Obeah Gal (A Jamaican Story)

Part 3

THE TIME CAME for the wedding. It was a small affair which only included the immediate family(s) and close friends, much to Miss Black-Mrs Kingsley's hidden disappointment. She'd hoped to have a big ceremony in the village church so that the whole community would see what a classy future she was marrying herself into, and that she would have to be looked up to and not down at as she'd been most all her life. That was, especially after she as a teen got herself involved with the half-'coolie' who had half dozen other girls as jealous as cobras, and who abandoned her as soon as she was visibly pregnant with Maree. Maree became, as a result, the object of her blame, the reminder of her dented, trampled-on pride. 

As for the two boys, they were 'only' the result of Miss Black trying to support herself, or in other words: getting support. No luck that time either, and contraceptive was not an option in those struggling days. Luckily for her, Mr Kingsley was willing to overlook her past mistakes, and no one was ever the wiser as to why.

The following day, the family moved in with Mr Kingsley. That is, the family minus Maree, who refused to budge from home. Her mother couldn't care less, the girl could do as she liked, she was old enough – but the shack was to be sold. Mr Kingsley, however, would not hear of such a thing: he was concerned – they couldn't just leave her daughter on the road just like that! How would she manage, she wasn't even sixteen yet! He finally convinced Mrs Kingsley to forget about selling, "Who would want to buy it anyway? You don't need money, so why don't you just let her have it?"

That was how Maree came to have a home all for herself without any ifs or buts and she was happier than she'd ever been before. She had four places where she tended the gardens and now there was no one at home to take her small earnings away from her. But at least once, usually twice a month, Mr Kingsley would swing by to see how she was doing. Each time as before, he would have something with him for her: some groceries, sometimes a gift, and always some money. He would also inspect the shed to check whether more repairs needed to be done. 

The second month Mr Kingsley came, he had a small cassette radio with him. Maree looked at it.

"Do take it, Maree," he said.

She shook her head – what use was that to her?

"Please. You know I have to make sure that you're okay, 'cause I do feel a bit guilty for taking your mother away from you."

She looked directly up at him with her impenetrable black eyes. "Is di best ting yu do fi mi," she said honestly; and she turned and walked slowly away with the ugly scarred dog with the well-kept collar at her heels. 

Mr. Kingsley was left alone, somewhat amazed and bewildered; but all the same, he was understanding that strange shy girl a bit better. He left, after leaving the radio on her bed with some spare batteries.

One late evening, after Maree had just gone to bed, there was a frantic knocking on her door. "Miss Maree! Miss Maree!"

She opened the door cautiously. It was a young boy. "Mi likkle bredda sick, help 'im, Miss Maree!"

"How mi mus help yu – mi no docta?" She was disturbed by the distress in the boy's face.

"De clinic close an Ma Nelsie say yu can help!" He was breathless. "Please come, do!"

She took a deep breath and nodded, and briskly went to change clothes again, grabbing her shoulder wrap. Her mind was in a turmoil. "Is what 'appen to 'im?" she asked as they half-ran down the road.

"Scorpion bite 'im, Miss!"

Ma Nelsie met them at the gate. "Thank God you were home, Maree; him can hardly breathe!"

But Maree was afraid. "But Ma Nelsie, mi no know how fi help 'im."

"Is okay, I know you can do it. I seen you. Come," and Maree was taken by the arm and led into the house where everything was far from peaceful. 

Three-year-old Carl was producing some peculiar crying sounds broken by laboured coughs, and his mother held him in her arms walking back and forth trying to soothe him while the father was pacing the floor and ordering the other children to stay out of the room. 

"So wha' she can do?" he blurted out. "She jus a pickney!"

Ma Nelsie ignored him. "Give her the baby," she said firmly and Maree found herself with the little boy in her arms. That was when she saw the angry swelling at the base of his neck, and when he opened his mouth again to cry, no sound came and she saw the swollen tongue. The child started to cough and Maree felt herself totally at a loss. She looked up at Ma Nelsie as if to say the same thing the father had demanded: What could she do? But Ma Nelsie just made her sit down on the sofa and asked the father to leave.

"But how mi fi leave mi pickney dying?!" he burst out. "A mi 'im fatha and mi cyaan—"

"Nobody's dying 'round here, so git out!" Ma Nelsie pointed towards the door. "We need some privacy here."

Meanwhile, Maree had turned all her attention towards Carl. He was having extreme difficulties in breathing now, poor thing. She could feel the empathic warmth starting to grow from within her, down her arms which held the child, and up her neck and throat and to her ears. She sat there, totally still, with the boy in her arms, unaware of anything else but the slowly returning-to-normal breathing of her patient. 

She did not notice that Ma Nelsie was watching keenly, with the mother's head held against her shoulder. And in the 40-watt light from the ceiling, the widow observed something that looked like a slight haze of light surrounding the upper half of the girl's body – and it seemed to slowly envelop the boy too.

Ma Nelsie blinked. She had never seen anything like it before – if she was even seeing it at all. All she knew was that Maree seemed to have a peculiar gift for healing the sick, and if it could work on animals, it should work on Carl too.

She turned almost reluctantly away – this was not for her or anyone to watch.

All was still for a long while. Maree totally lost grasp of time. When she finally looked up it was more than a half-an-hour later. She was alone in the room and Carl was sleeping peacefully. She looked tenderly at him – she had done it. She rose slowly and went out on the varandah where his parents and Ma Nelsie were waiting fearfully and handed the boy to his mother.

"'Im alright now?" the father asked anxiously.

Maree nodded, she did not dare to speak – not that anyone would think that unusual – but she had a feeling that her tongue was somewhat stiff. And she felt exhausted.

"Look, 'im breathing okay an' di swelling... mi cyaan hardly find it! Mi no know how yu do it, mi no care, how can I ever thank yu, Miss Maree?"

But Maree was already on her way to the gate. Ma Nelsie caught up with her. "You do a great job, Maree. You had nothing to 'fraid of."

The girl didn't reply, she just looked at her, her thoughts swimming, then went back out on the poorly lit road.

Carl recovered completely from his scare that night, and when his mother took him to the clinic the following morning, not even the nurse practitioner could find anything wrong with him. There was only a small reddish dot by his neck where the scorpion had stung him and that was all.

That was how the rumours started off in the village, the one that labelled Maree 'Obeah Gal'.

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