Brown Girl In the Ring (6 page)

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Ti-Jeanne opened her eyes. Baby had drunk his fill and gone back to sleep, one tiny fist still clutching absently at her breast. She sighed; went and settled him in the crib; turned as she heard a step behind her. Mami?

The back of Ti-Jeanne’s neck prickled at what she saw:

A fireball whirl in through the window glass like if the glass ain’t even there. It settle down on the floor and turn into a old, old woman, body twist-up and dry like a chew-up piece a sugar cane. She flesh red and wet and oozing all over, like she ain’t have no skin. Blue flames running over she body, up she arms, down the two cleft hooves she have for legs, but it look like she ain’t even self feeling the fire. She ol’-lady dugs dripping blood instead of milk. She looking at me and laughing kya-kya like Mami does do when something sweet she, but I ain’t want to know what could sweet a Soucouyant so. The thing movin’ towards me now, klonk-klonk with it goat feet. It saying something, and I could see the pointy teeth in she mouth, and the drool running down them:

“Move aside, sweetheart, move aside.” She voice licking like flame inside my head. “Is the baby I want. You don’t want he, ain’t it? So give him to me, nuh, doux-doux? I hungry. I want to suck he eyeballs from he head like chennette fruit. I want to drink the blood from out he veins, sweet like red sorrel drink. Stand aside, Ti-Jeanne.”

Terrified as she was, Ti-Jeanne stood firm beside the crib, planting her body between Baby and the hag. She would not let it have her child! The Soucouyant tried to get around her, but Ti-Jeanne blocked its way.
Lord help me!
she thought.

Another figure ran in through the doorway on jokey backward legs.
Oh God, not the Jab-Jab!

The Jab-Jab stopped behind the Soucouyant and with a bamboo-clack of a voice called out,
“Old lady! Like you don’t know me?”

The Soucouyant forgot Baby and turned to spit fire at the Jab-Jab, but the flames didn’t reach him. Brandishing his stick to block her way, the Jab-Jab threw something to the ground from the other hand—rice grains? They scattered all over the floor. The Soucouyant stiffened up when she saw the rice, then dropped to her knees. Ti-Jeanne didn’t understand. Why was the creature picking up the rice grains and counting them? Why wasn’t she fighting back?

Now the Jab-Jab was dancing around the Soucouyant, hitting her with the stick, and shouting,
“Yes, you old witch, you!”
(Whap! with the stick.)
“Bloodsucker!”
(Whap!)
“Is my spell on you now: count the rice!”
(Whap!)
“I bet you don’t finish before sunup! Is where you hide you skin? Eh?”
(Whap!)
“You not gettin’ back inside it tonight, I tell you!”
(Whap!)
“Baby blood not for you! You must leave little children alone!”
(Whap!)

With her back against the crib, Ti-Jeanne watched the bizarre battle. Crouched on the floor, the Soucouyant tried to scuttle away from the Jab-Jab’s rain of blows and struggled to count the grains of rice, picking them up one by one with her wrinkled fingers, trying to keep them cupped in one shaking hand. But with each blow that connected with her oozing, skinless back, the grains of rice flew from her hand and she had to start all over again. The Jab-Jab danced around her, taunting, striking. The Soucouyant shrieked in terror and frustration and spat flame at the wooden creature.

It seemed as if the battle had been going on for hours. Then the Jab-Jab yelled,
“Ti-Jeanne! Draw back the curtain!”
Baffled, terrified, Ti-Jeanne edged over to the window and pulled the curtains open. The first light of the morning sun shone full on the Soucouyant. She screamed, threw her hands up to ward off the killing light, and dissolved into smoking ash. The Jab-Jab grinned at Ti-Jeanne. It said,
“Soucouyant can’t stand the sun, you know.”

And vanished.

They were really gone. Sobbing, Ti-Jeanne checked on Baby, who was still sleeping soundly.

“Ti-Jeanne! What you crying for, child? What happen to Baby?” Never asleep for long, Mami came bustling officiously into the room.

“No, Mami—watch out for the rice!” Ti-Jeanne rushed to prevent her grandmother from tripping, grabbed her by the shoulders, and looked down. The floor was bare. Mami frowned at the clean linoleum, met Ti-Jeanne’s eyes: “Doux-doux, why you think it have rice on the floor in front of the baby bed?”

Ti-Jeanne threw herself into Mami’s arms, sobbing as she tried to explain. Mami walked her over to the single bed, sat down with her, and listened while Ti-Jeanne gulped out the story of what she’d seen. “Mami, this ain’t the first time I see something like this. I going mad like Mummy, ain’t it?”

