Mosana - Part XVI
EPISODE 16
True to their threats, I was given Flint’s quota of work. No other slave was bought to take his place and no one was assigned to help me out from amongst the other slaves. I worked hard from dawn to dusk from sweeping and cleaning and dusting, to hauling and lifting and pushing. I worked in the field, I worked in the barn, I worked in the animal pen. I built temporary shelters and storage places and pulled them down when they were no longer needed. Thankfully, I had watched Flint do all these things and so needed little to no guidance. Old Mr. Fisher helped whenever he could, but secretly. It would have meant trouble for him if he had been caught helping me.
One time I fell terribly sick and couldn’t attend to my chores. I say terribly because there were many times I would fall ill and still manage through my duties. Sometimes, no one would even know. No one cared for your excuses in the Manor. As long as you could still walk, you would work.
But this time was bad. Meg volunteered to take my place, but was sent back when it was time to attend to Madam Russell. The Mistress asked why I wasn’t the one serving her as usual and Meg explained that I was ill. Madam Russell requested that I appear before her even if I was already dead and a ghost. Pleading, Meg told her that I couldn’t even leave the bed and there was no way I could walk down to appear before her. Meg earned a slap for that and was still sent to summon me. With all the strength in my body, I staggered up (with Meg’s help) and trudged to the main house. I couldn’t even see; Meg had to lead me like I was blind. My head raged with the headache I was feeling and my body temperature could give you a tan. My mouth was dry and my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth.
With Meg holding me up, I stood before Madam Russell. I couldn’t even hold my head up; it was heavy. So I didn’t note Madam Russell’s expression, I only heard her voice.
‘You will take over her duties for now. But I want her working in less than a week. I will tolerate no slacking.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Meg answered.
I heard Madam walk out and Meg led me back to our quarters. I collapsed on the bed and blacked out.
Thanks to Tricia’s herbal remedy, I bounced back in three days. Tricia was a middle-aged woman who knew all there was to know about herbs and drugs. This knowledge she had gained from her father who had been an apothecary. She had escaped her former enslavement, only to be caught and sold to the Russells. She often jokingly referred to it as moving from the devil to hell fire (she was of the opinion that hell was more terrible than the devil, as the devil was walking the earth as a man while hell was a place of such torture even the devil couldn’t give). She was also a firm believer in the Bible and was tough as nails.
Tricia sternly restrained me and I got back to work in five days. She made sure I had my rest. But I was anxious to relieve Meg. I was stubbornly independent now, and I cleaned my own ass myself.
I took over from Meg and got back to routine. I watched myself this time and made up my mind not to fall ill again. So as soon as I felt the slightest pain or weakness, I drank some of Tricia’s concoctions.
Life continued, but in monochrome. I bent my back and worked. I neither smiled nor laughed. Not the way I used to anyway. I just did my duties, ate and slept. And then the next day, I did the same thing all over again.
Something changed inside me. It started taking shape the day Flint was sold. I found out what it was when the idea for revenge dropped suddenly into my mind. You see, I had never really owned anything. Even when I lived with Ed and Sarah, and they made me feel loved, a small voice sometimes reminded me that they weren’t really my family. They only adopted me. But when I met Flint, it was my chance of having something… someone. He was mine. And they took him from me. I couldn’t stay the same. But at least I owned my brain.
I was outside, weeding with Tricia when the idea dropped. We were removing all kinds of weeds, even those with thorns with almost our bare hands. We didn’t have gloves for them, just makeshift coverings for our hands made out of pieces of cloth. From the chickweed to the dandelion to the finger grass to the spotted spurge to the pokeweed to the…
The Pokeweed.
I knew the pokeweed, but I never realised how useful it could be until then. I stared at it for a long time, my brain already working faster than my heart could pump blood. Tricia saw me looking at it and said, ‘Gotta get that out, Mo. They everywhere these days, along with that creeper.’
I heard her but I didn’t move. My brain was still working. It had been a long time since I thought for myself. With Flint, it had been easy to live with the suffering. He made everything bearable. I remembered how I had plotted and planned to escape my village. Flint wasn’t there. Here in the Manor, he had made me forget what I could do. I had escaped one slave master (two, if you count my father) before; I could do it again.
I was still staring at the weed.
‘These are poisonous, aren’t they?’ I asked Tricia.
‘If you talkin’ about the leaves; not much. The roots are more deadly though. Why?’
I said nothing, a plan finally coming together in my head. I almost smiled.
Tricia noticed my silence and stopped her weeding. She was a sharp woman. She put two and two together and asked me, ‘What you thinking, child?’
I almost didn’t answer her. But she was capable of spanking the truth right out of me. So I decided to skip all that and tell her. ‘A way out.’
‘No,’ she said, her voice going a bit higher in alarm. ‘Don’t you go there! Don’t you dare think about what I think you tryna do!’
