Seventeen November 1971 #3
But, at the time, it was hard for us to leave the events of that week behind us.
No one had the right to put an innocent woman in handcuffs.
Especially when she had done nothing wrong.
I thought of them pulling her arms behind her, forcing her into the back of a car.
And I got angry. It didn’t help that after that night Kiju went quiet again.
She spoke only when it was required. She went to bed early and slept late.
She let the last of the fruits and vegetables rot on the vine or the tree.
I took up her duties of food preparation and preserving each day after school.
We did dishes together, but there were no stories, no laughter, no asking about my day.
After Paulina came to visit and we saw the newborn, healthy and in his mother’s arms, I thought she might come around, but she didn’t.
The moment Paulina was out of sight, her smile disappeared again.
She sighed heavily and I swear that sigh took all her joy right along with it, escaping through the cracks in the walls, the narrow emptiness under the doors.
I decided to call Sally from our neighbour’s house.
It was the only thing I could think to do. She came right away.
“Kiju, I heard what happened,” she said when she arrived.
Sally had come on the train, her daughter slung across her front, a backpack on her back. It was strange to see her without all those boys following behind her like little ducklings.
“Oh, you didn’t have to come all this way.”
“Of course I had to come.” Sally handed me the baby. I held her and looked into her eyes, brown but with a fleck of gold.
“I just feel lost, I suppose. This is what I’m meant to do.
No one comes for my teas or my ointments anymore.
Each year I make them, and no one comes.
I am left with having to get rid of them when they go bad.
And now this.” She held up her bruised wrists.
“I don’t know what to do with myself. What is a woman without purpose? ”
“You have purpose. My lord, what would we all do without you? Where would Aliet be without you?”
Kiju was sitting beside the fire, and I handed her Faye, who quickly fell asleep nestled in her lap, small bubbles occasionally appearing from between her thin pink lips. Kiju looked at the baby and not at Sally.
“You have this beautiful granddaughter to care for, and me and Big Ben. You know we couldn’t get along without you. You know there are people here all around that can’t get along without you.”
“For a couple weeks each fall. And now less come.”
Folks still came in the fall. More for a visit now and less about apple picking. The poor white folk were becoming the preferred pickers now. For reasons beyond my understanding, they had suddenly become more trustworthy than us brown folks.
“And what am I supposed to do when they leave? When Aliet is older, independent? It won’t be long and she won’t need me anymore at all.”
I had been sitting on my bed, the small door open so I could hear what was being said.
“I still need you, Kiju.”
I walked out and bent down to sit beside the chair. I smelled the top of the baby’s head, and smiled at my grandmother.
“I still don’t know everything. You need to teach me so when the world comes to its senses, I will know what to do. I need you, Kiju. I need you and Sally needs you, and what happens when baby Faye comes to our door with her first baby ready to be born? We all need you.”
Sally stayed for two days before she had to get back.
She helped with the canning and preserving of the last of the apples and the late fall harvest. Some fruit had already gone bad, and we fed those to the pig who cared less about such things.
Kiju slowly began sharing her knowledge with us, like the best recipe for calming a bad belly.
It was knowledge we already knew, but we listened just as intently as if it were our first time.
Soon Kiju began to smile again. Sally was reluctant to go, but I assured her that things were under control now.
Big Ben had never been alone with all those boys, and she was afraid what the house might look like and the junk they might be eating.
By the time Sally left, Kiju was nearly back to herself, but she was really never the same.
Something had hurt her deep down. I understood that kind of pain more than most, I suppose.
But it was different for her. I had someone to blame, but Kiju had no one to blame.
No one single person had caused this pain, it was a pain that had been developing for years, and so many people, whether they knew it or not, had been part of its creation.
Her inability to focus on a single point of anger made her pain more difficult to manage.
The police sometimes drove by, slowing their cars to take a long look at the house.
They seemed to take a great interest in the path that led to the tree, and you could find them there sometimes, walking up and down the path “for exercise,” they said when asked.
They even extended the path beyond the tree and put up a sign, telling everyone that there was now a new walking path in town and encouraging people to take leisurely strolls.
Anything to keep us away, and keep an eye on us at the same time.
No more babies were born under the tree.
Whispers around town grew loud as the news spread about our arrests that night with Paulina.
In the mind of the public, bringing a life into the world was an act of witchcraft, making tea to ease pain and discomfort was a poison.
Respect had turned into suspicion, and a good woman’s heart had been shattered into a million pieces.
I was the one who had to put the pieces back together.
But I don’t know if I ever really did, and for that, I’m sorry.