At that, Mami’s gentle air vanished. She pulled back and frowned at Ti-Jeanne. “This happen to you before?”

Ti-Jeanne shrank back into herself. “Two-three times now, Mami,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor.

Mami grabbed her wrist and held on tight, forcing Ti-Jeanne to make eye contact with her. “Two-three time? Child, why you never tell me what was goin’ on with you?”

Sullenly Ti-Jeanne replied, “What I was to tell you, Mami? I don’t want to know nothing ’bout obeah, oui.”

Mami shook a finger in front of Ti-Jeanne’s face. “Girl child, you know better than to call it obeah. Stupidness. Is a gift from God Father. Is a good thing, not a evil thing. But child, if you don’t learn how to use it, it will use you, just like it take your mother.”

Frightened, Ti-Jeanne could only stare at her grandmother. She remembered that night so many years ago. She had been only nine years old, living with her mother and grandmother in a cramped, run-down apartment in Saint James’ Town. The city was still being governed but was gradually collapsing economically as transfer payments from the province dwindled, taxes rose, and money, businesses, and jobs fled outward to the ’burbs. Young Ti-Jeanne didn’t really understand what was going on, but she could sense people’s resentment and apprehension wherever she went. She and her mother, Mi-Jeanne, used to share a bedroom. That particular night, Mi-Jeanne had woken up screaming. She’d dreamt of people trapped in some sort of box, drowning as water rushed in through its windows. She’d dreamt of angry fights in the streets, heavy blows breaking glass, of heads being blown apart like melons. Mami had tried to calm her, but Mi-Jeanne had become hysterical. The Riots had started a week later. For Ti-Jeanne, they were mixed up in her mind with memories of her mother lying helpless in her bed, besieged with images of the worst of the rioting
before
it happened. Mi-Jeanne refused her mother’s help. She spat out all of Mami’s potions and screamed at her to stop her prayers. And the power of the visions had driven her mad.

Mami’s voice broke into Ti-Jeanne’s reverie. “It look like you turn seer woman like Mi-Jeanne, doux-doux. I could help you. No time to waste. Your education start now. Tell me about your visions, nuh?”

So Ti-Jeanne began describing her visions to the old woman: the Jab-Jab, the Soucouyant, the nightmare she had had every night now for three weeks. As she spoke, Baby woke, crying for his morning feeding. Ti-Jeanne gave him the breast and continued to talk:

“And in this dream I have now, I does see a tall, tall woman in a old-fashioned dress, long all the way down to the floor. She head tie-up in a scarf, and Mami, she teeth pointy like shark teeth!”

“What her feet them look like?”

“She have one good foot and one hoof like a goat.”

“Jeezam Peace, child! La Diablesse visitin’ you! What she does do in your dream?”

“I does see creeping through the streets at night. She have a glow around she, like she cover up in fire, but nobody ain’t seeing she. She does be hiding in alleyways and thing, just waiting, waiting. And then a street kid does come walking down the alleyway, whistling to heself, not looking around. And I could see the woman getting ready to spring out at the little boy. And all I screaming and crying at the boy to turn back, to run away, he don’ hear me; he just keep coming closer and closer.”

“Lord have mercy,” said Mami quietly. “Wait right there. I go tell you what this mean.”

She stood and went into her own bedroom. Ti-Jeanne could hear her rummaging about in the old wooden press in which she kept her valuables.

As he suckled, Baby’s hands found one of Ti-Jeanne’s plaits and gave it a good pull. Irritably Ti-Jeanne pulled the plait away from him and was about to slap the mischievous hand when Mami came back into the room. “Lord, Ti-Jeanne; just let the child play a little, nuh? Don’t be rough with he so.”

Ti-Jeanne frowned up at her grandmother. Mami continued, “Ti-Jeanne, I know you did never want no baby. Sometimes you almost feel to just get rid of he, don’t it?”

Shamed, Ti-Jeanne nodded.

“Don’t feel no way, darling; children does catch you like that sometimes. It ain’t easy, minding babies, but if you don’t make the time to know you child, you and he will never live good together. I know.”

“Yes, Mami; sorry, Mami; I go do better.”

Ti-Jeanne wasn’t really listening. She stared at the deck of brightly coloured cards in Mami’s hand. She’d never seen anything like them. Mami’s eyes followed her gaze. The old woman sat on the bed and fanned the cards out.

“You know Romni Jenny, who does live in the old Carlton Hotel? She people is Romany people, and she teach me how to read with the tarot cards, way back before you born. This deck is my own. Jenny paint the cards for me, after I tell she what pictures I want.”

