The Interlude #WattysShorts

Chapter 3

The next morning, I was awakened by a commotion in the house. I slowly got out of bed to see what was going on. My mother and her niece didn't seem to be bothered by the bustle. Aunt Alice was sweeping up the yard, throwing water on the floor to keep the dust out. The broom scraped the floor with a plaintive sound.

 She had taken out all the goats and sheep that were grazing quietly around a fire with a lot of smoke. It was awfully cold. We were wrapped in a blanket of fog and I felt like I was in a waking dream. Uncle Pierre was getting out his bicycle with several cases of beer and a can of banana wine attached to it. "It's market day and you have to be there early to get the best location," he explained to me. I went back to sleep.

When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining through the holes in the roof, forming yellow dots here and there on the sheets. My mother and Christine were no longer there. I could hear them talking and laughing in the living room, even Aunt Alice seemed to be having a good time. I joined them and sat down next to my cousin. I didn't know what time it was because nobody had a watch in this house.

According to my aunt, depending on the position of her shadow in the sun, it was around 10 o'clock. My mother took bread, sugar, milk and tea from the green bag for breakfast. My aunt and her daughter opened their eyes and salivated. In the countryside, these were luxury goods reserved for the wealthy. 

In no time at all, hot water was on the table. Ten minutes later, my mother and I had finished our tea while Alice and her daughter slowly turned the sugar in the tea, after having put five spoonfuls each, under the strong protests of my mother. Then they enjoyed every bite of bread soaked in the tea with milk. It seemed as if they had just discovered unknown and fertile lands. They were amazed and wept with joy. I didn't know that a simple breakfast could bring so much emotion. I hesitated between mocking and laughing. A single murderous wink of my mother's eye shut me up. They took so much time that they would have been there all day if my mother hadn't reminded her sister to fetch water.

The four of us went. My mother, her sister and her niece took some large jerry cans and then they gave me a small jug. The two sisters walked slowly while they were talking and we discreetly followed my cousin and me, trying to pick up bits of their conversation. We walked through a wood of eucalyptus trees before we reached the fountain below.

The water was gushing out of a mountain. Naked women were washing themselves, some were drying themselves in the sun, others were doing the laundry and spreading their clothes on the grass that grew around the fountain. There were no grown men, only little boys on their mother's back. The water supply was a female chore. When we appeared, some women greeted my mother warmly and invited her to sit next to them, but at the sight of me, they were indecisive and stared at me intensely. They were intrigued by my hairstyle.

I had long black braids. They had never seen a little girl wear this on her head before. "Only the village madman had this kind of hair", remarked one of the women who dried her skirts in the sun.

My mother's hair was short and straightened. They were used to it, but my long braids bothered them. They came to touch me and nodded their heads in disbelief. They couldn't understand how my mother could let me grow such things on my head. She tried to show them how to make braids but they were perplexed by my hairstyle.

I was tired of being looked at as if I had lice. So I moved away from my mother's group to get closer to my cousin's group. She was chatting with her friends. As soon as I got closer, they moved away. Apparently, my hair was still a problem. Maybe I was the reincarnation of a malevolent spirit. My cousin didn't know what to say in my defence. They were deaf to her recriminations. The older one decided she didn't want me in their gang. My cousin chose to join them and was left alone to contemplate the water.

This spring water that never stopped flowing. I could hear my mother shouting when we were at home: "Turn off that tap! You're not paying the bill! "

And here, were these women paying any bills? The water was running all the time and neither my mother nor anyone else seemed to notice or care. I went around to find out where the water was coming from but all I saw was a simple pipe coming out of the mountain and clear water slowly flowing towards the fields in the distance. It was fresh water with a ferrous taste. The villagers drank from the pipe before filling their containers. It was a ritual.

They all got up at once. It was time to return to the village. We left in order of arrival. So a long column of women entered the woods, all carrying a container of water on their heads. We closed the procession. Some of them pulled out blue eucalyptus leaves to perfume the water. My jug was always tottering.

I wondered how they managed to do this, as many of them also carried a child on their backs, and others had wooden bundles in their hands. They walked with their backs straight and chatted happily. My neck was aching, my back was wet and my jug was emptying at a glance. Stopping each time to adjust it, I slowed them down but obviously it was fun! When we finally arrived home, I swore I would never go back to fetch water. My cousin's friends had made fun of me along the whole way. They thought I was not a girl if I couldn't keep my water balanced on my head. I was crying with anger hidden in the bedroom.

Later, I heard an exchange of shrill whistles between my cousin and other children. They were coming to pick her up to go and play. When she came to pick me up from the room, I insulted her profusely and slammed the door shut. My mother then pulled me out of bed, calling me a snob and ordering me to go and play with the others. I complied.

My cousin gave me the jug again, I had to go and fetch the water for the evening shower first. I walked at a brisk pace. They were all waiting for us in the rugo area, boys and girls. This time the atmosphere had changed. No one stepped back as I approached. A boy walked towards me. He was different. He was wearing a tailored short, a clean straitjacket and sandals. He was all dressed up in front of the rags that the others were wearing. There were two of us who weren't barefoot. He gauged me and then told the others:

"We mustn't be afraid of her. She looks like Mami Wata, the goddess of water drawn in my father's book. She will rather protect us."

They were sceptical but nobody dared to contradict him. He was the teacher's son. That's how I joined the group. Then we went to the fountain.

Prosper, as he was called, ordered one of the girls to carry my jug and that of my cousin. I was treated like a princess and was happy to be treated like one. The girls went to fetch water and the boys collected wood. Lying under a flamboyant red flower bed with my eyes closed, I was enjoying the peace and quiet I had found while Prosper and my cousin hid the water they had drawn with a few branches from the flamboyant bed. Then our group moved to another hill to play. 

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Mami Wata is our mermaid but her hair are braided because she is a black woman. It is the representation I grew up seeing in books. 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Consider to vote if you are liking what you read and comment to start a conversation.

See you to the next chapter....