Block I
GRIOT
The music. The children were playing. Fanfare. People were dancing. Food. Drinks were pouring. Laughter. It was a wedding reception. Everyone was decked out in their Sunday best, celebrating the union of Francis and Beulah Joseph. It was 1937.
And in walks this beauty. No one knew who she was. She was tall, slender, curves in all the right places. She wore a beautiful lily white, broad-brimmed hat that sat effortlessly on her long, black, curly hair that bounced up and down, down and up as she walked. Her bright, red, long, mermaid dress covered what would seem to be cute petite feet. It was almost like she was walking on air. Her brown, mysterious eyes said, "Hello."
It instantly seemed like the music got louder because of her presence. There was more happening on the dance floor. The children spun around in circles, circles, circles, more circles. The portions of food grew on plates. The laughter got louder, and the drinks kept on being poured.
The men grinned like children waiting on their ice cream cone from the ice cream man. The women turned up their noses and pulled their husbands away. Still, she danced with whomever asked her to. It was one of the best receptions the village ever had.
Then came time for the speeches and while friends, family members and well-wishers said their congratulations, a little girl, who was very mischievous and would not keep still, not even if you paid her, ran up and down, skipped and hopped, did everything she was told not to do. Then she began to crawl under each table looking at the grown-ups’ feet and giggling to herself at their toes.
Then she got to the mysterious woman. Her dress covered her feet. So, the little girl decided to be very quiet and very careful as she lifted the mysterious lady's dress, slowly, slowly, slowly.... What was that?
On her left foot, she wore a dainty, red, high-heeled shoe, but the right, it looked like a hoof…a cow’s hoof. Why did she have two different shoes on her feet? The little girl inspected the shoe, even going as far as to touch it, only to realise that that was not a shoe. It was the mysterious woman's foot… her actual foot. She literally had one hoof and one foot.
The little girl opened her mouth to say something, but the lady, who knew that she was there, looked at her under the table with eyes that said, "Keep your mouth shut," and her eyes were no longer pretty. The eyes she showed her signalled death.
The little girl realised that the woman was a djablès. She opened her mouth to warn everyone, but the djablès kicked her in her mouth with its hoof. Soft enough to not raise an alarm but hard enough for the little girl to say nothing.
The little girl tried to cry but could not. She tried to ask for help but could not. The little girl knew from then on to say nothing.
Block II
(RAYN IS WIPING A TABLE. THE PHONE RINGS. SHE LETS THE VOICEMAIL PICK UP.)
DONALD
Sorry, Rayn. Can’t make it tonight.
(RAYN IS UPSET. SHE GOES TO THE BROOM CLOSET. SHE COMES BACK TO THE ANSWERING MACHINE AND PLAYS THE MACHINE AGAIN.)
DONALD
Sorry, Rayn. Can’t make it tonight.
(RAYN BEGINS TO SWEEP AND THEN SING.)
Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around
Turn me around, turn me around.
Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around.
I'm gonna keep on a-walking, keeping on a-talking
Marching up to Freedom Land.
Ain't gonna let no wicked people...
Ain't gonna let no jailhouse…
(CELL/TELEPHONE RINGS.)
RAYN
Hello. I’m sorry. Yes. I'll keep it down. I know...I know...I should know better. You are right. Okay. Thank you. And a great one to you also.
(RAYN CONTINUES HER SONG, LOUDER.)
Ain't gonna let no neighbours....
Block III
(RAYN IS UNPACKING GROCERY FROM BAGS AND PUTTING THEM IN SHELVES. SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
At the airport. I am eighteen years old.
So it is August 1st, 2003, and I am furious. I am soooo upset! I swear, I hate that man!
Now, I want to go on Caribbean Star. It is leaving at noon and the fare is $190 but that man wants me to use LIAT because it is leaving at 8 a.m. and that man says he has work to do and don't have time to be hanging around doing nothing until 12:00 o’clock.
