One Thousand White Women (15 page)
Read One Thousand White Women Online
Authors: Jim Fergus
There was a long pause here before there came from among us a scattering of “I will’s,” some of them barely more than murmurs, remarkable for their general lack of conviction. I know, too, that a number of our women did not answer the question at all, but left it hanging there in limbo as their final escape …
“And to those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Foreasmuch as these men and women have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by joining hands; I pronounce, that they are Husband and Wife; in the name of the Father, and of the Son; and of the Holy Ghost … Amen.”
And then it was done … A stunned silence fell over our company of women as the full import of this momentous occasion made itself felt. The grooms, seemingly less impressed by their new matrimonial state, faded back into the shadows from whence they came, to rejoin the dancers. Meanwhile we brides came together in small coveys and in some mental disorder, to congratulate one another, or commiserate, whichever the case might be, over our newly wedded state. Some wept, but I do not believe that these were tears of joy. All wondered what was to come now …
“Are we truly married, Father, in the eyes of God?” asked the strange woman, “Black Ada” Ware, of the Reverend. She was dressed still in mourning for her wedding, her black veil in place. “Is it so?”
All gathered about, I think hoping that the large Reverend might relieve our minds by telling us that, no, it had been nothing more than a sham ceremony, we were not truly married to these foreign creatures …
“Have I married a damn
niggah?”
asked Daisy Lovelace who had also declined to be attired by our hosts and who wore, by contrast, a stunning white lace wedding gown which she had brought with her especially for the occasion. Now the woman pulled her silver flask from under her dress and took a long swallow.
niggah?”
asked Daisy Lovelace who had also declined to be attired by our hosts and who wore, by contrast, a stunning white lace wedding gown which she had brought with her especially for the occasion. Now the woman pulled her silver flask from under her dress and took a long swallow.
“That’s certainly a lovely wedding gown, Miss Lovelace,” said Martha, who seemed still to be in a sort of trance.
“It belonged to my dear departed
Motha,”
said the woman. “
Ah
was to wear this gown, myself, when
Ah
married Mr. Wesley Chestnut of Albany, Georgia. But after Daddy lost everything in the
wah,
Mr. Chestnut had a sudden change a heart, if you know what Ah mean.
Motha,”
said the woman. “
Ah
was to wear this gown, myself, when
Ah
married Mr. Wesley Chestnut of Albany, Georgia. But after Daddy lost everything in the
wah,
Mr. Chestnut had a sudden change a heart, if you know what Ah mean.
“If
Motha
and
Daddy
could only see their little baby girl now,” she said, “havin’ entered into holy matrimony with a gentleman with the deeply unfortunate name of
Müstah Bluuddy Fuuuut”
(her husband’s descriptive name, in fact, was gained by the actions of her brave little dog, Fern Louise). “My
Gawd!”
And then the woman began to laugh, and suddenly I felt a new sympathy toward her, I understood fully and for the first time why she had signed up for this program; she had lost her fortune, had been left standing at the altar by a cad, and was quite possibly no longer as young as she claimed. For all her ugly bigotry, I began to like Miss Lovelace infinitely better for the touching fact that she had brought her mother’s wedding gown along with her on this adventure. It proved that for all her apparent cynicism she still held on to hopes, dreams. And I began to laugh with her at the sheer absurdity of our situation, and soon all of us were laughing, looking at each other, some of us made up like demons from hell, married now to barbarians, we laughed until tears ran down our grotesquely painted faces. Yes, surely we had been drugged …
Motha
and
Daddy
could only see their little baby girl now,” she said, “havin’ entered into holy matrimony with a gentleman with the deeply unfortunate name of
Müstah Bluuddy Fuuuut”
(her husband’s descriptive name, in fact, was gained by the actions of her brave little dog, Fern Louise). “My
Gawd!”
And then the woman began to laugh, and suddenly I felt a new sympathy toward her, I understood fully and for the first time why she had signed up for this program; she had lost her fortune, had been left standing at the altar by a cad, and was quite possibly no longer as young as she claimed. For all her ugly bigotry, I began to like Miss Lovelace infinitely better for the touching fact that she had brought her mother’s wedding gown along with her on this adventure. It proved that for all her apparent cynicism she still held on to hopes, dreams. And I began to laugh with her at the sheer absurdity of our situation, and soon all of us were laughing, looking at each other, some of us made up like demons from hell, married now to barbarians, we laughed until tears ran down our grotesquely painted faces. Yes, surely we had been drugged …
After we had spent ourselves laughing and the strange reality of our situation had once again insinuated itself into our befuddled consciousnesses, we wiped our tears and gathered in little coveys, clustered together for protection like confused chickens—indeed, that’s what we most resembled, with our painted faces and our colorfully ornamented dresses.
