MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter seventeen ~ Dedicated to My new nephew Ivin

Deila stared at Iyila as if she had asked her to correctly read and recite the Lord's prayer, or correctly pronounce a jaw breaking word in English. She blinked her eyes again to know if she was actually dreaming or halucinating but the delightful smile Iyila wore made her realize that she was unfortunately, awake.

"Yo mean run away!" she calmly asked to be sure she heard correctly. Iyila quickly nodded, tittering along.

"Yo mad? Run away! ya no wah yo say?" Deila impatiently asked. Anger, gradually making it's way towards her heart. "Of course Deila. We should run. There are indeed free states where we folks can__"

"Live and be hapi?" Deila interrupted. "Yes, yes, the letter says it. We could go to __"

Iyila was about to say go to chicago when Deila slapped her on the cheek, though the slap was not a hard one, she had not expected it. She was surprised.

"Why?" Iyila angrily questioned. "Das ter bring yo senses back! Where yo wanna go?"

"Chicago"

"Who do ya no in Chicago?"

Iyila opened her mouth to say something but the words would not come out. Of course she did not know anyone in Chicago and neither was she sure that her mother would take her - that is if she ever saw her - but she was determined. If negroe-free states truly existed then negroes did one thing or the other to survive. She believe that she could work and earn money - her money - born out of her sweat, not compelled by a master with a whip.

"Go on, tel' me, where ya gonna live? How yo gonna survive? How yo gonna hide till da massa gehs tire' of searching fo ya, end mos' of all how yo gonna 'scape from t'is plantasion?" Deila asked.

Iyila felt a little bit confused and her eyelids began to shake uneasily. She had not thought of any of that and it made her think if she had any hope whatsoever. But she was determined. "I will definitely seek for a safe escape plan. I run beautifully and__"

"Running aint enof Iyila. When da massa gehs ya hes gonna kill yo, ya no wah he does to runaways, he's place a ransom on ya and ders gonna find yo end when those slave-catchers gehs yo they brings yo straight ter da massa end hes gonna break yo will," Deila angrily said, poking Iyila's head with a finger. "Da massa gonna tie yo up and whip yo until yo crah fo mercy buh he's no gonna listen. Even when yo beg fo death hes no gonna give yo. He's gonna reap yo small by small until yo see death calling on yo buh immediately yo stretch your hand out to touch death da massa is gonna drag yo back to this hell!" Deila finished. Iyila was wounded by Deila's narration especially as she narrated with some demonstration and her empty breast shaking with every move.

She remained silent as she tried to process what Deila had said. All her dreams were falling out of her grip and she could do nothing to hold them back. Having Dede, the six children, the small house, the farm, the lessons, the dress, most of all the desire to see her mother again. In some seconds, it was shattered by Deila warnings. Angrily, she got up; without saying a word to Deila, she removed her clothes and slowly walked into the water. It was warm and cosy. She closed her eyes and dipped herself; she wanted to stay there forever but she could not, she rushed out gulping for air and sobbing. When she stared at Deila the only thing she thought of was to whip Deila until she promised not to ever discourage anyone. Deila was staring back at her and she noticed that Deila was also crying. Dipping herself once more, she resolved to run away whether or not Deila disagreed.

***

Iyila promised herself that nothing would demolish her determination to run away. Not even Deila, or Zachary, no one. Most of all, when the day promised to be the worst for her, she consoled herself with the idea of running away. When she had nothing to do and was not at Brown's eating red-fruit, she spent her time planning how to run and imagining her life with Dedeny and their six children. She already had a name for her two daughters and resolved to allow Dede the honour of naming their four sons. Yet she never made any of her plans visible for Deila to notice. She assumed Deila would try to discourage her again.

Most times when she cleaned the Master's private study, she searched for more clues about Chicago, but was never lucky to find any except old manuscripts, letters and novels. One day in her act, she was almost caught but had a lucky escaped. She had just moved away from the desk when Mr. John walked in and instructed her to leave. She had been shocked, depressed but swore to continue until she found something. However, aside from fantasising of freedom and searching for clues, she busied herself with Dede. She was always quick to stare at him when he passed by and immediately resumed her duties when he looked towards her direction. They never spoke to each other except when he came to call on her, for Brown of course. She noticed he usually wore a frown that meant - he would never speak to her, unless it was necessary and his voice was always empty as if it killed the life in him to speak with a fellow like her, a white's bastard.

Still, she never allowed his altitude to get to her. She always tried to smile whenever he spoke to her. And in order to make him speak to her often, she waited until he came to call her, even though she had an intention to visit Brown. Most times she seized the opportunity to hold long conversations with him. He woild say: "Good evening, Brown asked me to call on you, see her as soon as you can," Instead of just responding, "Definitely," she would either ask him if Brown was sick; if the call was urgent; if he had seen Tari; or even her whereabouts. More often than not he replied with a simple "yes" or "no", or a single nod. There was a day that he spoke nicely to her and politely answered her questions. She had marvelled and been excited, but it did not last because he quickly returned to his old self and his expression became regrettful. But in spite of his sass, speaking with him were the moments she always longed for. They were the moments that she looked forward to and considered worthwhile, because those were the times that she could steal glances at him. Those were the times that she could capture the little facts of her supposed children's father-to-be. His shy dimples that appeared almost infrequently, unlike Mira's that would show even if she was not laughing, the two tribal marks on his cheek that resembled Brown's, his eyelids that shook as he talked, his well carved face, his thick eye brows and milk coloured teeth.

She could not explain her feelings for him, but she knew it was a strong admiration. Iyila had always pushed away all the negroes who had made passes at her while she was at the Amos plantation, but Dede she was more than willing to accept. The desire for him was the same as her urge for a child which she had, in her prior home, detested. She knew that she wanted one and this whole feeling escalated when one of the negros in the plantation gave birth to a girl. Unlike her, she visited the woman and offered to carry the child. Holding the child in her arms, she smiled. The child was an octoroon, weak and fragile though, she looked beautiful. The child smiled and Iyila felt her heart beat multiply and a sudden warmth enveloped her. She held the baby's hand and caressed it's sleek hair. She knew she wanted one, urgently.