John Crow's Devil (16 page)
A man wore forgiveness in a way unlike shame, even though both possessed a similar lowness. But in that lowness was no despondency or self-hate, only submission and release. Bligh was beyond pride and self. The Lord had killed him. He was reborn for the second time, for one purpose. He would take nothing for the journey but the knowledge that he would never be left nor forsaken. Fear of the Lord was the beginning of wisdom, but humility before the Lord was evidence of it. The Rum Preacher would be ready. But not today.
Lucinda rushed back to her house, hushing herself and wrapping the bandages tighter. The iodine had not stopped burning. The night before, a million screams imploded in her mouth. She had shut her lips tight, lest they escaped while the whip sliced across her back. Someone was making her young too. In the past, she could explain it as a consequence of her unclean days. But now there was an everlasting heat that she could not whip out. So she whipped harder. Lucinda was a simple woman who concluded simply. But here was something that seemed monstrous. Something so beyond herself. More than once she had come close to letting her fingers have their way again; all ten digits finding points of pleasure in the fleshy folds of her dark vagina. She could smell in herself the rawness of fish. It disgusted her, yet brought fuel to her heat. She was a simple woman who concluded simply. If one spoonful did not cure, then two would do. If ten lashes could not cure, the solution was twenty. She whipped harder. By her stripes she would be healed. Lucinda stuffed her mouth with sponge and showered her back with iodine to let the wounds scream. God was not pleased, but he would be. Of her sacrifice, she was sure of it. Lucinda was to be the bride of Christ but her ring finger got lost in a thatch of pubic hair. It was that damn Apostle. Him and those bold red books and the bold red tip of his circumcision.
When she awoke the next day, her fever had left its damage. The bed was soaked with sweat, iodine, and blood. She wrapped herself in more bandages, so many more that the normally poised woman now seemed to develop a hunchback.
The Apostle cracked his knuckles on the podium and addressed the congregation directly. He declared that there were demons in the church and threw himself into a fit of tongues. He declared that there was a spirit of witchcraft in the village that had to be broken for the children’s sake. He commanded the spirits gone in the name of the Father. Cows were God’s creatures, as bright and beautiful as everything else He made. The Apostle reclaimed the cow in the name of the Father. The congregation whooped and hollered. Then he called to the altar all those with a burden on their hearts.
A few came up and the Apostle laid hands. He commanded one woman to let go of bitterness and slaughter the spirit of hate that had been killing her from the inside. He commanded her to take her virginity back in the name of the Father. She lifted her dress and the Apostle touched it, shouting to the congregation that he felt her hymen grow back. She writhed, shook, and screamed as soon as his hand touched her forehead. Then she fell to the floor, almost missing the hands of one of The Five who was there to catch her fall. She screamed again, more than her throat could bear, and began to cough.
“I command you to come out of her in the name of the Father!” he shouted. “Spirit of witchcraft, I command you to come out of her in the name of the Father! Spirit of whoredom begone!” The woman bucked and bellowed as if her belly had begun to split open. Foam came to her mouth. Her eyes were lost inside her skull. At the same time another woman began running from one end of the altar to the other and back, screaming, “Come out o me! Come out o me!”
The Apostle pointed two fingers and The Five went after her. He laid hands and she too fell bawling and screaming. The church was in uproar, but the organist kept playing and the choir kept singing. The ladies of the front row leapt to their feet and interceded in tongues. Others followed, rising with their arms spread wide and eyes shut tight. And yet there were others, disturbed and frightened, who did nothing but watch. By the end of the service, eight, all women, were delivered from evil spirits.
The noise was such that even Pastor Bligh listened from his window. He threw himself into a fit of praying too, but for a different purpose.
The Apostle declared that the curse upon the cows had been lifted, and from now on there would be no obeah cows. No more guzum. But, he added, these things were only the fruits and branches; the whole root had to be dug up. The obeah man. The Devil man. The fornicator with the whore of Babylon. The Antichrist—oh yes! Men could be witches too! Look at poor Clarence, who was so caught up in the Devil’s schemes that he corrupted a married woman in the process. Since the Devil and his children did their nefarious deeds at night, at night they would wait, and at night they would cut it out!
Some feared and some hoped that just this once, night would renege on its promise to come. But come night did, draping her dew-wet, cricket-chirping canopy over Gibbeah. The torches were lit and the people were ready. Tonight they would go into the Devil’s camp and take back what he stole. By the blood of the Father.
Massa Fergie feared for his cows. He was late. Night caught up with the herd on the road and he beat them hard, terrified that he might meet the Devil there. Or Rolling Calf. Maybe somebody should have told the cows that they had reason to fear. They trotted along with easy procession despite the whip, doing as they always did when it got too dark to see grass. By the time they arrived at the bullpen, all had come home save one. He ran back into the darkness after the cow.
It took the Apostle’s holy thunder and a couple verses from the Book of Daniel to mix the crowd’s fear and rage into a mob. They moved as one beast. From above they looked like a dragon who spat fire. Tonight, tonight was when the Devil would be defeated. The Apostle began the procession, raising praising songs along the way. Midway he fell back and let the crowd, now on their own mad momentum, pass him. The Rum Preacher watched as they marched past his window.
The cow had trapped her horn in a fence that separated pasture from river. Massa Fergie pried the horn loose, but the cow refused to move. The man cussed and pushed. He bracketed the cow’s backside with his hands and pushed with his feet. The cow moved, but only slightly. Massa Fergie pushed again, but dew had made the cow’s hide slippery. He slipped and grabbed the cow’s tail to break his fall.
“See him deh!”
“Me did tell you say it was him.”
I went back into the enemy’s camp
“Watch the man a do nastiness with the cow!”
