MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter nineteen ~ Dedicated to Souyo

The week that followed was accompanied by stories of the master's son. Rumours about the coming of the master's son was already in the air. Iyila had learned of it from the Master while cleaning his study one morning. Through the other negroes she had heared that he was a man, known as Gabriel; with features so striking that no one could match it in the whole of the South. Some had said that he was a very gentlemanly, while others argued that he was the most helpless rake. He was taller than Mr. John, more charming than Zacharaeus and as sensible as Miss Susan some had even added. Others went further to say that he was unusually intelligent. That he could read a big book in a day and carry all it's contents in his head. As for Deila, Iyila never went through a day without hearing her gloat about the master's son and how intoxicating his presence was. Even Mama Brown had confirmed the stories, also adding that the Gabriel man had the greenest eyes and the deepest dimples anyone could ever imagine. She had even said that he was a very compassionate man who considered the skin she bore, not as dirt.

However, as Iyila stood close to the kitchen window and fixed her gaze on a tree with brances almost touching the ground, she could not believe that anyone could have eyes the colour of a leaves or dimples so deep that water could stand in it. She consisered all the stories preposturous and perhaps over exaggerated. She could not assume that a son of the Master who was to be heir of such a plantation possess any fair feeling towards her light yellow skin or the brown skin that most of her colleagues bore. For it was impossible and ridiculous to say that the apple fell far from the tree. Neither could she concour with the tale of him being able to carry all the contents of a book in his head. It was impossible for man and was limited to a few. Most especially the stories of his build. She wondered if anyone could be as tall as the Master who could easily be referred to as a giant. The more she thought of all the stories, the greater she found the possibility of truth faint. But sometimes, admist playing with Thomas, she stopped to wonder if it was humanly possible for one man to have such graceful features. Sometimes she paused to imagine a man just like the rumours had described. Still doubt usually crept in. One day while scrubbing the floor, she had heard two old negroes say that he was very ill-tempered. That had instilled fear in her and she dreaded his coming. It was enough that Mr John and Zachary were already turning the plantation to a hellish place. She could not imagine a man twice as bad as them to join the battalion. Horror was what usually flashed in her mind. She resolved to avoid him just the way she did Zachary.

But Miss Susan had spoken nice of him that morning when she was waiting on her - "My son is coming, his name is Gabriel, you will be astonished when you see him" - Miss Susan had cheerfully said. Iyila only nodded in response. Iyila noticed that the Mistress was especially excited about his coming. In the evening when an acquaintance of Miss Collete - Miss Anne-Maria - visited. They usually stayed in the garden; drank tea and laughed until dawn. When Iyila served them tea in the garden, she sometimes stole glances at Anne-Maria. Iyila had been competely astonished by the woman's exceptional beauty and charisma the first time she saw her. Her wealthy posture and gracefulness was just and addition to her golden hair, dazzling white skin, and slender face that made Iyila consider God baised, mostly when the woman smiled, flashing her even white teeth. Her nose was so firm that Iyila thought it would sink into a man's face if he ever tried to kiss her. Even her clothes spoke of affluence, but Iyila loathed the woman for her manners, for she was lacking in that regard. Iyila's hatred for her started the second day she had served them tea in the garden. Miss Susan had thanked Iyila for serving them tea but Anne-Maria had quickly querried Susan for been modest with a disdainful negro. There was no synonym for Iyila's composure, she was extremely ballistic and had the urge to visit the sharp mouth's face with her fist, but fear of sanction had deprived her of such action. Even the thought of adding pepper or ink to her tea was inviting but Iyila remained firm on her decision not to get moved by the insults of the superior class, it was afterall temporal.

* * *

Frowning, Iyila picked a plate from the basin of steaming hot water. She felt irritated by the smell her tired body produced as a result of working since morning, and her stomach kept grumbling. She wished she could rest a little but the basins of plates and cutlery to wipe discouraged her of any retirement soon. Miss Racheal had laid emphasis on the shininess of the plates, and especially the cutlery, shining to reflect her image. Miss Susan was expecting some guests which Racheal had referred as the high and mighty of the South. Iyila had no knowledge of the idiom but she did not bother. As she cleaned, she noticed that the other negro was equally tired. The frown on the other girl's face was rather intense as if she wished to dump all the plates and run away. The girl had refused to talk to Iyila even when she spoke to her, so Iyila decided to keep to herself. However, Iyila decided to start a conversation and perhaps lighten the girl's mood, but as soon as she opened her mouth to say a word, a sharp sound tore through the silence, disrupting her intentions. Iyila and the girl stared frightened at each other and in a dash rushed to the window to see the cause of the noise. They were more than shocked to see Zachary following two bleeding negroes; bounded in shackles and dragged along by two other Whites. Iyila noticed that the negroes were almost naked except for a filthy rag that was carelessly attached to their waists. The female negroes' loin cloth was scarlet red with blood and she was pleading but the negroes paid no heed to her. On the order of Zachary they tied the begging negroes to the tree Iyila had stared at that morning.

"Ham no sorry fo tryin nah run away buh ha know yas gonna be sorry fo rapin mah wafe." the male negro shouted at Zachary. "Shut him up, do it now!"

"All of ya rape mah wafe, Gad no's dah devil aint gonna reject your soul."

"Do it now!" Zachary yelled again and the other man began to whip the negroes while they screamed and cried. The negro beside Iyila rushed to the floor and began to sob. "No, no, no," she kept on saying but Iyila was curious to see the end.

"I can understand when negroes complain about basic neccesities of life, but Freedom is just utterly preposturous, ridiculous, the height of stupidity. What does a negro know except producing? Huh? tell me!" he screamed. Iyila flinched a little but it did not deter her from looking. Zachary took the whip from the man and continued to whip the negroes, in no time his white shirt was stained with blood. He stopped to catch his breath and that was when the other man notified him of negroes' death. The tears in Iyila's eyes for the first time obeyed her, she was surprised that her face was yet to be soaked with tears, but when she saw him dart his gaze in her direction, she quickly dropped to the ground.

The other negro was already soaked with tears and her nose was running uncontrollable. "Ha tol' em not to run, dah tis was dangerous, ha tol' em dah they wes never gonna go far enof befo' dah massa comes for em buh dey won lisan. They won run to Chicago, ter have chilren there buh ha tol em it aint so easy," the negro lamented as she pounded the ground with her fist. Her sobs were now uncontrollable, Iyila slowly moved to her and cuddled her.

"What do we do with them?"

"Leave them there, surely this will serve as a warning to any stupid slave who intends to run away." Those were the last words Iyila heared before silence consumed the whole plantation.

Author's note. Sorry sorry for d wait. The next chapter will also be updated tomoro.