The Pull Of Freedom (14 page)

Chapter Forty

It rained; it seemed for most of the two years that Asha spent with Nanny. The mountains were constantly shrouded with fog, and there was a certain bite in the air. The crops survived the rains and the surrounding landscape was verdant green.

Asha had a post in the village, she taught the people to count and to spell. She imparted the little that she knew from her days as companion to Mark when he had gotten his lessons. She was quite settled into village life, she liked to go hunting with the young men and to sit and plait hair with the young women, she even went on a raid to a plantation standing by Nanny’s side as she gave orders to her eager men.

She never tired of seeing the joy on the escaped slaves faces when they came to the village. She had come to appreciate the freedom of the maroons and the little eccentricities of Nanny. The people were in awe of her, her superior herbal knowledge was sometimes misconstrued as supernatural, even Asha sometimes was afraid of the intensity in Nanny’s eyes when she spoke about the future or her ‘knowing’.

The day started out like most days, the women were frying plantain and flat cakes; the smell of sizzling eggs in coconut oil filled the air.

Asha loved the intense flavours and spices that the Africans put in their meals and she usually ate well, she had filled out as a young woman. Her mouth watered as she inhaled the fragrance of cooking and she went to join Nanny at her cabin. She was sitting in her doorway having risen early and was meditating, her eyes were closed and her brow furrowed.

She sat beside the silent woman and sniffed the air; it would do her no good to disturb Nanny when she was in meditation mode. Her head was uncovered and sticks of hair jut up untidily from her head.

Quao came and sat beside her, he often joined them for breakfast when his wife would carry the most delicious morsels for them to eat. His wife Adasa loved to cook and so she refused help in her kitchen. She had borne four children for Quao and was a happy wife.

He smiled at Asha and just sat still, it was the African way; Asha had also learnt the art of being still. They were not an overly talkative people, they loved to dance and sing but they could stay hours just staring into space and reflecting. The skill was also necessary when they went on plantation raids they had to stand hours unmoving as they spied on the white men. At times they would pass them unaware that the very maroons they were hunting were nearby.

Suddenly Nanny opened her eyes, they had tears in them and were blood shot. “Listen to me,” she said looking from Asha to Quao urgently, “today is destruction.”

Quao listened in silence; he was not unused to Nanny’s cryptic statements and her spurts of insight after a meditation.

Nanny got up and looked around frantically, “we have to move now.”

“Move from this spot?” Asha asked incredulously, the area was big in the hills, there were close to four hundred maroons living there, most people had their own hut or cabin and vegetable garden.

“Where should we go?” Quao asked fearfully, he had learnt from early not to question his sister.

“You must go to Cudjoe, he might help us,” Nanny said urgently. “We must move now or it will be too late.”

Quao jumped to his feet and so did Asha; there was no mistaking the urgency in Nanny’s voice.

Nanny grabbed Asha and hugged her; the affection was unexpected and puzzling. “Go with God chile,” Nanny whispered to her niece. “Keep up the pace, you will get your hearts desire when you stay at Cudjoe.”

Asha frowned, and was about to speak when Nanny turned to Quao, “get your family now and start walking.”

“But Cudjoe is at the other part of the island,” Quao protested, “that is too far to walk.”

“You will go,” Nanny said, “I will stay here on higher ground. Tell Cudjoe to join forces it is time we fought the white man together. Remind him that freedom is not to be bargained for.”

Quao opened his mouth to protest, and Nanny stooped down, she grabbed her abeng and blew long and hard. The villagers stopped the morning’s activity and hurried toward her hut.

“Abandon what you are doing,” Nanny intoned, “get as much food as you can carry and leave this spot now.”

She started walking away toward the upper area of the mountain, the villagers looked at Quao askance.

“Do what she says,” Quao said resignedly, “we are going to Cudjoe at the other part of the island.”

The villagers who obeyed and hurriedly got their things together and followed Quao numbered around three hundred. Men like Ibo and Adofo went to higher ground with Nanny, refusing to leave her.

At about eight o’ clock that morning when most of the villagers had abandoned their homes, Captain Stoddard determinedly went up the mountain into Nanny Town with his swivel guns and blew their huts to pieces. The villagers who had doubted Nanny or were too slow to act were killed, many of them died in the rushing waters of the Stony River as they jumped to their deaths, some were just caught in the crossfire.