We were naturally shy to take up the dance, but true to her nature, our brave good Phemie was the first to join in. “I must show them how an Ashanti dances,” she said to us in her sonorous voice. “The way my mother taught me.” For a moment all the Cheyenne dancers paused to watch our bold and unashamed Negress, as she took her place in the dance line. We were very proud of her. She did not dance in the same style as the Indians … in fact she was a superior dancer, her step sinuous and graceful, her long legs flashing beneath her dress, she pranced and whirled to the pulsing beat—but careful to follow the steps to the dance, as specified by a stern Dog Woman—who tolerated no unauthorized variations. A general murmuring of approval ran among the Indians who spectated, and then I believe that the dancing became even freer and more frenzied.
“My, that big
niggah
girl can surely dance,” said Daisy Lovelace. “Daddy, God rest his soul, always did say they had special rhythm.
Enabuddy
care for a little sip a
medicine,
” she asked, holding out her flask.
niggah
girl can surely dance,” said Daisy Lovelace. “Daddy, God rest his soul, always did say they had special rhythm.
Enabuddy
care for a little sip a
medicine,
” she asked, holding out her flask.
“Aye
, I’ll have a wee nip of it,
shoore
,
”
said Meggie Kelly. “Loosens my dancin’ feet, it does.” And she took the flask from Daisy and took a quick pull, making a small grimace and passing it to her sister.
“T’isn’t
Irish whiskey, that’s
sartain,
Susie, but under the circumstances, it’ll’ave to do.”
, I’ll have a wee nip of it,
shoore
,
”
said Meggie Kelly. “Loosens my dancin’ feet, it does.” And she took the flask from Daisy and took a quick pull, making a small grimace and passing it to her sister.
“T’isn’t
Irish whiskey, that’s
sartain,
Susie, but under the circumstances, it’ll’ave to do.”
And then the Kelly sisters themselves melted into the dance—a more fearless pair of twins you could not hope to find; they hiked their skirts up and performed a kind of lively Irish jig to the music. Which made old Dog Woman crazy with anxiety at the impropriety of their steps!
“Oh vat de
hell, I
tink
I may as
vell
join
een,
too!” announced dear homely Gretchen, encouraged by the twins’ boldness. “I
ben
watching, I
tink
I learn
de
steps now.” Gretchen was herself painted up in dark earth tones and wrapped in a rare blond buffalo robe adorned with primitive designs. Indeed, she resembled nothing so much as an enormous buffalo cow. Now she entered the dance line herself, God bless her.
“Yah!”
she called out with her typical gusto,
“Yah!”
and she took up the step with a heavy Slavic polkalike gait, a bovine gracelessness that provided additional humor to the moment. Several of us began to giggle watching her, covering our mouths with our hands, and even some of the native dancers and spectators laughed good-naturedly at her efforts. The savages are not without a sense of humor, and nothing amuses them so much as the sight of someone making a spectacle of herself.
hell, I
tink
I may as
vell
join
een,
too!” announced dear homely Gretchen, encouraged by the twins’ boldness. “I
ben
watching, I
tink
I learn
de
steps now.” Gretchen was herself painted up in dark earth tones and wrapped in a rare blond buffalo robe adorned with primitive designs. Indeed, she resembled nothing so much as an enormous buffalo cow. Now she entered the dance line herself, God bless her.
“Yah!”
she called out with her typical gusto,
“Yah!”
and she took up the step with a heavy Slavic polkalike gait, a bovine gracelessness that provided additional humor to the moment. Several of us began to giggle watching her, covering our mouths with our hands, and even some of the native dancers and spectators laughed good-naturedly at her efforts. The savages are not without a sense of humor, and nothing amuses them so much as the sight of someone making a spectacle of herself.
“Lovely! Spiffing good dance!” said Helen Flight, eyebrows raised in perpetual delight. Helen, who has been given the Indian name, Woman Who Paints Birds, or just Bird Woman, was got up very stylishly to look like a prairie chicken hen with artfully placed feathers about her narrow hips and rump. “Unfortunately I’ve never had the talent, myself,” she said. “That is to say, my dearest companion, Mrs. Ann Hall, would never permit me to dance at balls; she felt that I was always trying to lead the men and that I was ‘conspicuously heavy of foot’—her words exactly, I’m afraid.”
Miss Flight has already proven to be somewhat scandalous to the natives for her habit of smoking a pipe which, like the morning swim, is a savage activity very much reserved for men—and, at that, is one undertaken with much ritual and ceremony. Whereas Helen is liable to fire up her pipe at any time and in any situation—causing the savages even more consternation than when I sit in the tipi with my feet pointing the wrong way! However, because of her considerable artistic skills, which the heathens hold in the very highest esteem, they have chosen to more or less tolerate Helen’s smoking. (A primer on savage etiquette would be most useful to us all.)
Narcissa White came now among us, nearly beside herself with Christian righteousness. Evidently her religious beliefs do not permit dancing. “The recreation of the Devil,” she objected. “His evil trick to inflame the passions and overcome the intellect.”
“Thank
Gawd
for it,” said Daisy Lovelace. “What would we do here with intellect,
Nahcissa?”
Gawd
for it,” said Daisy Lovelace. “What would we do here with intellect,
Nahcissa?”
