MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter twelve ~ Dedicated to every child.

Owing to the incident in the forest, Iyila reached a decision that she was never going to join in any of Deila's adventures. She almost threatened to avoid Deila altogether, but the girl had proven to be indispensable so she decided to bury the hatchet. She couldn't understand the girl; how she thought and behaved, her easiness to quickly laugh and joke with every little thing. It was something she couldn't afford and it amazed her.

However, what she couldn't most comprehend was the mistress - Miss Susan. She had been more than startled when Deila informed her of the fellowship Susan had ordered. Miss Susan; even going as far as giving each slave a Sunday dress, that she had ordered to be worn every other Sunday. This meant that this Sunday was not the last.

Except, the dress was nothing of their sort - just a straight flowing down that was only some inches above the ankle. It had no chemise, hosiery, crinoline, corset, or matching hats or bonnets, to complement the gowns they wore, but it was all the same lovely. At least it was not made of negro cloth.

She calmly stood in the midst of the numerous servants in awe of the sight of so many slaves; blacks, mulattoes, octoroons, quadroons. With a rough estimate she concluded that they were more than three hundred excluding little children, who kept running from one butterfly to another. Also, she realized that the women were too delighted to be decently dressed as they had a docile simper on their face, including Delia who stood close to her. Iyila noticed from the corner of her eye that Delia never stopped staring down at herself with a grin on her face. Iyila, herself could not deny that she looked pretty in a purple gown.

Although it had no design like Collete's or Miss Susan's. Even so she could not help but wonder why Susan would spend so much in other for them to look presentable. She knew it had cost the mistress a fortune but for what purpose?

Despite being dressed neatly and decently she could not feel different. She still felt like a trapped bird in a cage. It was completely unnecessary in her opinion. It was no use if the whites would at last consider her, all of them, not worthy of being in the same gathering as them. If Susan was pleased to share her God with them, she should have as well invited them to the cathedral, she thought.

Other than to order a gathering behind the house, beneath a tree. Not even a seat to comfort their backs. And most annoying, being subdued to listen to a stout, fat, red-faced preacher. He introduced himself to be addressed as Mr. Martin Burtler. His nose was too large for his face, and his stomach, though his most attractive feature was rather too big, making him look like an overfed pig. His head, almost bald all through. Just a few hairs plastered here and there, as if the creator had been indecisive about adding some hair to his scalp. It made her wonder if he could breathe as his neck was not in sight. While she waited to listen to the preacher, the whole arena was quiet and it appeared that everyone was eager to hear from God.

"Proverbs chapter one, verse seven. I read. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction. Directly from the holy book negroes!" the preacher calmly said, a disdainful sneer on his face as he addressed the slaves; atop a podium made of wood, high enough to encourage his height.

"Ye have erred negroes. Ye have forsaken God, just like the children of Israel. Ye have neglected the true God; ye have not heeded his words that is why ye will suffer till ye die!" He hatefully said, raising his hand in emphasis.

Turning around, Iyila noticed that a tiny commotion had followed after the man's outburst. She noticed that even Delia was confused because her face didn't betray her emotions. She knew that most negroes could not understand English talk, let alone the sayings of the Bible. It was just as she had presumed, a bad idea.