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Authors: Walter Mosley

47 (13 page)

BOOK: 47
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"My people know a great deal about herbs and heal
ing," he said. "We've been curing disease for longer than
even we can remember."

"That's the lies he tole Mastuh," Chocolate said. "Now
we have to smell his field stink all over our house."

11
.

I heard all the words but I didn't really care about any
thing but the insinuation that Miss Eloise was sick.

Back then in my
s/avemind,
as John called it, I thought that Eloise was the closest thing you could come to an angel here on Earth. She was to me the most beautiful girl in
all the world. I loved her in my heart as Brother Bob told us
we had to love the Lord. Every night when I remembered to say my prayers I asked Him to keep her safe. I felt that
if anything happened to Miss Eloise that I would die too.

Eloise was a beautiful child, that's for sure. And I learned
later that she was a good person too. But now I realize that I loved her whiteness when I was still a slave because that whiteness meant freedom, and freedom was what I wanted
more than anything in the world
even though I didn't
know it.

As soon as John and I were away from the back door of the
mansion I asked him, "Did you see Miss Eloise?"

He didn't answer me right off. Instead he walked with me in silence until we got to a fence behind the chicken coop. We climbed up and over the few rungs and went
maybe a dozen paces into the bushes. There, behind a big
bramble bush, was a downed cottonwood tree that made
a perfect seat for someone who needed to take a load off
without being seen. I had never known about that resting
place and I wondered how John knew to walk right to it.
But I was too upset about Miss Eloise to question him
about it.

"Did you see her?" I asked again.

John sat back on the cottonwood trunk and pulled his
knee up to his skinny chest.

"Yes, I did," he said after a moment's thought. "Tobias
asked me if I knew anything about healing. He said that Andrew Pike said that his wife thought that the runaway
slave was a healer. I told him that I wasn't Pike's runaway,
even though I am, and he said that I didn't have to worry
about Pike, that Pike owed him two slaves and so that I
was safe with him. All he cared about was if I was a healer."

"And what did you say?" I said, trying to move the story
along.

"I told him that my people knew about healing."

"And so? Did you see Miss Eloise?" I asked for the
third time.

"Yes. Tobias brought me to her. Her room is filled with
sunlight. It was brightly painted and the windows were
open. But she had bad color and was sleeping badly. She
had fever."

"What's wrong with her?" I cried.

"I was only allowed to take her pulse," John said. "But
I'm pretty sure that she has a blood infection. It seems to
have gone to her brain."

"Naw it ain't," I cried, putting my hands to my head. "I just saw her last week swinging on the swing in the garden
with her girlfriends."

"She was probably already sick but it was only since
then that the infection entered her brain."

"Don't say that!" I yelled. I didn't want to hear something that might cause the beautiful Miss Eloise to die.

"We have to go looking for herbs," John said, not seem
ing to be very concerned. "Tobias gave us permission to
wander around the woods here gathering the medicines
they think we'll need to save her life."

With that John got up and strode off into the woods. I
followed him, somehow realizing that these were the first
steps to an education that would take me I knew not where.

12

As soon as we were off the path John took me by the wrist
and again we ran on the wind
over boulders and through
thick bushes, past trees that were ancient giants looming
over dark forest undergrowth.

At one point we came to a field of wild strawberries.
John stopped there and took off his new/old work shirt to gather the berries for our lunch. It was then that I remem
bered the molasses cookies Flore pinned to my shirt. We sat
down on the grass and ate for a while. I was worried about
Eloise but I was hungry too. Ever since I had been working in the fields I was hungry all the time, nearly starving.
I wanted to help Eloise but I couldn't turn down a meal.

John told me that the forest we were in was very old and filled with spices and fungi that were wonderful for the hu
man anatomy.

"What do gnats got to do wit' men?" I asked, trying to
put together the strange sounds he uttered.

"Not
gnat man"
he said. "Human anatomy. That is the
study of the parts of the human body."

"Who told you
about gnat man meV

Tall John smiled and put a hand on my shoulder.

"I am not what I appear to be," he said. "I come from
far, far away as I have already told you. This body of mine,
though completely human, was created by what my people
call science. Because of this I have a great deal of knowl
edge about the human body. I know all of the mechanics
it is only the human heart that I fail to understand."

"And do you know what mushrooms will get the bugs outta Miss Eloise's brain?" I asked, unconcerned with his
silly notions.

"Yes," he said. "There are a few herbs that will assist
her healing. And also you need proper rest and nutrition af
ter that infection in your hand and the burn on your shoulder. You need sustenance."

