The Other Side of Paradise: A Memoir (6 page)

“Stand up straight! What you don’t know is older than you! Sometimes your eyes fail you—sometimes what you see is not what is there. Your uncle could be a rich man, yes. But I cannot question the ways of God! The good God in heaven will never give you more than you can bear. Now take off the thing and let me finish these uniforms so you children have something to wear come Monday morning.”

We pack our schoolbags on Sunday. Garnett goes to Cornwall College in Montego Bay. That school is a long bus ride away, so he has to wake up and leave while it is still dark. Ann takes the bus too, but she just goes to Chester Castle All Age, which is not far.

Monday morning Aunt June reminds us that we have to be dressed
before Uncle Harold comes home from his night shift at the police station. He takes Aunt June and the rest of us to the Bethel Town All Age School in his car. I pull at the crisp, newly starched uniform that rubs against my neck and waist. The creases jab at me. I ask Aunt June if I can wear one of my dresses instead of the dull tunic.

“What an ungrateful wretch! After all I do to make sure the both of you look like somebody’s children!” She is standing at her full height above me. She raises her hand to hit me—

Grandma walks in. “Stacey, is what you say to you Aunt June?”

“Me never say anything, Grandma. Me only ask her—”

Aunt June takes a step toward me. “Who are you referring to as
her
?”

I run to Grandma. She grabs me by the shoulder. “June, is what she do? Tell me so me can deal with her.”

Aunt June sucks her teeth and leaves the room in disgust. Grandma pulls me aside and whispers in my ear, “Stacey, why you cannot keep your tongue to yourself? Your mouth set on spring? God Almighty, mind you make June put us out of here!”

I am not sure what I have done, but Grandma sends me to finish getting dressed for school. When we are dressed, we sit at the dining table. Grandma has made fried eggs. Everyone has a whole egg with bread and butter, and hot chocolate. I am too excited to eat, but Aunt June says that food is too expensive to waste, so I should please stop forming the fool and eat. I drink most of the chocolate and eat half of the sandwich. Grandma takes the other half of the sandwich and hides it with the dirty dish towel. She tells me to keep my mouth shut.

At school there is a sea of a thousand million students milling about under the trees. A loud bell rings and everyone scatters. Delano is in grade three with Shane. Samantha and I are not supposed to be in grade one yet, but since Aunt June is the vice principal, she can put us in any class she wants. She is also the grade one teacher. In class, I am supposed to call Aunt June “Mrs. Jennings.”

During roll call Aunt June calls out the names of the children in the class. Each student has to say, “Present, Mrs. Jennings!” I forget and say, “Present, Aunt June!”

“Stacey, you must learn to follow the rules. Here, I am your teacher, not your aunt. In this room, I am Mrs. Jennings. Now don’t make me have to pull down that belt for you to remember.”

My face gets hot. “Yes, Aunt Ju—I mean, Mrs. Jennings.”

During the story hour we read
Goldilocks
. Aunt June writes words from the story on the blackboard. She calls on different children to say different words. When she calls on me I take my time and sound out the word like Miss Sis taught me.

“Por-por-rig—”

“Stacey, we do not have all day! Look at the word and tell me what it is!”

“Por-pro-porid—I know what it is, Aunt June, is parridge! Parridge!”

“What in the world is ‘parridge’? There is no
a
in
porridge,
the word is
porridge,
with an
o
! Say after me, porridge. If you wish to learn to speak properly, you will have to try much harder than that, Stacey! Now sit down before you embarrass yourself any more!”

During recess I sit on a bench and watch the girls playing bat and ball. I listen to them shouting to each other and wonder if I really sound that different from them. I ask if I can play. Everybody laughs when I speak. Wendy, the very tall girl with gold earrings, dances around me.

“Look at the reddi-bug! How you skin so red, girl? You red like mongoose. I ’fraid to leave my white fowl with you, mongoose-girl. Miss Chin from Lottery is a big fat tiefing mongoose that steal chicken from the chicken coop at night!”

