shame. “Me don’t ’ave nuh family, sa,” he lied. “Tell me where de river der an’ me would forward to it, sa.”
“But yuh mus’ ’ave ah strikin’ plot somewhere,” Neville insisted. “How cyan yuh born widout family. If yuh is ah trickster or ah t’ief me gwarn lick yuh wid me piece ah breezeblock ’til de crab louse come outta ya dutty hair!”
Refusing to answer, Joseph continued to stare at the floor. Amy, wrestling free from her mother’s grip, stepped to her father’s side. She took a lingering look at the visitor. He was different from anybody she had ever seen. So dark! So tall! And the eyes! So pitiful. But he looked strong, his shoulders barely fitting within the door frame. Amy compared Joseph’s jawbone to a Blue Mahoe branch that she sometimes sat upon.
Seeing himself as a Godly man, Neville considered that if he offered this young beggar some food and a place to rest his bones for the night, it would only enhance his reputation, especially if he told the aged preacher man about it. Yes, old Mister Forbes would have to talk about this good deed in church, he thought. Maybe if I play my cards right, the good people of Claremont might want me to sermon them when the preacher man passes away and rises to heaven to get his reward. Wise Mister Forbes bones are getting creaky and his crazy son, Isaac, spends him time trying to sway pretty girls to follow him to the bush. “Alright, bwai,” Neville decided. “Yuh know ya name?”
“Joseph,” muttered the stranger, his words aimed to the floor.
“Come in, Joseph. We will give yuh ah liccle supper an’ somewhere to rest ya mosh-up foot…Amy, start up de fire an’ boil some water an’ mek de bwai ah coffee. Don’t use too much coffee bean!”
In the morning, Neville emerged out of his house and found that the yard had been swept by Joseph already, wood had beencollected for the fire and Joseph had located the stream to wash himself in; his hair now looked a rich black texture. Neville, mightily impressed, asked his wife, Melody, to cook Joseph’s breakfast and while smoking his pipe, pondered Joseph’s future. He decided to give him a trial run working on one of his two fields. Joseph dropped to his knees in thanks, his eyes filling with tears.
Neville discovered that Joseph was indeed industrious and knew the ways of tilling and farming. At length he discussed Joseph’s fate with Melody, and one night he said to her, “sometimes de Most High give yuh ah chance to right ah wrong. Mebbe if we do right by Joseph de Most High might finally bless we wid ah son. So long He has cursed my seed.”
After two weeks he decided to take Joseph on permanently; his wages were food, an outside straw bed and a drop of rum to wash down the ackee and salt-fish supper that Neville insisted upon on Friday nights. Amy, Neville’s youngest daughter, was delegated to bring Joseph’s meals to him in the evenings; Jackie was asked initially but she cried off, saying, “de black stranger wid de wolf eyes look like de angel of deat’’’. Joseph never said much upon receiving his dinner, just a “t’ank yuh liccle Amy, ya mos’ kind”. He never did reveal where he hailed from, despite Amy’s mother prompting him and, in the end, she shook her head, muttering under her breath, “hear me Lord, praise is ya very name. It easier to t’read ah long belly goat t’rough de eye of ah needle dan getting dat long bwai Joseph to talk about him past.”
“Amy! Amy. Wha’ happen to yuh? Yuh ketch inna daydream?”
Shaking the memories out of her head, Amy composed herself and looked at her sister, Jackie, who was carrying a long piece of rope in her hands. Jackie was shorter and fatter than her younger sister. Her eyes looked fearsome and her bunched calf muscles well defined from treading miles every day since she could remember. She could also cuss-cuss with the best higglers in the market. She was wearing a simple light blue frock and a white,
“But yuh mus’ ’ave ah strikin’ plot somewhere,” Neville insisted. “How cyan yuh born widout family. If yuh is ah trickster or ah t’ief me gwarn lick yuh wid me piece ah breezeblock ’til de crab louse come outta ya dutty hair!”
Refusing to answer, Joseph continued to stare at the floor. Amy, wrestling free from her mother’s grip, stepped to her father’s side. She took a lingering look at the visitor. He was different from anybody she had ever seen. So dark! So tall! And the eyes! So pitiful. But he looked strong, his shoulders barely fitting within the door frame. Amy compared Joseph’s jawbone to a Blue Mahoe branch that she sometimes sat upon.
Seeing himself as a Godly man, Neville considered that if he offered this young beggar some food and a place to rest his bones for the night, it would only enhance his reputation, especially if he told the aged preacher man about it. Yes, old Mister Forbes would have to talk about this good deed in church, he thought. Maybe if I play my cards right, the good people of Claremont might want me to sermon them when the preacher man passes away and rises to heaven to get his reward. Wise Mister Forbes bones are getting creaky and his crazy son, Isaac, spends him time trying to sway pretty girls to follow him to the bush. “Alright, bwai,” Neville decided. “Yuh know ya name?”
“Joseph,” muttered the stranger, his words aimed to the floor.
“Come in, Joseph. We will give yuh ah liccle supper an’ somewhere to rest ya mosh-up foot…Amy, start up de fire an’ boil some water an’ mek de bwai ah coffee. Don’t use too much coffee bean!”
In the morning, Neville emerged out of his house and found that the yard had been swept by Joseph already, wood had beencollected for the fire and Joseph had located the stream to wash himself in; his hair now looked a rich black texture. Neville, mightily impressed, asked his wife, Melody, to cook Joseph’s breakfast and while smoking his pipe, pondered Joseph’s future. He decided to give him a trial run working on one of his two fields. Joseph dropped to his knees in thanks, his eyes filling with tears.
Neville discovered that Joseph was indeed industrious and knew the ways of tilling and farming. At length he discussed Joseph’s fate with Melody, and one night he said to her, “sometimes de Most High give yuh ah chance to right ah wrong. Mebbe if we do right by Joseph de Most High might finally bless we wid ah son. So long He has cursed my seed.”
After two weeks he decided to take Joseph on permanently; his wages were food, an outside straw bed and a drop of rum to wash down the ackee and salt-fish supper that Neville insisted upon on Friday nights. Amy, Neville’s youngest daughter, was delegated to bring Joseph’s meals to him in the evenings; Jackie was asked initially but she cried off, saying, “de black stranger wid de wolf eyes look like de angel of deat’’’. Joseph never said much upon receiving his dinner, just a “t’ank yuh liccle Amy, ya mos’ kind”. He never did reveal where he hailed from, despite Amy’s mother prompting him and, in the end, she shook her head, muttering under her breath, “hear me Lord, praise is ya very name. It easier to t’read ah long belly goat t’rough de eye of ah needle dan getting dat long bwai Joseph to talk about him past.”
“Amy! Amy. Wha’ happen to yuh? Yuh ketch inna daydream?”
Shaking the memories out of her head, Amy composed herself and looked at her sister, Jackie, who was carrying a long piece of rope in her hands. Jackie was shorter and fatter than her younger sister. Her eyes looked fearsome and her bunched calf muscles well defined from treading miles every day since she could remember. She could also cuss-cuss with the best higglers in the market. She was wearing a simple light blue frock and a white,
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