Nanny Town was no more.

Chapter Forty-One

They walked for miles in the day and rested when the sun was hot. They walked in the night and shivered from the elements. It took them weeks to reach Cudjoe’s settlement. They were bedraggled and sore from walking so far, they had robbed plantations for food and had foraged through the woodland. They were battle wary and very tired when they reached Cudjoe’s settlement in the cockpit country.

Cudjoe did not welcome them with open arms; he seemed tired and ill at ease with their suggestion to fight the white men.

“I want peace,” he said, looking shiftily at Quao.

Quao had cornered him as he sat dangling his legs in a stream. Asha was bone weary but she had wanted to see the man that was her father. He was short and hunched over; his coffee coloured skin was shining in the sun. He had a wad of tobacco in his mouth and he chewed and spat.

Quao argued to no avail, finally he got up and left Cudjoe.

Asha surveyed him quietly, he was shorter than she thought but his body exuded princely confidence, his eyes looked wary and sad.

“You look like Martha,” Cudjoe said turning to his daughter.

Asha nodded. “That’s what Mamee tells me.”

“It was a brave thing to walk all this way,” Cudjoe said quietly.

“Nanny said I should,” Asha looked off into the distance, “when we left the village, I could hear the guns blowing up the settlement and people like little dolls. They should pay for it.”

Cudjoe shrugged, “I am tired of the war, we should be free to do what we want, when we want without constantly fighting for it. I am tired of seeing my men lose their lives and I am tired of taking the lives of others.”

“But that’s the way it will be if we are constantly hunted by the white man,” Asha said fiercely.

“You speak like Nanny,” Cudjoe said trailing his hands in the water, “Nanny is a warrior, she would fight to the end to accomplish her vision of the black man ruling this island.”

“It won’t happen. We will just fight for our freedom until we all die.”

“Nanny said blacks will be the majority on this island someday and that they will make decisions. She says that one day all the blacks in the world will be free.”

“She speaks foolishly,” Cudjoe said wearily, “I'm tired of her dreaming and her predictions of future glory, I live in the here and now and I'm just tired of all this running around and hiding.”

Asha got up. “Nanny has never been wrong, I believe her.”

“Are you going back with the others to join Nanny?” Cudjoe asked, a look of vulnerability flashed in his eyes and Asha sat back down, this was her father. The man that had played a role in her existence.

She loved Nanny and had gotten to know her but she wanted to know her father.
You will get your hearts desire when you stay at Cudjoe.
Nanny’s words wafted in her brain. Her hearts desire was to know her father and to see Mark Simmonds. At least she would get one of her heart's desires.

“No,” she answered Cudjoe, “I am staying here with you. I would like to meet Accompong and Jelani, Nanny speaks so much about them and about when you were children.”

Nanny’s maroons went back the day after there arrival at Cudjoe’s with enough supplies to last them the journey back. Quao hugged Asha and looked at his brother balefully.

Cudjoe had asked him to stay but he was sticking to Nanny and her vision of freedom, he would never abandon his sister the way Cudjoe had. They walked the long journey back into the hills—they were strong people they could handle anything.

They found Nanny at a new spot along with the few people that had stayed with her. They set up their village once more and decided to fight the white man even more than before. They were going to punish them for those they killed.

Chapter Forty-Two

“Mark, so lovely to see you,” Bridget grinned at the young man. Mark had arrived minutes before and had stopped to talk with Daniel at the pond.

Mark leaned over to kiss Bridget.

She stared up at him warmly, “since the rebuilding of your plantation you hardly visit.”

Mark grinned, “I try to escape my father on numerous occasions but its all for naught. He insists on my help and company.”

Bridget glanced over to a man sitting on one of her brocade chairs, “Mark meet my new neighbour Sir Floyd Kesington. He bought out the Penwoods.”

Mark went over to Sir Floyd Kesington and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Sir.”

Kes laughed, he had come back to Jamaica because he could not stand the frigidity of England. He was also highly placed in the confidence of the Governor of Jamaica. He had said to the Assembly only yesterday that they should forge peace with the maroons—he was determined to fight like the maroon, that he was, for the interest of his people.