‘I don’t need your help, Tricia. You don’t have to be involved. You can pretend you know nothing about this. But I’m getting out of here, by hook or crook.’
‘This ain’t gonna end well, Mosana.’
‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I don’t want it to.’
The woman looked at me in baffled silence. She knew she couldn’t spank me out of what I wanted to do.
After a while I said to her, ‘I thought you wanted out too.’
‘Yes, child. Of course I do. But we have got to hope for salvation from the Lord. Only He can save us!’
I almost laughed. I remembered when I had hoped for ‘God’ to save me from my father. He definitely hadn’t saved my mother. In the end, it was Ed that had saved me.
I had a cutting remark to make about God, but held my tongue. I could earn a slap from Tricia for that. She didn’t take kindly to anyone speaking against God. So I settled for, ‘Hope is not going to cut it. I am way past hope.’
I dug up the pokeweed and separated the roots from the leaves and stem. Then I put the severed roots in my dress. Tricia made a low moaning sound and shook her head at me. But she didn’t say another word.
I stayed up during the night, thinking and thinking. My plan needed to be foolproof. I thought and thought until I realised that I did need Tricia’s help. That was the little glitch in my plan. But she would have to help me. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.
The day after that, I went back to the farm alone and weeded up some more pokeweed. I separated the leaves and stem from the roots and took away the roots. The third day, I did the same again. I spread the roots in the barn to dry them. I didn’t dare place them outside, in case Master Wells or any of the Russells saw them and suspected what they were. I didn’t think they could though - they didn’t know the difference between a coconut tree and a palm tree when it was still growing - but I didn’t want to take any chances. When they were dry enough, I pounded them to powder and stored the final product in a small container I had swiped from Ms. Nan. Then I hid it away where only I could find it and I solidified my plan in my head.
I made up my mind on my first target.
That butler was going down.
Hey you!
I'm glad to introduce you to Tricia, also a black woman, and an apothecary. Look it up. ;)
She's going to be instrumental in Mosana's escape. I won't say more than that. When she said, "more deadly", we know it should be deadlier. But she's also correct. That's just how she talks.
And it seems Mosana doesn't believe in God... Hmm. Anyone interested in soul-winning? That girl needs Jesus. God actually saved her, but she doesn't realise it. Now we can't really blame her, can we? Just look at her village, for one.
This author's note is getting long. I'll leave you to salivate for next week's episode and also think of ways we can win Mosana to Christ. :D
Till next Sunday,
xoxo,
Ava.
True to their threats, I was given Flint’s quota of work. No other slave was bought to take his place and no one was assigned to help me out from amongst the other slaves. I worked hard from dawn to dusk from sweeping and cleaning and dusting, to hauling and lifting and pushing. I worked in the field, I worked in the barn, I worked in the animal pen. I built temporary shelters and storage places and pulled them down when they were no longer needed. Thankfully, I had watched Flint do all these things and so needed little to no guidance. Old Mr. Fisher helped whenever he could, but secretly. It would have meant trouble for him if he had been caught helping me.
One time I fell terribly sick and couldn’t attend to my chores. I say terribly because there were many times I would fall ill and still manage through my duties. Sometimes, no one would even know. No one cared for your excuses in the Manor. As long as you could still walk, you would work.
But this time was bad. Meg volunteered to take my place, but was sent back when it was time to attend to Madam Russell. The Mistress asked why I wasn’t the one serving her as usual and Meg explained that I was ill. Madam Russell requested that I appear before her even if I was already dead and a ghost. Pleading, Meg told her that I couldn’t even leave the bed and there was no way I could walk down to appear before her. Meg earned a slap for that and was still sent to summon me. With all the strength in my body, I staggered up (with Meg’s help) and trudged to the main house. I couldn’t even see; Meg had to lead me like I was blind. My head raged with the headache I was feeling and my body temperature could give you a tan. My mouth was dry and my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth.
With Meg holding me up, I stood before Madam Russell. I couldn’t even hold my head up; it was heavy. So I didn’t note Madam Russell’s expression, I only heard her voice.
‘You will take over her duties for now. But I want her working in less than a week. I will tolerate no slacking.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Meg answered.
I heard Madam walk out and Meg led me back to our quarters. I collapsed on the bed and blacked out.
Thanks to Tricia’s herbal remedy, I bounced back in three days. Tricia was a middle-aged woman who knew all there was to know about herbs and drugs. This knowledge she had gained from her father who had been an apothecary. She had escaped her former enslavement, only to be caught and sold to the Russells. She often jokingly referred to it as moving from the devil to hell fire (she was of the opinion that hell was more terrible than the devil, as the devil was walking the earth as a man while hell was a place of such torture even the devil couldn’t give). She was also a firm believer in the Bible and was tough as nails.
Tricia sternly restrained me and I got back to work in five days. She made sure I had my rest. But I was anxious to relieve Meg. I was stubbornly independent now, and I cleaned my own ass myself.