Her other friends, Cheryl and Ava, join in. Wendy pulls my hair and pushes me. They all laugh and push me. I want to answer, but I’m afraid they will make fun of how I speak. Every time I say something, Samantha whispers to Wendy. Wendy whispers to Cheryl and Cheryl whispers to Ava. Then they all giggle and roll their eyes.

I ask Samantha why she can’t talk to me at school like she talks to me at home. “You know, Samantha, I am just like the other girls. Except me is your cousin. How you can like somebody like Wendy better than your own cousin?”

“Well, is not like I really like her better than you. But she speaks much better than you. And her mother sends things for her.”

“What you mean, her mother send things for her? She don’t live with her mother?”

“No, her mother live in Kingston.”

“So who is the woman who carry her to school in the mornings?”

“That is her father’s wife. Her mother is married to a rich man in
Kingston. And every week she sends a big package with all kinds of nice things in it for her. And sometimes she gives me some of the things. She is my best friend, so if she doesn’t like you, I cannot like you either.”

October comes and Aunt June announces that Wendy’s father has died of a heart attack. After one week Aunt June tells the class that Wendy will not be coming back to Bethel Town All Age School. Wendy has gone to Kingston to live with her mother. Aunt June makes us write a composition about Wendy. We have to write down all the nice things we remember about her. We have to pretend she is still here so we could say those nice things to her.

I don’t want to write anything nice about Wendy. I am glad she is gone. I wish I could leave and go back to Lottery. The girls hate me, and I don’t hate them. I don’t know how to make any of them like me. All day long they tease me.

Ava corners me at recess. “Stacey, Samantha says that your mother run away and leave you. Is that true?”

I choose my words carefully. I know she is just waiting for me to say something so she can run to tell the other girls. I want to say something that will make her want to be friends with me.

“No, she never run away. She get a big job in Canada. And now she is just saving up money to bring me and me brother over there too.”

“So when you leaving, then, Miss Big Shot?” She does not believe me.

“For your information, Miss Ava Gail Rogers, I am leaving in one week. I wasn’t going to say anything to any of you because I don’t want any of you to ask me to send any American things for you when I get there!”

Her attitude changes immediately. “Look, Stacey, I never really do anything to you, so you can’t be vex with me. Anyway, your mother buy the ticket already?”

“Yes, so you better tell everybody that them should tell me all the nice things they think about me now, because after me gone it will be too late.”

During lunch Ava tells me that she loves my hair. Cheryl says that I have very nice skin. When I respond to their compliments I speak English like the American children on TV.

The girls all give me presents at lunch: greater-cake, drops, and gizarda—every kind of homemade coconut candy. I collect colored pen
cils, crayons, coloring books, lollipops—everything that is offered. That afternoon, Samantha tries to tell Cheryl and Ava that I am lying, but I tell them she is just jealous that her mother is from Bethel Town and that means that she is never going to go anywhere. All the girls want to sit next to me. I have the best day at school.

I am so happy when we get home that I don’t even think about it when Aunt June tells me to change into my house clothes and come straight to her on the veranda. I slip out of my uniform and skip along to her. But then my heart sinks in my chest when she stands up and asks me why I have been telling lies to the other children at school. Her lips are tightly pursed as she waits for my answer. I want to tell her that it was a good lie. I want to say that the girls didn’t laugh at me this afternoon because of that little lie. But I can see from the set of her jaw that she isn’t interested in any of that. I hang my head and tell her that I don’t know. She calls Grandma and tells her that I am a disgrace. She sends me for Uncle Harold’s police belt. The strip of plastic is cool and hard against my palm. Without the detachable buckle, both ends of the belt are flat and smooth. My hand shakes when she takes the belt from me. Before she begins, she grabs my arm and tells me that what she is about to do is only for my own good. I am so frightened I feel like I am going to wet my panties. I am not quite sure what she is going to do with the belt. She pulls me to her and says that only the Word of God can save me from the pitfalls of a lying tongue. Then she raises the belt and warns me not to make a sound.

