Estella

West Indies 1910 - Post Emancipation

 

A gust of wind blew through the trail of acacia trees flanking the narrow dirt road. It stirred their thorny canopies and swirled through the lattices of slim branches. Tiny dark green leaves shimmied on tendril like stems, while yellowed ones sprinkled to the ground. There they fell upon older leaves already bronzed to a crisp. Together, they created a speckled trail of mulch that ran along the edges of both sides of the path.

            When Estella's bare foot brushed through, it disrupted the leafy trail to her right, unearthing the decay beneath the flat bed. The thick muddy peat squished through her chocolate toes like a smooth paste. It was cool and mushy, but it was the slipperiness of it that had her veering back to the path's unshaded center and foregoing any covering beneath the acacias' shallow canopies.

            She wasn't carrying much: just an empty metal pail; and with her soles calloused from her twenty-one years of going barefoot, her strides were swift and steady over the hard baked surface. Soon the acacia disappeared, and the marl road showed spots of the occasional blade of grass, which gradually increased until the path was nothing but trampled grass. She was in the pasture, and with her destination just being a little further ahead, Estella continued trudging along through the grassland until she arrived at the village pond.

             The place was teeming with activity. She was happy to see that, even though it wasn't surprising, as the pond was where all the villagers came for water. About fifteen yards from her, a familiar group of women were seated on wooden stools beneath the big mango tree that stood only three feet from the water's circular edge. Metal baths were between their thighs, and their torso's bobbed up and down, as they rubbed clothing against their wash boards. Their cornrows were wrapped with madras head ties, and the skirts of their oversized flour bag dresses were stained with blotches of dirty water and mud.

            Their young children ran about playing games in the pasture, staying far from the water's edge. Estella smiled, remembering how it was the same for her and her friends when they were children. She had found it so unfair that, unlike the adults, she couldn't go into the water, but now she understood the dangers for little ones.

            A cow mooed. It was a low sustained note that slid into a blaring mewl toward the end. The sound rose above the shrieks and laughter of the children, drawing Estella's attention to it. Mr. Drew was leading six cattle to the pond. His animals went ahead of him, trekked unto the muddy bank, past the lily pads and lotus flowers circling the pond's circumference, until a little more than their hooves were immersed in water. They bowed their heads, flicked their large tongues out their mouths and lapped the water. One cow raised its tail and a stream of urine sprayed from beneath it. Two others eased their droppings.

            Estella stirred to action. She needed water too. Their hut had been without since morning and what she gathered now, would serve till the next day. Granny was going to use a portion to make bebrage, which pleased Estella as she loved the taste of the pond water when it was sweetened with molasses.

            Already three villagers, Ms. Julie, Taddy and Mazie, were waist deep in the pond. They stood a few feet apart, and, like her, each had metal pails in their hands. Raising her bucket, Estella stepped in. The pungent smell of mud, dung and urine wafted up to her nose. She moved past the shallow edges and kept going, until the water was also to her waist. She didn't forget to greet the others and they, in turn, greeted her, yet they all kept their distance. None dared stir too much, for fear of disturbing the mud below.

            Estella, standing still, peered into the water. She looked past the translucent reflection of her dark chocolate skin against a blue cloud dusted sky. Tadpoles and small fish swam in the dark, mossy, yet clear depths, and it was so tempting that Estella cupped her free hand, scooped up some water, and drank.