I took over from Meg and got back to routine. I watched myself this time and made up my mind not to fall ill again. So as soon as I felt the slightest pain or weakness, I drank some of Tricia’s concoctions.
Life continued, but in monochrome. I bent my back and worked. I neither smiled nor laughed. Not the way I used to anyway. I just did my duties, ate and slept. And then the next day, I did the same thing all over again.
Something changed inside me. It started taking shape the day Flint was sold. I found out what it was when the idea for revenge dropped suddenly into my mind. You see, I had never really owned anything. Even when I lived with Ed and Sarah, and they made me feel loved, a small voice sometimes reminded me that they weren’t really my family. They only adopted me. But when I met Flint, it was my chance of having something… someone. He was mine. And they took him from me. I couldn’t stay the same. But at least I owned my brain.
I was outside, weeding with Tricia when the idea dropped. We were removing all kinds of weeds, even those with thorns with almost our bare hands. We didn’t have gloves for them, just makeshift coverings for our hands made out of pieces of cloth. From the chickweed to the dandelion to the finger grass to the spotted spurge to the pokeweed to the…
The Pokeweed.
I knew the pokeweed, but I never realised how useful it could be until then. I stared at it for a long time, my brain already working faster than my heart could pump blood. Tricia saw me looking at it and said, ‘Gotta get that out, Mo. They everywhere these days, along with that creeper.’
I heard her but I didn’t move. My brain was still working. It had been a long time since I thought for myself. With Flint, it had been easy to live with the suffering. He made everything bearable. I remembered how I had plotted and planned to escape my village. Flint wasn’t there. Here in the Manor, he had made me forget what I could do. I had escaped one slave master (two, if you count my father) before; I could do it again.
I was still staring at the weed.
‘These are poisonous, aren’t they?’ I asked Tricia.
‘If you talkin’ about the leaves; not much. The roots are more deadly though. Why?’
I said nothing, a plan finally coming together in my head. I almost smiled.
Tricia noticed my silence and stopped her weeding. She was a sharp woman. She put two and two together and asked me, ‘What you thinking, child?’
I almost didn’t answer her. But she was capable of spanking the truth right out of me. So I decided to skip all that and tell her. ‘A way out.’
‘No,’ she said, her voice going a bit higher in alarm. ‘Don’t you go there! Don’t you dare think about what I think you tryna do!’
‘I don’t need your help, Tricia. You don’t have to be involved. You can pretend you know nothing about this. But I’m getting out of here, by hook or crook.’
‘This ain’t gonna end well, Mosana.’
‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I don’t want it to.’
The woman looked at me in baffled silence. She knew she couldn’t spank me out of what I wanted to do.
After a while I said to her, ‘I thought you wanted out too.’
‘Yes, child. Of course I do. But we have got to hope for salvation from the Lord. Only He can save us!’
I almost laughed. I remembered when I had hoped for ‘God’ to save me from my father. He definitely hadn’t saved my mother. In the end, it was Ed that had saved me.
I had a cutting remark to make about God, but held my tongue. I could earn a slap from Tricia for that. She didn’t take kindly to anyone speaking against God. So I settled for, ‘Hope is not going to cut it. I am way past hope.’
I dug up the pokeweed and separated the roots from the leaves and stem. Then I put the severed roots in my dress. Tricia made a low moaning sound and shook her head at me. But she didn’t say another word.
I stayed up during the night, thinking and thinking. My plan needed to be foolproof. I thought and thought until I realised that I did need Tricia’s help. That was the little glitch in my plan. But she would have to help me. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.
The day after that, I went back to the farm alone and weeded up some more pokeweed. I separated the leaves and stem from the roots and took away the roots. The third day, I did the same again. I spread the roots in the barn to dry them. I didn’t dare place them outside, in case Master Wells or any of the Russells saw them and suspected what they were. I didn’t think they could though - they didn’t know the difference between a coconut tree and a palm tree when it was still growing - but I didn’t want to take any chances. When they were dry enough, I pounded them to powder and stored the final product in a small container I had swiped from Ms. Nan. Then I hid it away where only I could find it and I solidified my plan in my head.
I made up my mind on my first target.
That butler was going down.
__________________________________________________________
I'm glad to introduce you to Tricia, also a black woman, and an apothecary. Look it up. ;)
She's going to be instrumental in Mosana's escape. I won't say more than that. When she said, "more deadly", we know it should be deadlier. But she's also correct. That's just how she talks.
And it seems Mosana doesn't believe in God... Hmm. Anyone interested in soul-winning? That girl needs Jesus. God actually saved her, but she doesn't realise it. Now we can't really blame her, can we? Just look at her village, for one.
This author's note is getting long. I'll leave you to salivate for next week's episode and also think of ways we can win Mosana to Christ. :D
Till next Sunday,
xoxo,
Ava.
You're doing well Amandla MOSANA
ReplyDeleteThank you, sir.
ReplyDelete