Whack!

“Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord.”

Whack!

“Train up the child in the way he should grow.”

Whack!

“And when he is old he will not depart from it.”

Whack!

“Spare the rod and spoil the child!”

Whack!

“It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles you, but what comes out of it!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

I cannot contain myself. “Lord Jesus Christ Almighty, Aunt June! I beg you please stop now.”

“Stop taking the Lord’s name in vain!”

Whack!

“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Aunt June, please, please, please…”

“I said to shut up that mouth of yours and stop bawling like an old hooligan!”

Whack!

“Please! No, no, Aunt June, no! Please!”

“If you want me to stop”—whack!—“stop that everlasting cow bawling!” Whack!

The belt descends again and again and again. I swallow the screams until the only sound is the slapping of the leather lashing hard against my bare brown legs. Words I did not know I knew are bouncing off the walls of my head.
You are a dirty ole naygar bitch, Aunt June. I wish I never come to live in your damn, blasted, bumboclaat house! I wish you would just drop down dead in the road and have black johncrow birds come and pick out your stinking dirty shitty batty-hole. I hope you go straight to hell and the Devil beat you in your raashole ten times worse that you beating me now.

I hate Aunt June. I hate her so much that I ask God to give her a heart attack like Wendy’s father. I force myself to ignore the stinging belt and I think again of the gifts I got from my schoolmates. I tell myself I don’t give a damn about licks, and Christ, and abomination. I can tell all the stories that I want. Aunt June does not know everything. My mother
could
be sending for me. I think hard about plane tickets and gold earrings and all the pretty things my mother is buying for my room. I wish I could send a message to her so she could come and save me.

I
sit on the back steps tearing at my braid and kicking the stones out into the yard. It is October, so the air is neither too hot nor too cool. Aunt June has taken Samantha and Shane to visit her sister in Darliston. She told Grandma that she wanted to take all of us, but since I can’t seem to control my tongue Delano and I should stay home. Delano is a little annoyed to be left behind, but I am glad we did not go. The house feels peaceful and quiet without them. Plus I don’t have to watch what I say when Aunt June is not around.

“Grandma, if Aunt June send me to live with somebody else, you going to come with me?” I chew the end of the braid and wait patiently for Grandma to answer.

“Lord Jesus, Stacey! Why you worry-worry yourself so? Nobody not sending you go nowhere. Oonu belong to me. Nobody but God can take oonu away from me. And take that hair out you mouth. You want it to go down in your stomach and kill you?”

“But what if Aunt June send me and Delano away? You would stay with her to look after Andrew, or you would come with us?”

“Lord, man! Settle yourself. You fret like you is a old person. Trust that God will take care of you, man.”

Grandma sighs. “You know, Stacey, if you did have Jesus in your heart you would have some peace of mind.” I groan and kick the dirt again. I wish Grandma would find something else to say when I ask her a question. I force myself to listen as she continues. “Stacey, me is almost seventy year old now. God is always watching over me. You know why? Because
every Sunday morning, rain or shine, me put on me Sunday clothes and go to church to give God thanks for the breath of life.”

“Yes, Grandma. But it would be nice to see God sometimes—to make it easier to believe in him. If I could see him, I would have all the faith in the world.”

“Never you mind, me baby. One day God will show you the way. Is not you is the first one to doubt him. And you won’t be the last. You can read your Bible now. Everything is in there for you to learn.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

While Grandma hangs clothes on the line, I confess to Delano that I believe in the Nancy Drew mystery books more than I believe the stories in the Bible. He immediately makes the sign of the cross and backs away from me. “Staceyann Chin, God must have a special place in heaven for people like you! Don’t come near me! I don’t want your lightning to strike me!”

“Delano, I like the stories in the Bible too. But not everything in there can be true. You think a whale can swallow a man and him don’t dead? You think the Devil can turn into a snake? You think real bread can fall from the sky?”