"I don' care about me," I said. "I just wanna make sure
that Miss Eloise gets bettah. An' you shouldn't lie to the
Master
"

John held up a finger and I knew that he wanted me to
remember his admonition.

"It don't mattah if you call'im Master or Tobias," I con
tinued. "If he figures out that you jes' wanna run around an' eat strawberries he'll put you in the killin' shack and
that will be all she spoke about you."

John smiled and said, "You love that little child Eloise
don't you, Forty-seven?"

"She's like the angels that Brother Bob talks on and on
about at his sermons."

"She's just a person."

"No," I complained. "She's the most beautiful girl in
the world."

"Eighty-four is just as beautiful in her own way," my
new friend argued.

"How can you say somethin' like that, boy?" I said.
"Eighty-four's black and ugly with nappy hair and liver
lips. She couldn't even hold a candle to Miss Eloise."

"Come with me," Tall John said.

He jumped up from where we were and led me a short
way down an animal path to a wide, still pond.

"Look," he said. "Look at yourself in the water."

The water was absolutely motionless and reflective
like a polished mirror. I could see my whole image from head to toe.

"Take off that shirt, Forty-seven."

I did as he told me, standing naked at the pond's edge.

When I looked down into the reflective pool I could see
that my skin was very dark and that my body was like a
man's but smaller. My hair was wild and every which way,
but I looked like I imagined myself.

"You have a perfect face and body and the strength to
run all day without aches and pains," John said. "You have
big, inquisitive eyes and a heart that's open to the pain of
others. You love Eloise and so she is beautiful to you, but
Eighty-four needs your love too. And if you gave it to her
you would see her beauty even as you see it in the white
child."

"But beauty just is," I said. "I can't make somethin'
lovely jes' by savin' so."

John waved his hand and my image in the pond changed
into Big Mama Flore. She was just sitting there shelling
peas and throwing them into a basket. My heart opened up
when I saw Flore.

"Is she beautiful?" John asked.

"Oh, yes," I cried. "She's the most beautiful thing in all

the world."

"She has black skin and nappy hair," John argued. "She

has big lips and ashy elbows."

I turned away from the image in the water and asked,
"Are you a angel?"

"No, Forty-seven. I'm just a helper."

"What you helpin'?"

"I'm helping you to save the universe."

"But I'm just a nig
" I stopped myself in the middle
of the prohibited word.

"All of my people," John said, "my whole race says a
prayer for you every night. They have given you their
blessings and their hope. A black-skinned, nappy-headed
child who was born into slavery and who shall ride into the
greatest battle in the history of the world."

When Tall John from beyond Africa spoke I almost be
lieved what he said. There was so much confidence in his
tone that you were compelled to believe him.

I took a deep breath and felt the weight of his words on
my shoulders. I didn't even know where Universe was, or
how big it was. I figured that it must have been at least as
big as Georgia, and Georgia, I knew, was so big that it
would take a strong man three weeks to walk from one end
to the other.

"Boy, what you yammerin' about?" I asked. "I'm just a
nigger, born a slave."

"No," John said. "You are Forty-seven. You are the hope
of your world and mine
and all that lies between."

"You is crazy, boy."

Instead of answering John laughed and pushed me into
the pond. The shock of the cold water and of peaceful
John pushing me made me laugh so hard that I couldn't
climb out again. But then John held out his hand and made
like he was going to help me. But the minute I pulled
against him he pushed me in again. He stood there at the
water line laughing at me.

"Help me out, fool," I said.

And when he stuck out his hand I grabbed on and let
my weight go, pulling him in with me. He started sputtering and trying to jump out of the pond. But every time he
got his footing I pushed him back again. We were laughing
so hard that finally we climbed up to the shore and fell
down in the mud.

That was one of the happiest moments I've had in the
nearly two hundred years of my long life here on Earth. Before that day I never knew what it was to laugh without
worrying that somebody might hear and come and thump

my head. I never knew what it was like to lie there next to your best friend in the whole world and not have a care.

I had eaten strawberries and cookies and went splash
ing in a forbidden pond.

It was forbidden because all things that were fun or
free were forbidden to slaves. I didn't know exactly who
owned those strawberries but one thing for sure
it was a
white man.

But none of that mattered because there I was, alone
in the woods with the most wonderful person I had ever known. When he looked at me he liked my black skin and dusty hair, he thought that I was a hero and who was I to
say no?

BOOK: 47
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