And took back what he stole from me
“Obeah!”
“Nasty man! Watch how him was feeling up the cow! You see him? You see him?”
“Nastiness!”
I said I took back what he stole from me
“Lawd, him a work guzum pon the cow!”
He’s under my feet, he’s under my feet
Massa Fergie fled but was run down. A circle of flames surrounded him with hisses, shouts, and curses. The fires created shadows and he could see no faces. These were the demons from Hell that had come for the cow.
He’s under my feet, he’s under my feet.
From the fire and black came a stick that struck him in the face. He fell, horrified, as the mass of fire and darkness jumped him.
He’s under my feet, he’s under my feet.
The mass hollered and screamed and stomped and shouted and spat.
He’s under my feet, he’s under my feet.
He did not feel his left leg break nor his ribs crack one after the other, nor his nose crush, nor his temple echoing the force of several blows; the strike to the back of his head drowned the others out.
He’s under my feet, he’s under my feet.
The crowd hit, stomped, and burnt.
He’s under my feet, he’s under my feet.
Massa Fergie screamed twice, then no more. But when one of the mob released his hand and it fell to the ground, the thud had the shock of thunder. They pulled back. The mob broke apart into individuals separated by what they had done. While rage could be communal, guilt was always personal. The people ran away with their torches. From above it looked like a clump of fire had exploded into tiny, scattering embers. The Apostle stepped over the body and went his way. Massa Fergie lay in the dirt, his skull crushed and ribs bashed in as if trampled by a bull.
T
hank you, Choir. Church, you may be seated.”
“Ahh. Uhum.”
“Hmph.”
“My God.”
“My good God.”
“Church, I used to think I was a man of many words, but you people, you’ve … you’ve … I’m at a loss. It’s a good thing that the Lord our God is an understanding God. A merciful God. It’s a good thing that He looks beyond that face and sees all hearts, because if God were like me He would think that the Devil took charge of praise and worship. This couldn’t be a full gospel church. I see more praise going on at a funeral! At a Catholic church!
“But God. It’s a good thing the Lord knows your burden. Church, I too know your burden because I am God’s voice. Your heart is heavy; the lowest of the low, I know, my heart is heavy too. I was there on Thursday too, you know. I was there when the Lord spoke His justice.
“We’re afraid.
“We’re upset.
“We’re distraught. Even more of us are confused and just about everybody is ashamed. Be truthful before the Lord, you, we are all ashamed. I know what you’re thinking. Thou shalt not kill, I know. That night is playing over and over in your head like that Devil music they keep sending over from foreign. But, beloved, I’m only going to say this once.
“WAKE UP! What do you think this is? Pin the tail on the donkey, church? This is war!
“High time some of you in here get off your blessed assurance. God didn’t come here to heal the sick, He came with a sword! We’re tearing down the kingdom of Satan! We launching D-Day on the shores of Hell. We’re going into the enemy’s and taking back what he stole. Oh Abba babba a maka desh—I wish I had a God-fearing church. The Devil is not your boyfriend. Satan is not some naked red boy with a tail and a pitchfork! The Bible says he comes to steal, kill, and destroy! Is either him or us! So what’s it going to be, Gibbeah, him or us? The Devil or the saved? But the Lord says, thou shalt not kill.
“Well, church, what if I tell you that was no man that you killed? You believe me when I talk to you, Lucinda? Listen to me. God made man in His own image, but He made the Devil in His own image too. And His demons. You babes in Christ, don’t you see what’s happening? I know what the problem is, your hearts are too hard! If your hearts weren’t so hard, God wouldn’t have to put so much pressure on you. Don’t you see? Church?
“God is opening your eyes, so that you see sin the way He sees it. What does Leviticus Twenty, verse fifteen say? I read,
And if a man lies with a beast he shall SURELY be put to death.
And after cows, my brother and sisters, what’s next, boys? Is that where you want that pervert’s penis to end up?
“Turn with me to Exodus, Chapter Thirty-two, and verses twenty-six to twenty-nine:
Then Moses stood in the gate of the camp, and said, Who is on the Lord’s side, let him come unto me. And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves together unto him.
And he saith unto them, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Put every man his sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay every man and his brother, and every man his companion, and every man and his neighbor.
And the children of Levi did according to the word of Moses, and there fell of the people that day about three thousand men.
“Follow me. What did Moses do to the Israelites who were worshipping the Golden Calf? He butchered every single one. Three thousand. And yet look at us, crying over one. God is God. And He will kill your own mother if she is serving the kingdom of darkness. Had the Israelites refused to obey the Lord, do you think they would have made it to the promised land? And if you don’t kill the sin that so easily entangles, how will you ever come into the true promise of God?
“Christianity is not a romping business. Men of God, this is war! And the Devil don’t fight fair. Look at what that Massa Fergie was doing. Cut it out! Cut it out! Cut it out! If people come here with the smell of Satan, send them right back out. Anything that is of the Devil needs to be driven right back to Hell.
“And the quickest way to send something back to Hell is to kill it.”
The Apostle saw him first. The second he passed Mrs. Fracas, the Rum Preacher sparked a disquiet in her that took over the church. The congregation was silent, but standing. Bligh was in his white suit, all clean and sparkling except for the right shoulder that bore the weight of a filthy burlap sack. The Five came from five directions on the Apostle’s orders, but to the shock of all, Bligh raised his hand high and pointed two fingers. All five stopped. Bligh marched slowly to the altar and stopped directly in front of Apostle York.
“You’re like a boil on my arse, Bligh. I squeeze you out, you grow back. I drive you away, you keep coming back. Maybe I should just whip you? You think I should? Maybe I should—”