“La la la la la la la! Don’t talk to me—you is just a Jezebel that go lead me into temptation! La la la!” He puts his fingers in his ears and closes his eyes.

I pull at his hands and shout in his ear, “Look at the people in the whole Bible, Delano, nobody in there look like me or you or Grandma. Everything looks like a storybook. And there is no Black people, or Chinaman, and there is not even one verse about Jamaica—nothing that we have is in the Bible. If the Bible did have everything about everywhere, show me the verse about Jamaica.”

He punches me in the face and walks away. I wipe my stinging nose and scream at his retreating back, “And why nobody having fun in the Bible? Why everything have to wait till we get to heaven? I don’t believe there is any milk and honey in heaven. If there was milk and honey in the sky, why is rain just plain water?”

Delano turns around and makes his way back to me. He stops and points his finger at my reddening nose. “You are one very presumptuous sinner! That is why Aunt June don’t want to carry us anywhere. And if you say one more word to me I going to beat you up and kill you!”

I gather all my courage. “And why would Christ come back after they
beat him up, stab him in his side with a big old sword, and hammer him to a cross? He would be a damn fool if he did. Jesus is never coming back to earth. If I was Jesus, I would never come back at all. Them church people would wait till eternity for nothing!”

Delano raises his fist again and again and again. I do not even flinch as his punches fall on my temple, my chest, my neck. He takes one look at my face and pushes past me. I scream, “No milk, no honey, no Jamaica! No milk, no honey, no Jamaica. You hear me, Delano? There is no milk, and no honey, and no Jamaica!” He does not look back.

Delano tells Grandma that I am going to hell because I do not believe that Jesus is coming back. Grandma calls me inside and pulls me to her chest. She says that I am her little Doubting Thomas. She says she will never quarrel with me over God. She says that she has faith enough for the two of us.

“Stacey, I know that one day God is going to come to you and show you the holes in his hands. Just like Thomas, he will make you put your finger in his wounded side. Then you will believe. The only thing me can tell you is that you need God so you don’t end up like the life I did have before Jesus save me.”

Again, she cautions against the pitfalls of wallowing in sin with a demon-infested, tobacco-smoking, spirit-drinking Black man. “When is that time, find yourself a man who know God,” she warns. “One who could help you get closer to your Heavenly Father.”

She points to her ear and wags her finger at me. “Take it from me, poor old Bernice, a man who only want to bring you down on you back is a man who will want to bring you down in life. You take to that book-learning. That is good. That is the way to get out of this place where man want to use woman as workhorse. Read everything. The more knowledge you have, the less a man can use you for poppy-show. If I coulda read, your good-fi-nutten grandfather coulda never use me as him beating stick.”

W
hile we are away at school, Grandma sweeps the floor, watches the baby, sees about Pa Larry, and prepares the evening meal. After dinner we do homework while Grandma washes the dirty dishes piled onto the wooden table just outside the kitchen door.

Long after Shane and Samantha are done, Aunt June makes Delano and me sit at the table doing extra work. “You children are behind in your classes. This is the only way you can catch up.”

“Aunt June, I am not far from catching up, right?”

“No, Stacey, you are doing well, but remember that pride goeth before the fall.”

When she goes to change Andrew, I whisper to Delano, “Delano, today I get a gold star.”

He barely looks up from his multiplication tables. “That is good, man, Stacey, keep it up.”

“I get one yesterday too in Reading.”

Delano’s brow is wrinkled in concentration. “Uh-huh.”

“Delano, you listening to me? Delano!”

“Stacey, wait until I get this one, nuh.”

I wait until he looks up at me. “Delano, how come Grandma don’t look at our books anymore?”

“Stacey, you are the biggest complainer in the world. You don’t see that Grandma busy? You want her to stop doing the work them bring her here to do and look at your stupid homework?”

“Delano, I don’t want her to stop working. I just want her to look at the gold star I get for Story Writing and Comprehension.” My eyes are filled with tears and my hands are shaking as I doodle.