Nor had Miss White allowed herself to be dressed in native attire; she still wore her high-buttoned shoes and high-collared missionary dress. “How can we possibly hope to Christianize these poor creatures,” she asked, “if we allow ourselves to sink to their level of degeneracy?”
“Narcissa,” I said, gently, “for once why don’t you stop sermonizing and try to enjoy our wedding reception. Look, even the Reverend is participating in the festivities.” It was true that the Reverend had comfortably ensconced himself fireside on a mound of buffalo robes, surrounded by several of the Cheyenne holy men; he was eating as usual, and chatting animatedly with his savage counterparts.
“Quite, May!” said Helen Flight. “We shall have more than sufficient opportunity to instruct the savages in the ways of civilization. At the present time, I say, ‘When in Rome …’ Indeed my conspicuous heaviness of foot, notwithstanding, if you don’t mind very much, ladies, I believe I’ll give it a try. I have studied the grouse on the lek and this is one step I know.” With which Helen, too, entered the dance line. “Oh, dear!” I heard her call with delight as she was swallowed by the native dancers, swept away in their midst under the moon until all I could see of her were her hands waving gaily above her head.
“God help you, people,” whispered Narcissa White in a small voice.
“Gawd, Nahcissa,”
drawled Daisy Lovelace, “Don’t be such a
damn stick in the mud
. This is our weddin’ night, we should all be
celebratin’.
Have a lil’ drink, why
don’t you.”
Daisy held out her flask, and seemed rather drunk herself. “We can repent
tomorah
after we have made passionate
luuuve
to our
niggah Injun
boys tonight,” she continued, “because
Ah
have a
daaahk
suspicion that
tomorah
we shall be most in need of
deevine
forgiveness … . But what the Hell,
Ah
believe
Ah’ll
take a turn on the dance floor
mahself.
I shall pretend that
Ah’
m attendin’ the spring debutante ball at the Mariposa Plantation. It is there that I came out to society and where
Ah
danced away the most glorious night of my life. Wesley Chestnut said
Ah
was the most beautiful girl at the ball … and afterwards he kissed me for the first time out on the
veranda
…” And poor Daisy curtsied and held her arms out, as if joining an invisible partner, and said in a soft dreamy voice, “Thank you,
kind suh, Ah
don’t
maahnd
if I do,” and she began to do a slow waltz to the music, twirling in among the dancers, soon lost in their midst.
drawled Daisy Lovelace, “Don’t be such a
damn stick in the mud
. This is our weddin’ night, we should all be
celebratin’.
Have a lil’ drink, why
don’t you.”
Daisy held out her flask, and seemed rather drunk herself. “We can repent
tomorah
after we have made passionate
luuuve
to our
niggah Injun
boys tonight,” she continued, “because
Ah
have a
daaahk
suspicion that
tomorah
we shall be most in need of
deevine
forgiveness … . But what the Hell,
Ah
believe
Ah’ll
take a turn on the dance floor
mahself.
I shall pretend that
Ah’
m attendin’ the spring debutante ball at the Mariposa Plantation. It is there that I came out to society and where
Ah
danced away the most glorious night of my life. Wesley Chestnut said
Ah
was the most beautiful girl at the ball … and afterwards he kissed me for the first time out on the
veranda
…” And poor Daisy curtsied and held her arms out, as if joining an invisible partner, and said in a soft dreamy voice, “Thank you,
kind suh, Ah
don’t
maahnd
if I do,” and she began to do a slow waltz to the music, twirling in among the dancers, soon lost in their midst.
And so, one by one, each of us, trying to hold on to some precious recollection of our past, even if it was only a familiar dance step—any thin lifeline to keep us from falling completely into the abyss of savagery that was opening beneath us—so we joined, one by one, the dance.
What a sight we must have made whirling madly under the full moon … waltzes and jigs and polkas, a lively cancan from our pretty little French girl, Marie Blanche—for you see it did not matter what step we did, for all steps were the same finally, faster and faster, a frenzy of color, motion and sound, all the dancers now like breeding birds on the lek, plumage puffed and ruffled, the cocks’ chests swelled, the hens’ backsides half-turned teasing the air between them—we danced forward and back, round and round—in the music could be heard the steady booming drumming of the grouse, laid over the pulsing rhythmic heartbeat of the earth, and in the singing could be heard the elements of thunder, wind, and rain … this dance of earth. How the gods watching must have enjoyed their creation.
And the music and singing filled the sultry night air, washed out over the plains on the breeze so that even the animals gathered on the hills around to watch and listen—the coyotes and wolves took up the song, the bears and antelope and elk appeared—their outlines distinct on the moonlit horizon, and the children watched from behind the embers of the fire, spellbound, a bit frightened by the power of madness they beheld, and the old people watched, nodding to one another approvingly.
We danced. We danced. The People watched. The animals watched. The gods watched.
Some of the dancers danced all night, for the music played on until the first light of dawn surprised the setting moon. But most of us were claimed earlier by the families of our new husbands; they surrounded us at some point, quietly and without comment, and we followed, meek as lambs, as they led us back to the lodges.
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