“How come I never see you using them before, Mami?”

“I used to hide it from you when I was seeing with them. I don’t really know why, doux-doux. From since slavery days, we people get in the habit of hiding we business from we own children even, in case a child open he mouth and tell somebody story and get them in trouble. Secrecy was survival, oui? Is a hard habit to break. Besides, remember I try to teach about what I does do, and you run away?”

“But Mami, obeah…”

Mami stamped her foot. “Is not obeah! You don’t understand, and you won’t let me teach you, so don’t go putting your bad mouth ’pon me!”

Ti-Jeanne pouted, but she held her tongue. It felt good to be unburdening her problems to Mami. If she pushed the old woman too far, she would only retreat into silence again.

The cards were like none Ti-Jeanne had ever seen. Larger than playing cards, they were pictures of men and women dancing in colourful, oversized Carnival costumes.

The words “Masque Queen” were on one card. The Masque Queen’s costume was a gown of blue and silver sequins with a cloak that dragged behind. Jutting up from the dragging fabric was a city with castles and towers, also in blue and silver. The cloak formed a float that loomed high over the Masque Queen’s head. She clutched a large book in one hand and a wand in the other. She seemed to be performing a graceful pavanne, despite the bulky float she was pulling behind her.

Ti-Jeanne reached out to touch the cards, then looked at Mami. Her grandmother nodded in encouragement. Ti-Jeanne turned up one card after another. The Five of Cane, five men dancing the Stick Fight; the Jab-Jab; a prancing, nearly naked man, his body completely covered with red paint, horns stuck to his head, and a snaky, rude-looking tail tied on to his body.
But thing I see was some kinda animal,
thought Ti-Jeanne,
not a man in costume.

Mami took the cards from Ti-Jeanne and began to shuffle them with an economical ease. “These will tell me what your dream is about. Here. Cut the deck.”

Ti-Jeanne cut. Mami took the pack back from her and laid the cards out on the bed between them. Baby chortled and reached toward the bright colours, but Ti-Jeanne held him out of reach. He had to be content to suck on his own thumb. The cards lay in a cross on the bed. Mami muttered over them, divining the pattern. “Cowrie King reverse, the La-Basse, Ten of Cutlass, and look; see La Diablesse there so? The Devil Woman? Somebody you know in trouble, Ti-Jeanne; somebody mixing up heself in some business he can’t handle.”

Tony; I did feel so,
thought the younger woman. “What kind of trouble, Mami?”

“I don’t know, darling, but wherever La Diablesse go, she leave death behind she.”

The two women stared somberly at the image on the card, a tall, arrogant-looking mulatto woman in traditional plantation dress and head-tie. Her smile was sinister, revealing sharpened fangs. Behind her ran a river, red like blood.

Mami resumed, “When the Cowrie King card come in upside-down, it mean a man in trouble, a dark man, maybe a Black man. And the trouble have to do with money. Is that Tony, ain’t it?” She stared accusingly at Ti-Jeanne. “You still seein’ that sweet-talking sagaboy?”

Ti-Jeanne felt her face heat up with embarrassment. Mami always seemed to know her secrets. “No, Mami, I ain’t seein’ he, really. I just bump into he on the street last night.” No need to tell her grandmother about the conversation she had had with Tony.

“Ti-Jeanne, I want you to leave that boy alone. I don’t want you to mix up with he and the posse.”

Ti-Jeanne stared down at the baby asleep in her arms. He frowned in his sleep, just like Tony did. She took a deep breath for courage. “I know Tony is nothing but trouble, Mami, but he is my baby-father. He have a right to get to know the baby, ain’t?” She had no idea why she was fighting for Tony like this. She hadn’t even planned to tell him that Baby was his child, much less allow Tony to visit him. She wondered if Tony would want to come to know the child he’d fathered. Mami opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Ti-Jeanne interrupted her:

“Mami, you ain’t want to know the rest of my dream? The little boy come running down the alleyway, and La Diablesse jump on he and fasten she teeth in he throat. I could see blood running down he neck and he screaming, screaming.”

Mami looked horrified. Satisfied that her grandmother hadn’t noticed the change of subject, Ti-Jeanne continued, “And is me who stop La Diablesse. I grab she, and wrestle she down to the ground, and break a bottle over she head. A blue bottle. She lie down there and turn to ashes.” She’d kept telling the story only to distract Mami from talking about Tony, but now Ti-Jeanne felt herself pulled back into the dread of the dream that had been haunting her for weeks. She whispered, “You know what, Mami? I ’fraid. I ain’t know what it is I seeing, but I ’fraid too bad.”