“Stacey, nuh bother with the crying, man.” He picks up the book and hands it to me. “Just take it and go and show her your gold star. Nobody not stopping you. Just take the book and go show her. Go on.” His voice is strangely gentle.

Book in hand, I make my way to the back door.

“Grandma!” I open my book and touch her arm. “Grandma, look. I get a gold star today.”

She looks down at the page and smoothes my hair. “That is good, man. Is a good ting you have your Aunt June to show you how to do good at the book-learning.”

I want to tell her how hard it is to get a gold star in Story Writing and Comprehension, but she looks so confused I close the book and pick up the dishwashing cloth. Grandma only lets me help with the dinner knives and the forks. I cannot touch the sharp knives because Grandma does not want me to cut off my fingers and become a nine-finger Jack. I am also
supposed to steer clear of the ceramic cups and plates. I tell Grandma that I am big enough now to wash a plate, crockery or no crockery. “No, no! Leave the things them that can break alone! Me don’t have no money to buy back Aunt June expensive cup and plate. Dry the eating knife and fork them. Me will do the rest.”

After homework and evening chores we watch the evening news. I like stories about people I do not know. The best news reporters are Dennis Hall and Fae Ellington. I don’t like Dennis Hall so much. He looks so old and white. Like he is a duppy. But Fae Ellington looks like a nice lady. She is very pretty. I wonder if my life would be good if Fae Ellington were my mother. I wish I could see her real skin color to see if she is the same as me. But everybody is the same shade of gray on the grainy image of the black-and-white TV.

As Fae introduces the weatherman, Aunt June bellows, “Staceyann! Staceyann Marshree Chin! Come in here right now!”

I follow her voice to the dining room. She holds aloft an eating knife. “What is this, young lady?” I hate to be called that.

“Is a knife, Aunt June, a
dinner knife
.”

“You take me for a fool? I know it is a dinner knife. Who washed it?”

“I washed it, Aunt June. What happen to it?” I am annoyed that I am missing the news.

“Jesus Savior, pilot me! Give me strength to deal with the audacity of this child! What you mean, what happened to it? And who you think you are talking to in that tone of voice? You think I am your friend and company?”

Her voice is rising and I am getting a little frightened. “Sorry, Aunt June, you asked me a question and I was just answering you. I never said anything ’bout no friend and company—”

She grabs my wrist and brings the knife to my face. My bladder contracts, but I take a deep breath and press both legs together before I let the air out again.

“Stop sighing at me, child! Stop sighing and look at this knife! This looks clean to you? Look at the food marks on it! You think we live like pigs here? If you wash a knife, it should look like you washed it!” She squeezes my hand so tightly I try to twist my arm away.

“Aunt June, let me go! You are squeezing up me hand!”

“Let you go? Let you go? You think you are a big woman here? You
are a child. I can hold you for as long as I damn well please! You do not tell me what to do in my own house!”

Again I try to pull away from her, but she tightens her grip and forces my arm out to expose the inside of my elbow. She then wipes the serrated edge back and forth across the soft skin there and slaps my arm with the handle, over and over. I look her square in the face. I do not make a sound.

Finally, she lets me go and throws the knife at me. “Little girl, you have the Devil himself inside of you! Put this back in the kitchen and find yourself in the bed!”

I turn toward the kitchen, and my heart drops from my chest to my stomach when I see Grandma standing by the door, wiping away tears. I stare at her, but she cannot look back at me. I make my way around her body, carefully lay the knife on the table with the clean dishes, and walk around her again. In the bathroom, I sob quietly against the sink, wishing I had an address to write a letter to my mother. I know that if she had seen what Aunt June was doing to me she wouldn’t have just stood there and let it happen.

Later, when Grandma comes to bed, she tries to rub my head. I push her hands away and turn over. The next morning, she is extra gentle combing the tangles out of my hair. I don’t want to be angry, but the kinder she is to me, the angrier I get. I stop washing dishes with her. She never asks me to help again.