He stared at Mark, he hardly looked like the five year old that he had seen on the veranda of the plantation house all those many years ago, the lad had grown up to be a fine man.

“Your Aunt Bridget and I have a lot in common,” Kes said looking at Mark intently, “I pay my men to work and they do their own trades on my plantation.”

Mark cleared his throat; “my father disagrees with Aunt Bridget on that score.”

Kes grinned, “but I heard that you do not. I heard that you are in love with the slave girl who is the daughter of our major maroon rebel called Cudjoe.”

Mark sighed, “I would do anything to see Asha again.”

“Then you are in luck,” Kes said glancing at Bridget, “the Assembly has voted for one Colonel Guthrie to sign a peace treaty with the maroons. The Assembly is tired of the fighting. Have you noticed that the skirmishes have gotten worse through the years.”

Mark sat up straighter in the chair that he had sunk himself in, “that’s good news for the maroons but what’s the good news for me and Asha, we will never live together as equals in this society.”

Kes shrugged, “if you knew where she was you could find her and discuss that.”

Bridget stood up and poured tea, “here you go Mark, while you mull that over. Kes and I were talking about him paying his slaves.”

“They are not slaves,” Kes said quickly, “they are ordinary workers, they work hard for their days wages. I now have the problem of free men coming to my plantation looking for work when all I wanted to do was liberate the men the rest of the society call slaves.”

“What motivates you?” Mark asked frowning.

“I was a slave,” Kes looked at Bridget and Mark sensing that they would keep his secret, they were both of a liberal mind. “I travelled with Nanny of the Maroons.”

Bridget gasped, “what?”

Kes nodded, “Nanny is a great warrior and I doubt that she will sign this peace treaty but I have to try for her sake. She deserves to rest sometime.”

“But how?” Mark asked interestedly, “how on earth could a white man travel with maroons.”

“I am mulatto,” Kes grinned, “my father was as black as coffee, unfortunately I wasn't born with any of his outward genes.”

Bridget placed her hand over her heart, “that’s utterly interesting.”

“I knew you would like the story,” Kes straightened, “I missed Jamaica so badly when I left here, after I helped the men to raid the Braithwaite plantation, I left for England and found my mother. We set up house and I went around subtly instigating hatred for slavery, especially among the religious groups like the Quakers.”

“My God, the Braithwaites?” Mark eyes almost bugged out of his head, “my mother’s friend is Hilma Braithwaite Stoddard. She is in England a more pompous woman you can never find.”

Kes looked at Mark puzzled, “so Hilma lived then? And married her Captain Stoddard?”

“Yesssss,” Mark said earnestly, “he blew up the village of Nanny of the maroons some months ago, he has been lauded as one of the best soldiers we have.”

Kes, looked frightened, “is Nanny alright?”

Mark shrugged, “I wouldn’t know but I heard that the maroons were walking across the island, all the plantation owners got scared.”

“That’s why the Assembly was quick to follow my suggestion of a peace treaty,” Kes said wonderingly. “Might be I shouldn’t fret about Nanny she is a survivor.”

They all sat in silence for a while digesting the revelations of the moment.

“How do you know that we won’t tell anyone about you?” Bridget asked curiously.

“Because I would have to tell them about you my dear Bridget,” Kes said smiling.

“What about me?” Bridget asked uncomfortably.

“That your slaves here are not really slaves.” Kes said promptly, “I admire you for that, that’s why I made the courtesy call. I would never call on your father though, he glanced at Mark, he is too much of a bigot.”

Mark grimaced, “I grew up with my father but spent most of my time with slave women. I guess you could say that ruined me somewhat, I constantly struggle in this society.”

Kes got up and doffed his hat, “I must take your leave Madam Bridget.”

Bridget stood also, “you are welcome here anytime.”

Kes nodded at Mark, “come to me in four weeks, we can take the trek to Cudjoe’s village together, there you will see if your lady love resides with her father.”

Mark eagerly nodded his head; “I would not miss it for the world.”

“We go with Colonel Guthrie and his men,” Kes said warningly, “so do not let your emotions show.”