I say to that man that LIAT is charging almost $400.00 but he does not care about that.
I explain to that man that I need to save as much as possible. But that man does not care. He has work to do and don't have time to be hanging around doing nothing until 12:00 o’clock.
I have to remind that man that I am the one paying the ticket. Not him. Oh, well, that man says that if I do not go and buy that ticket from LIAT, then he will make me, and don't make him have cause to embarrass me at the airport.
Defeated, I take my suitcases, careful not to grab the handles with too much force, because that man will say that I am being rude and will shout at me or slap me in front of people.
I begin my walk over to the LIAT counter. I cannot wait to leave that man’s house and be on my own. I cannot wait! When I leave, I will never come back.
And, suddenly, right there, it comes to me. Rayn, you are eighteen years of age and you are moving. That man cannot do you anything!
So instead of LIAT I make my way to Caribbean Star and that man comes quickly towards me, rushing me, asking, "Are you not going on LIAT? I told you I have work to do and don’t have time to be hanging around doing nothing until 12:00 o’clock”
People stop what they are doing to look at the commotion between Daddy and me but I do not care. The day I have waited so long for is finally here. I look him in his eye and I say, "I am going on Caribbean Star. If you have work to do, then go and do it. I am not asking you to stay here until 12:00 o’clock"
He lifts his hand to slap me and I say, "You really want to slap me? Slap me!”
I wait. He does not slap me.
I pay for my flight.
Block IV
(RAYN IS TYPING ON HER LAPTOP. AT SOME POINT SHE STOPS AND SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE AND POURS HERSELF A DRINK. IT’S A MIXED DRINK.)
RAYN
At my family home. I am fifteen years old.
I hear a cracking. I glance around. Daddy has a long piece of PVC pipe that he was breaking to fashion it into a whip. My knees buckle. He is going to kill me. "I want to pee," I squeal. "I need to pee." I had already thought of an escape plan in half a second. It is how my brain works. Quick exit plans. But Daddy knows me. He knows I had already thought of an escape. "Pee on yourself!" he shouts. "Pee on your blasted self!"
"Let her go pee," Mummy says. "Do not let her dirty up the place."
Daddy listens. "Go and come back," he says. I go to the bathroom. The bathroom that is in his bedroom. We live in a two-storey house. We are on the upstairs. There is bush towards the side of where the bathroom is. There are big, large toilet pipes that lead to God knows where. I figure if I climb out the window, I can hang onto the pipes and then drop into the bush and run away.
I climb onto the pipes but it is dark. I cannot see where I will fall, so I decide to wait for a passing vehicle that may eventually flash its lights so I can see. But Daddy walks into the bathroom before the vehicle comes. He looks out the window and sees me. "Bitch!" he screams. No, he shouted. I drop myself to fall into the bush but he holds onto my shirt. I am hanging from two storeys up. I do not care. I do not have the time to think of how dangerous that is. I just want to get away from him. I try to wiggle away from his grasp but he holds onto me and begins to slap me all over my head. My brain lights up with every slap. "Come up! Come up! Come up!" he repeats, and then there goes my conscience. I hate my conscience sometimes. It says, "Honour your mother and your father."
I let myself up. As soon as I am in the house, he flings me onto his bed. I try to run but he grabs my ankle. I try to kick but he slaps me. It stings. We wrestle and wrestle and wrestle. I try to get away and he tries to keep me in the room. I try to get away and he tries to keep me in the room. I try to get away and he tries to keep me in the room. Finally, I give up. He is my father and I must obey him in the name of the Lord for this is right. He's huffing and puffing. I am huffing and puffing.
