Second Daughter (3 page)

Zach had a wide gap between his top front teeth. “Bett, why are his teeth so far apart?” I asked.

She laughed and said, “That is his opening to God.”

Happy that we had met a person just arrived from our homeland, we walked on, close by the dark lazy river that crept through the plain.

It was Bett's duty to arise each morning at four o'clock to have the fires lit in every room of the house by five. The rooms had to be warm by six, or seven, when the mistress and master were called to start their day.

At first I did only small jobs, here and there, but on my seventh birthday, I was told I must now work in the kitchen. I had to bring in the wood for the fire, scour the dishes, sweep the floor, and do anything that Nance wanted me to do. I must be on hand in the kitchen during the preparation of meals and the cleaning up after meals. I also had to heat the water and fill the pitchers in the bedrooms for the morning bowl baths.

In the winter, heavy snow packed itself around windows and doors. We tried to fight it with hot water and salt, but the snow won, and gloomy days seemed to last forever. Working in the warm kitchen was the most wanted work in the house.

In spite of the cold, many visitors came, and we all had extra fires to light, bath bowls to fill, and beds to make; but with all the extra work and the mistress's sharp temper, Nance remained kind and motherly. Still I longed for Olubunmi.

Nance had taught me how to lay a fire so that it would blaze quickly. She showed me how to clean the heavy iron pots that hung over the fire without getting the greasy soot on my clothes. She helped me learn to sweep without scattering the dust. She laughed a lot and told me stories when the mistress was not around. That was not often.

Our master, not a big man, not small either, was even-tempered; most people looked upon him with respect. He was a landowning merchant, who took care of business. Being very rich, he had special foods delivered from afar: chests of lemons and Seville oranges and many kinds of teas. The pantry held dried fruits—apples and pears—canned berries, and crocks of jams and jellies from which to choose. There were fresh apples in the cellar and barrels of cider, Jamaican rum and rum made right on the grounds from molasses.

Nance had a wooden sour tub in which she mixed dough sweetened with molasses, and set it to rise. The loaves, brown and crusty outside, were moist inside. Those loaves could have lasted a good ten days without becoming dry, but Nance baked bread every Thursday. She was a good cook and even though Mistress Anna was stingy, Nance saw to it that Bett and I were well fed most of the time.

Though our mistress had come from a wealthy family, she had an eagle's eye and a miser's hand. Every day she portioned out all the ingredients for the meals that were to be prepared. She kept on her person the keys to every pantry and every cellar door. Rarely did she forget to relock them, but when she did, Nance always took out a little extra that we shared. A little bit, unexpected, brought joy and pleasure all the more warming because it was shared in secret.

There were some things, even though plentiful, we were never given. Pickled pork was one. One day the mistress forgot to lock the pantry that held the crock full of it. That night we did not fall asleep as soon as darkness fell. We savored those bits of meat, and as always during happy moments, I begged Bett to tell me stories we had heard in Claverack. “Tell me about Yaaye,” I pleaded, using our word for mother. “Tell me again what she was like.”

“What is every yaaye like? Beautiful.”

“No, tell me what she was really like?”

“It is late. We must sleep. You will not want to get up in the morning and the mistress will be unhappy.”

“Let her be unhappy. I don't like her.”

“Don't, Aissa! Never become a prey to those kinds of feelings. Say your prayers and
welte-rusten
[good night].”

That night I dreamed a beautiful woman held out her arms for me. How I struggled to get close, enfolded, but I could not reach her. When I no longer tried, she came closer and I knew it was Olubunmi. I felt a strange warmth that relaxed me the way riding on Fatou's back once did. Olubunmi said, “
Mijn kindje
[my child, her endearing words for me], you must not be so angry. Life is hard now and will be, but pay attention to your sister and try to be like her.”

Bett and I overslept, and when six o'clock came we were still lighting the fires.

“Lizzie! Lizzie!” The mistress's shrill voice rang from the top of the stairs. I heard her but I didn't answer. Nance looked at me and said, “Child, whut's wrong wid you. Go, go, she's callin'.”

