"Aldridge, Mary C - The Adinkra Cloth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldridge Mary C)

The Adinkra Cloth
by Mary C. Aldridge

Our mother was dying: grief ate her heart like a witch. On the night of her death, she called me to her side. "Oliasso, oldest of my sons, you have twelve years now, but you are not strong enough to fight your father's brother, and I am too weak to call my own brother to help you. When I am dead, you children will be defenseless. So do what I tell you: take my body into the bush, dig a pit, and wrap me in the adinkra cloth from my marriage chest. Lay a fire in the pit and leave me there for two days. The cloth will not burn; when you open it, you will find my ashes. Then take clay from the riverbed; rub my ashes into the clay, make a bowl and color it red. Wrap it in the adinkra cloth and lay it on my death-fire. In one day, the bowl will be cooked. Roll up the cloth and bring it out and say, 'Our Mother, we are hungry.' Then you will see what happens. Also, keep the adinkra cloth. Keep-" She stopped speaking and closed her eyes. Grief was done with her.

When I had wept, I opened the marriage chest that her twin brother, the Lord Mbanyo, had carved for her many years ago, in the far land of her birth. Inside the chest were things she had brought from her home, which belonged only to her: silver bracelets and rings, brass necklaces, images of strange gods done in bronze. There were three little stone jars whose contents I could not guess. At the bottom of the chest, neatly rolled, was the adinkra cloth. It was blue cotton, patterned with black spirit signs. I removed it, brought it to the bed, and carefully wrapped it around our mother. I woke my little brothers. The four of us bent our backs to lift her. Even though we were but four children, our mother's body was light in our arms, as if the adinkra cloth were filled with gentle thoughts. We carried her out of the house. It was the dry season, and a full moon shone on the still compound that once had been our father's. Now his younger brother claimed all the goods and people in the compound. Most of all he coveted our mother for the magic he believed she had; but he would never have her now. We crept in silence out the compound gate and made our way down the village street. The night was as hushed as if the moon had poured out a sleeping potion over animals and people. Chami, the youngest of us, was afraid to go into the bush. He was only four years old. I told him, "You must come, our mother asked this. Don't you think her spirit is here, watching you?" He dried his tears and came with us. The woods whispered as the dead who could not rest came to see what we were doing. We couldn't see them, but I felt their presence. I said, "Forgive us, dead people, for entering your home. I have a task to do for my mother." The dead withdrew respectfully. It was not so bad after that. Ilomi, who was ten, carried a spade, and so did Kiwaso, who was seven. We dug the pit, not very deep, and I laid the fire in it. When the fire died, we lifted our mother's body in the adinkra cloth; again it was very light. We placed her on the coals. Chami and Kiwaso began to cry. Ilomi and I comforted them; then we went home. For two days, we left our mother in the pit. It was only the next morning after we put her there when Uncle came to the house. I stopped him in the yard. I bowed. "Our mother is no Better; she can't see you." Our uncle was a tall, strong man. When he was angry, he looked fierce. "Tell her she must see me. I am her husband now. Tell her."

I went into the house and came out again. "Our mother has blood. She says you must go away."

Uncle looked disgusted. He hated such things and sent his own wives away when their bleeding came. "Tell her I will be back. I will be back as her husband."

When the two days were over, we went by night to the bush. We opened the cloth. It was not burnt. Inside were white ashes. I closed the cloth, and we went to the river, waded into the cool water, and dug clay. I sat on the bank and sprinkled the ashes into the clay, then worked the clay into a bowl.

Chami, squatting beside me, asked, "Why are you putting Mama in a bowl?"

"Shh," said Ilomi.

I painted the bowl red with seed dyes and wrapped it in the adinkra cloth. We went back into the bush and placed the bowl in the death-fire, which was still glowing.

The next day, my father's first wife came to our house. She was one of the brides his father had chosen. She was brown, like all my father's people. Only our mother was black. She said, "Tell my sister I have come. She must not continue to refuse our husband's brother. She is no better than the rest of us. I will speak with her."

I went in and came out. "My mother says she dreamed last night of a jar that would not open." The first wife retreated a step, for she was pregnant with our father's last child. I hardly had to say, "Mother does not dare speak with you until the dream's influence is gone," for our father's first wife was already hurrying down the path to her own house.

I went inside. The little ones were eating my meal-cakes, which had big dry lumps of raw meal in them. The other wives hadn't asked us to share with them after our father died and our mother became sick.

Ilomi said, "Oliasso, what will they do when they know our mother is dead?"

"And not here," added Kiwaso, putting down his cake. He gave it a sorrowful look.

I knew pretty well what Uncle would do, but I shrugged as if it didn't matter. I sat down and took a cake. It was heavier than the ones our mother made. Only Chami was still eating, spreading his cakes with honey. I bit into the cake. Its crust was hard as coconut rind. "Maybe," Kiwaso said, looking at his feet, "maybe Uncle will send a leopard after you." Ilomi and I hissed together, "Never say that!" and Kiwaso looked frightened. Everyone except Chami stopped eating altogether. We knew who the leopard was, who had killed our father. That night, we left the village again and went to get the bowl. The night was inky, with clouds covering the sky. I felt spirits wandering unhappily and wished the other three boys could stay home. Surely something was going to happen. But mother would have expected us to do it together. I only wished the night felt less evil. The bush spirits were whispering excitedly among themselves as we came to our mother's death-fire. Something brushed wetly against my cheek, and I jumped. It was only a leaf. By the death-fire's glow, we unwrapped the adinkra cloth. The bowl was firm, and though it had been on the fire, it was cool enough to touch. I gave it to Ilomi to hold while I rolled up the adinkra cloth. "I want to hold Mama," said Chami. "You'll drop it," Ilomi said. "No, I won't. Oliasso, please?"

"Yes, let him hold the bowl." I stuffed the adinkra cloth down my tunic and knotted my waist belt so it wouldn't fall. Chami giggled, dropped the bowl down his front, and tied his belt too. He looked pregnant. "Stop playing," Ilomi scolded. Kiwaso said softly, "Oh, Oliasso, look!" He pointed. Off through the trees, something was moving. Something black as the night around us. It came toward us, slinking through the brush; two green eyes pointed our way. "A leopard!" The same fearful thought held all of us rooted to the ground. The leopard came into the clearing where the death-fire was. It was a big leopard, not spotted, but black from the tips of its ears to the tip of its tail. We could not move from fright. It circled us once, and I thought I felt its hot breath. Its green eyes glittered. It looked from me to Ilomi, from Ilomi to Kiwaso to Chami. Its tail switched. It began to stalk Chami, whose legs bent from fright. He sank to his knees and covered his face as the leopard came closer.

The leopard stopped. It gave a puzzled yowl and backed away.

Ilomi and I ran to Chami. I picked him up. The bowl in his tunic bumped against my chest. The leopard started to approach us again, then backed away very quickly and whimpered.

Ilomi grabbed Kiwaso's hand. We ran out of the clearing, back through the brush, all the way to the village and never looked back.

When we got home, I hid the cloth and bowl at the bottom of Mother's marriage chest, for my uncle had no claim on that.

Uncle came to us in the morning. He stormed up to the house, shoving me aside so I fell. I got up and followed him in as my three brothers quietly slipped out.

"Where is your mother?" he demanded, looking bigger than ever in our little house.

"Dead."

"Dead!" He seized the front of my tunic. A wild green light came into his eyes. "Where is her body?"

"I burned it in the bush!"