her, I will ensure her life is miserable. She is going to serve me till she dies!” Satisfied with the pain in his eyes, she shot him. Dead in the face like he had shot her husband.
Judy went numb from that day. She wouldn’t speak, she wouldn’t eat. It took months to get her back to some semblance of normalcy. She has barely spoken ever since.’
Flint ended his tale. I was numb too, for a few seconds. I knew Madam Russell was brutal, but I didn’t know she was a witch. Judy had had to carry that pain for six years, alone. To have your family killed before your eyes...
Even though life had come to a stop for Judy, it continued for the rest of us in the Russell Manor. I woke up to chores from dusk till dawn, with only a few hours of rest in between. I worked in the house, I worked on the farm, I cleaned stables, I tended animals. Everyone had to be flexible in the Manor. Madam Russell didn’t want to depend on anyone for anything. If one person could not do it, another person could. No one was indispensable.
By the end of my first year there, I was an expert on virtually everything. I was almost as good as Flint. I could tend gardens as if I took a course on it in the university, I could tell the difference between different species of the same crop, I had a friendly rapport with the animals, I even knew when to appear before Madam Russell, before she called me. I knew the exact quantity of sugar to put in her tea without measuring, I mastered how Amy liked her pillows.
Because of how fast I learnt, the beatings reduced. They reduced, but they didn’t stop. Soon, I had a couple of new slaves under me I had to train in the ways of the Manor. Flint was proud of me. The knowledge of this made me glow. So I worked harder. Not because I wanted to receive the Employee of the Year Award, but because I loved Flint. I loved the way he smiled when I got something right. He wasn’t the eldest slave in the Manor, but he was the smartest, and I found out that his way was the safest way to stay sane in the Manor. Even the elderly amongst us looked up to him sometimes. Flint did more than show me the ropes. He made me a double of himself. I knew what he knew, did what he did, went where he went, except of course, one of the Mistresses summoned him.
One day, while I was helping him stack up grains for the winter, he playfully came up behind me and whispered in my ear, ‘You did good today.’
He was only playing, but my heartbeat had increased speed of its own accord. I instinctively leaned into him and he took the hint. He dropped the sack he was holding and wrapped his arms around me. I relished the current of pleasure that went through me at that. Then he began to nibble my ear and I closed my eyes, simply enjoying him there.
‘You two are gon’ get us all in trouble if you don’t stop your frolicking.’
It was Ms. Nan, and elderly woman whose sole purpose in the Manor was to wash clothes. She even washed ours sometimes. I think she enjoyed it. She was too old to do anything else anyway.
Faster than lightning, we sprang apart and looked at our feet, embarrassment colouring our cheeks.
Ms. Nan was still talking. ‘And you, young man, you should know better. You gotta keep your hands off her if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Flint answered meekly. But I knew he was far from sorry.
‘Now scram. Hurry along to bed.’
‘Yes, Ms. Nan, right away, ma’am.’
Before he obeyed her instructions, Flint grabbed me by the waist and spun me around. Then he planted the quickest kiss ever recorded on my lips before he left. He also gave one to Ms. Nan on her cheek.
That night, I slept with a smile on my face. But the gods that always made sure clouds overshadowed my silver lining weren’t asleep. They came for me. And they wiped the smile right off my face.
_____________________________________
Hey you!
I'm smiling. I don't know why, but I'm smiling. I wish I could y'all's reactions as you read, but... I'll settle for what I got.
I want to use this opportunity to thank all of you who have stayed with Mosana and I thus far. We love you and we say you're the best!
Till next Sunday,
xoxo,
Ava.
Wow.. Eager for the next episode.
ReplyDeleteWell you're in luck, coz it's out :)
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