Mistress Anna was leaning over the bannister in the stairway, her long hair streaming about her face, red with anger.
“Potverdorie!
[Darn it!] Come up here this moment.”

I rushed up the steps.

“Why do you refuse to answer when I call?”

“Meesteres, I don't,” I replied, not looking at her. Then I looked up. There was such anger on her face that I backed away. She grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Why do you refuse to answer when I call?”

“I don't always remember that name, Lizzie. I'm Aissa.”

The force of her open palm against my face snapped my head around. And a voice inside me said,
Don't cry. Stand and die before you cry
. I straightened my shoulders and looked her in the eye, and she lowered her head.

As I refilled her water pitcher for her morning bath, I wondered, Why? Why was I in this place with this angry woman? But I soon forgot her when it was time to start the day with the first meal.

Breakfast time in the house was the best part of the day. The smell of homemade bread toasting in the warming pan made me feel like being nice. Usually five or six people from far and near sat at the master's breakfast table. Most of the time, Mistress Anna was the only woman.

At first the English food with little spice and seasoning was strange and not very tasty. I missed the food we had in Claverack and was pleased when the mistress showed Nance how to make donkers. How pleasant to have the kitchen smelling of the leftover meats chopped with bread crumbs, apples, and raisins, and sprinkled with savory spices. Made into balls, they were fried and served with boiled pudding. Nance and others in the house, including the master, didn't much care for our donkers, but Bett and I were always happy when the mistress insisted on having them on the table.

4

Sheffield was a busy town. On my many errands, I saw lots of travelers passing through on horse-drawn stages and gigs. There was a lively trade in fur, timber, and livestock, beef as well as pork. One of the chief trading crops was flax, out of which many women in the town wove their coats and dresses.

The mistress's clothes were brought by boat from far away. Once Bett and I unpacked many cloaks; long trains on gowns of lovely silks and brocade; skirts opened in front and trimmed with stomachers—embroidered triangular pieces that covered the chest and stomach; a bright green silk cloak with a hood; blouses with ruffles at the elbows. She was, indeed, one of the best-dressed women in the town.

During the fall and winter of our first years in Sheffield, the house was always filled with men who owned property in the town. They spent hours drinking and talking in the upstairs room where the master spent much of his time. It was Bett's duty to see that their glasses were filled with ale and their cups with tea, and to empty containers with chewed tobacco and ashes. Brom was taken from the care of cattle to see that the horses and chairs, or gigs, were all cared for properly. Nance was busy in the kitchen preparing scones to serve with tea.

On moonlit nights, guests dropped in unexpectedly. Often the master and mistress joined their friends in sleigh rides and skating parties on the river near the house. The mistress loved to have guests in the drawing room, where they danced until the wee hours of morning or stood talking around the great fireplaces. Bett and Nance didn't seem to mind being there to serve. But I found it boring, the music cold without drums and hand-clapping. We had nothing to do but stand and wait for someone to need something.

Even though we were busy, we still found time to talk and plan for the two days we were going to have away from the house at Christmas. On this, our third holiday, we were all going to Josiah's place, which was in the forest on the edge of town, on the road to Stockbridge. “Oh, youse gwan have a sho nuf good time,” Nance said. “All de folks from 'round come bringin' good things tuh eat and music and song, and dancin' a plen'y.”

The week before Christmas the house quieted. Not many guests came, so I let thoughts about the coming holiday fill all of my days. And I had never seen my sister so excited. She asked Nance a thousand times whether there would be music for dancing. Could Josiah dance? Did Nance think he would dance with her?

“What's wid you two?” Nance asked Bett. “He keep astin' if you comin' and you keep astin' if he'll dance with yuh. Will yo' brother, Brom, be speakin' tuh Josiah 'bout bridal business? Will the mistis have uh weddin' on her hands soon?”

How lucky we were that Christmas Eve was on Sunday. No one worked hard on that day, for most of the people, being Christians, spent much of their time in church or prayer. The master did not insist on our going to service that day. I was so glad. I hated sitting in the cold back gallery with other slaves, away from the stove that heated the place, listening to the preacher tell us how God loved us all, free men and slaves.

