Obeah Gal (A Jamaican Story)

Part 4

THAT WAS HOW THE RUMOURS STARTED OFF in the village, the one that labelled Maree 'Obeah Gal'. Most of the people would keep out of her way as much as possible, and avoid annoying her in fear of her casting evil on them. But at the same time they found themselves turning to her in times of trouble.

Maree herself ignored the rumour, in fact she didn't really mind at all – it suited her fine not having to be bothered about other people. But she found herself having a devoted admirer. Every time she worked in Ma Nelsies' garden, Carl would come to 'help', or just to sit by and watch and chat garbled sense. Although Maree didn't say much, she began to enjoy the little boy's company, and he became like a little brother to her. One that wasn't becoming alienated to her by an uncaring mother and a big city.

A few more years went by, and Maree's life was very much the same as before: quiet and peaceful. She supported herself – and she didn't need much – by helping out here and there in the village, with animals, plants, or – very occasionally (when there was no one else to turn to), the villagers themselves. It was something Maree enjoyed doing; and although she never charged for her assistance, no one would let her leave unrewarded. Superstitious as those country folks were, they did not dare to take any risk whatsoever.

One early evening after Maree returned from a two-day disappearance into the bush up on the hill together with Lucky, Carl came with a sack of coal on his little wooden cart. He was seven years old now, growing strong and healthy, without a sick day in his life since the incident that brought Maree and him together – in contrast to his older brother and sisters who were catching the 'flu or something every other week, month or blue moon. Carl had become Maree's errand boy – a job that no one envied him for and which he only enjoyed doing for her. And Maree appreciated it because it meant much less unnecessary dealings with people she couldn't and didn't care to understand.

"You fi start prepare, storm soon come," he said after unloading the cart.

Maree looked up at the sky that wasn't altogether its normal self, with a few peculiar-looking clouds in the East. But it wasn't until the following morning when she went to do her regular work in Ma Nelsie's garden that she began to realise what Carl had meant by 'storm'. Ma Nelsie had all her glass windows blocked up with sheets of corrugated zinc.

"No bother with the garden today, Maree. Come help me get the potted plants inside an then we mus fill up some water." She paused and looked at Maree, who looked puzzled. "You no hear? A tropical storm's coming right this way. It change it course. In fack, them say it soon be a hurricane. Them all name it aready. Don't say you no hear?"

"Carl did a say someting bout storm, but..."

"Girl, you muss listen to you radio. This one might be serious. It close enough to turn hurricane already. Don't follow them youth thinking nothing can lick them, bout them curious fi see what hurricane look like. You stay here with me, Maree. You yard no safe enough an the storm a go strike early inna the morning."

Maree shook her head as she took another fluffy fern down from the verandah. "I muss go home."

"No, Maree, it too risky. It a go take way you roof in no time, fi sure. Don't try to brave it, Maree. You'll be alright with me."

But Maree wouldn't listen. She left as soon as all the loose objects outside the house had either been taken inside, or tied down somehow. Walking that mile back home she noticed that almost everybody was busy around their homes making sure that there was nothing lying about that could be taken by the wind. Windows were boarded up, some antennas taken down, zinc sheets nailed down and up, and animals gathered together. At the two community standpipes, those who couldn't or didn't want to afford it running at home, lined up with buckets and large plastic or metal containers on wheel barrows and push-carts for their normal and extra supply of water. And everywhere she could hear radios playing, keeping the nation up-to-date with news bulletins.

Maree took a deep breath – it was an effort, and it was only now she was noticing how the atmosphere had changed. The air was hotter and stickier than she was used to, even though the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of gray that seemed to be a part of the sky – and not a flicker of a breeze could be felt. It made walking more tedious a task than usual.

When Maree reached home, she slowly started to gather all the loose things inside the shack she could find and placed them under her bed. There was nowhere else to put them. Even the radio went that way without a second thought as to its useful purpose. Meanwhile, Lucky curiously watched her movements.

Then she went outside to see what she could do there. Her chicken family and young goat she had received as payment on different occasions she would take inside later. What about her little friends in the glade? She went to have a look but they were nowhere in sight. Even the birds had disappeared.

The evening arrived with puffy inflamed clouds in the west and a bleakness in the east. Rapidly it became dark, and everything was still. Maree lay in her bed listening to the occasional stir of Lucky and the goat. But she could not sleep. Her eyes wandered in the darkness of her only room, wondering. But she wasn't afraid. She had faith. She would just wait.

Later in the night, a strong gusty breeze came in from the southeast. It was more than a breeze, it was a wind – or several winds. She curled up, listening to the trees rustling more and more vigorously, growing wilder by the hour. Lucky started to bark as if to say, 'Hey, you! You disturbing my sleep!' – but soon he curled up beside Maree on the bed, and the chickens and goat found themselves a more comforting spot under the foot of the bed.

Nature must be vexed with someone the way it was going on, Maree thought. Extremely angry. Her shed was creaking now, she could feel the wooden walls moving behind her bed. The roof was becoming extremely loud-mouthed, whether or not it was being beaten by loose limbs flying in the air, yet refusing to give way; and every now and then a splash of water caught her. Lightning turned her room into instant day with sudden claps of thunder that made her jump at first, but then she settled down, dozing fitfully.

Tearing crashes, roaring and howling winds whistled through the cracks of the walls into her disturbed dreams. Dreams of looking up, seeing a figure far out where the waves broke on a small reef. Dreams of hearing a voice drowned by the crashing of the waves, calling to the lady of the forest. Dreams of not hearing her own voice answering...

Then silence. Total silence. 

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