This is an excerpt from my upcoming novel, in this section Willa now a grown young woman talks about one of her heart wrenching childhood experience.
At first he seemed like all the other men in church. I didn't especially notice him; I didn't notice him until I noticed him noticing me. He
was light skinned, with freckles on his face and hands. He had curly black
hair, was medium built and had a little belly coming, he always joked that it
was from his wife’s lovely cooking and from all the puddings the old ladies
brought to church. Each time he patted his belly and said this everyone laughed
as if it was the first time they were hearing this. His eyes were small and
green coloured I guess he got that from his mama. He had, had a white mother
and black father, his mother had died when he was younger and his father had
brought him to Jamaica where he grew up. Everyone liked him, probably more than
they liked me.
He looked at me differently, differently from everyone else;
he continuously smiled at me with that look in his eyes; a look my ten year old
mind could not read or fully understand, but something in the back of my mind
told me to fear it. To fear him and his smiles and keep as far away from him as
possible, the problem was that I could not escape him; the church was too small
there were not enough people in it for me to avoid him. I read a lot, I was
bright, I was the star pupil; picked to be groomed, to become someone great in
religion, maybe I would be the next Ellen. G. white and he the old man with the
pretty eyes and smiley face was one of my groomers. He sometimes taught Bible
class which meant I had to interact with him; I had to sit, listen, ask
questions and learn whatever I could from him.
The people
in church looked up to him, he was such a great leader, always ready to impart
knowledge and give advice. To lend a helping hand to the fallen and weak and to
top it off he had such a cheerful countenance. He had such a lovely wife and a
beautiful daughter even if she was a little slow witted she was still lovely.
In their eyes he could do no wrong.
The way he looked at me made me began to dislike him. I did
not want to go to his class, to have him smile down at me through his moustache
as if he wanted me for his nearest and dearest friend. He always seem to
compliment me when he had an audience; saying how bright I was and what a great
scholar I was going to be, chucking his hand under my chin and raising my head
up so he could smile in my face so that I had no choice but to smile too and
tell him a gracious thank you. After which everyone else smiled too, my mother
should feel proud; Mr Lincoln had shown me favor and prophesied that I would be
great. For some reason I never felt lucky, my heart, my mind and my soul wish
he had chosen someone else to bestow his goodness upon.
He watched me and he
waited, I guess he waited to see if he had chosen the right person. He began to
say and do different things, he began to compliment me more in private; telling
me I was pretty, I was going to be very beautiful and make some lucky man a lovely wife one day. He would rub my head
and massage my hair, putting his nose in it , saying it smelled lovely and for
a little black girl I had such lovely hair, I reminded him of his mama. During
these times I would stand still not knowing what to do, how do you respond when
a half white older man who was old enough to be your father runs his hands
through your hair buries his nose in it and told you, you were pretty while
smiling in your face? The numerous books
I read never told me this, none of my heroines ever experienced this, and so I
would just stand there saying nothing, hoping someone would come.
The day came when he
came into church proclaiming God had given him a vision; he had been told that
because I was so bright, the devil was after my soul and God had told him to
bring me into a room anoint me with oil and pray for my soul. My mother had
been sick that morning and been unable to attend church so she had sent us , it
seemed I was the only one who thought it strange that God had given him a
vision the one day my mother did not attend church. The congregation all agreed
that services should continue while he anointed my body and pray for me. The devil was so strong and rampant in these
days they did not want him taking one of their young precious souls.
He brought me to the back of the church where
there was a partition where the food was kept for lunch each Sabbath it was not
very large but it had room to walk and store the bags of food. He had already
announced we were not to be disturbed; he got the olive oil, closed his eyes
and began to rub my head while beseeching the Heavenly Father to keep me in
church and safe from the clutches of the devil.
I remember the smell of the oil as he rubbed my face, it made me feel
nauseous as if I wanted to throw up the fried egg and plantains mommy had given
me for breakfast that morning. I had
dared not move, my heart had raced not knowing what to expect, he had told me
to close my eyes while he massaged my neck, he spun me around so my back was
towards him then he unzipped my pink polka dot dress but he did not pull the
bands that were tied from the front and made a bow at the back, therefore the
dress fell to my waist. He began to rub my back and I began to tremble, my body
shaking as he moved down to my waist, he spun me around whispering in my ear
that I should not be afraid he was not
going to hurt me and I should like it. He had started from my navel and had
slowly moved his hands up towards my nipples, at the time I did not have
breast. Petal used to joke that I had the flattest chest in school she on the
other hand had begun to wear bra but nipples were what I had.
Mr Lincoln rubbed my nipples and I
heard him moan I trembled, I shook, my heart raced, I opened my eyes and saw
that his were closed. I saw a look on his face I would never forget a look I
later learnt in life was a look of pure and extreme ecstasy. One of his hands
was in his pants and I noticed it was moving. Fear and scorn washed over me,
the fear gripped me so I could not move, I did not know how to react and I
scorned myself for being a coward for I knew what he was doing was wrong but I
did not know what to do. Who would believe me if I told them of this? No one
would. Mr Lincoln was loved and they would take me for a liar maybe even say
the Devil was taking over my soul, my mother would be embarrassed because she
would have a lying conniving girl for her daughter, so I closed my eyes and
prayed, I prayed someone would walk through the curtains or hear him moaning but
nobody came and I had to wait until he had satisfied himself and zipped up my
dress. He told me I could open my eyes, smiled at me and told me I had made him
very happy and if I let him do this from time to time he would buy me a brand
new Bible for he knew my mother couldn't afford it.
I held my head down and walked back
into services my face and hair all shiny and smelling of the horrible oil, I
could still feel the touch of his hands on my skin; I felt dirtier than when it had not rained
for a long time, the river had dried and there was no water to bathe. From that
day I hated church and I decided I hated all men too especially if they smiled
a lot. It was years later that I found out that Mr Lincoln’s wife, his daughter
who had learnt the hard way and about a quarter of the congregation knew he was
not the man he pretended to be yet they had sent me to him like a lamb to be
slaughtered for sacrifice.
copyright by Aneisha Smith: July 19 2013