Our chores were done early, so we packed all the things for the celebration and set out for Josiah's place early that afternoon. Men and women from other farms joined us and we all walked together. The floor of the forest was dark and cold, and we had been on the trail for a long time when we passed the circular Indian village of the Muhheconnuk people. Their dwellings, made of poles, logs, and bark, were round at the bottom and dome-shaped at the top. White smoke rose from the center of each dwelling and small fires were lit outside. A few men were around the fire in the center of the village. Brom pointed out a tall bronze man as the well-known leader, Miantonomo.

The pale winter moon was bright and cast shadows in the forest as we walked on our way. Some of the men and women who had joined us took turns singing songs they had sung in their villages back home in Africa. We clapped our hands to the songs and made joyful noises in anticipation of the time we would be together, without masters and mistresses.

Josiah lived miles away, but the distance didn't seem far with the talk, the songs, and the cold night spurring us along. Soon we saw torches lighting the way to the little house that sat in a clearing in the forest. The smell of roasting meat filled the air. Then we heard the thump, thump of the drums. Feeling the excitement, I wanted to run on ahead, but I controlled that feeling and kept with the group.

The house was filled with people from the area around and near Sheffield and Great Barrington. Sarah was there. Nance was right. There was not only a great amount of food, but there were many musical instruments: metal castanets, drums, calabash shakers, horns, fiddles, and jugs.

Then the music began. The women danced, Sarah the most lively of them all. Josiah danced round after round with her. Bett stood with me and watched. The women removed their head scarves and threw them at Sarah's feet to invite her to dance.

When only the drummers played, Nance was the first to remove her scarf and throw it at Bett. Shyly, Bett refused to dance, but others did and I, with the children, clapped while doing little steps on the side. But when the metal castanets and the fiddle and jug players began their music, even the children danced. I danced and danced. By the time the cocks were crowing, I was tired and ready for sleep.

5

The next morning, Christmas Day, I awoke in a room crowded with other women and children. Hastily I slipped over sleeping bodies and found my way outside. The sun was just coming up on the horizon. The air was stinging cold, but already the fires were glowing under a roasting sheep. The men stood about in little huddles, their breaths giving off as much steam as the cups that held the scalding liquid they drank.

I stood alone thinking about Olubunmi and wondering what she was doing this Christmas morning. How I wished she was here with us to tell her stories and to serve her wonderful spiced tea. I wished I was back in Claverack where we knew everyone on the farm and everyone knew us, and where, because there were so many of us, I rarely had to face the master or the mistress. Now it was just Nance, Bett, and me in the house and the few men in the fields and mill. I felt the tears sting my cheeks as they became icy in the cold morning, and I rushed back inside.

Bett was still sleeping, but Nance was just getting herself dressed. “Why you cryin' on dis happy mornin'?”

“I miss Olubunmi.”

“Tell me again all 'bout yo' friend.”

I dried my tears. “She's a Yoruba woman and knows many things.” I told her all about Olubunmi and Claverack, and again I lost control and dissolved into sobs. Quickly, Nance took me outside so that I would not wake the others and ruin their morning with my sadness.

When the sun was high in the sky, more people came to Josiah's. Men stood outside, circled around a fire, talking. The sun crept slowly across the sky and shadows lengthened, but people still came. There was much more food than on the night before, and there were more and better drummers. Everyone was dressed up for the occasion, but with or without colorful outfits everyone was at ease. The laughter and talk were more lively and the drummers more bewitching.

The greatest surprise and the most fun of all was Nance. She was the first to dance. Like Olubunmi, she knew exactly how to excite the drummer, and as she danced I just knew that when she was younger she must have been the best dancer in her village.

Bett had on a hand-dyed cloth wrapped around her body to make a skirt. Her head was tied in a matching blue scarf. Josiah gave her a broad smile and said, “You can no longer pretend shyness and refuse to dance.” He was the first to throw a cloth at Bett's feet to invite her to dance.