He puts me on my belly. He sits on my back. He lifts my skirt. Pulls down my panty, and I feel the first lash of the PVC Pipe on my bottom. Fire, pain, I scream... he keeps on hitting. I can't tell the lashes apart. I can't describe the pain. Mummy comes in with the phone in her hand. "Tyrone is on the phone," she says to Daddy. She is blocking the receiver. Daddy stops. My bottom is pulsing. "Tell him," Daddy huffs, "that I am busy. I will call him back.” I feel his beads of sweat dropping on me. Mummy leaves to deliver the message. Daddy continues doing what he does best.
Block V
(RAYN IS DOING HER LAUNDRY, TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
At my family home. I am fifteen years old.
I get off the bus and cross the street to go home. I'm in my school uniform. I open the door and Daddy is waiting for me. He grabs me before I step inside and flings me across the living room. "Where were you today?"
"School," I lie.
He asks again, "Where were you?!"
"School. I was at school." I lie again.
He slaps me. My ear rings. Little shiny dots dance in front my eyes. "I will ask you again," he says, raising his voice. "Where-were-you-today!?"
Again I lie. "I was at school, Daddy. I was at school." I am prepared to say I was at school even if he kills me. I cannot let him know that I went to see my sister, because he will torture me and then kill me. He grabs me and throws me to the other side of the house. I do not know exactly where I am anymore. I don't have the time to think of my surroundings, but a wall and I are about to become best friends until I feel him grab me again and throw me across the room. "You will make me murder you!" he shouts. I do not cry. I am not afraid. I have no time for my emotions to respond. Mummy comes in. "Stop!" Stop!" she screams. Daddy grabs me with his left hand, slaps her with his right. "Do not tell me how to discipline my children." She does not respond to his slap. She looks at me. "Your cousin called and she said that you went to see your sister. Rayn, tell your father the truth."
My heart drops. How could she do this to me? Why did she do that? She knows how Daddy is.
Daddy asks again. "Where were you?" Maybe if I stick to my story of being at school, then there will be a slight chance he will believe me. A one in a millionth chance, but I think it is worth the risk.
He does not want me speaking to my sister because she ran away from home at seventeen. She said she could not take it anymore. One day he came to her office after 4:30 p.m. No one was there, and in strolled Daddy. Most girls would be happy and excited to see their father, but she froze in fear when she saw him. "Why did you leave?" he greets her. "Daddy, you beat me all the time. I go to work with bruises, it's embarrassing."
"I will not hit you anymore," he assures her. "Come home," he urges. "I do not want you staying with your cousin. She is not a good influence."
Sister said she liked the new agreement and she and Daddy went to get her clothes, but instead of going home Daddy drove two hours to the south of the island. Sister thought he was going to do business, but when they had passed all the places he usually did business with she got scared. He came to a cart-road and drove in. They drove for another thirty minutes in silence until she began to smell the sea. Then he stopped. "Get out!" he ordered. Sister said she quickly got out. You had to do what he said or your punishment would be greater. "I brought you here to beat you," he revealed. "Because when I beat y'all at home, people hear and y'all call the police. I don't have time for that. You can run, but I'm not running behind you. You can scream as loud as you want. There is no one there to hear you. Now I brought a piece of two by four to beat you with, but you cooperate so nicely I'll beat you with the belt instead. Kneel."
He brought her home that night and from the time she walked in I knew something horrible had happened. I opened my mouth to protest but her eyes said to me, "Don't. Just leave it alone." But I couldn't help it. My words burst out. "What did you do to her?!" I screamed. "What did you do?!?!"
He was laughing. "Ask her. She not on TV."
He continued laughing and simply said, “Go to bed.”
Block VI
(RAYN IS FOLDING AND PUTTING AWAY UNDERGARMENTS IN A CHEST OF DRAWS. SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
I am at church. I am sixteen years old.
An elder in the church found out how badly Daddy beat me. He told me that I needed counselling, and he was the man for the job.
We sealed a date and time. Then I didn't feel good about going, especially when he showed up at my school “to ensure that I was coming”, so I went home with my friends instead. He’s a nice guy, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way.
For a year after he made me feel bad for not going with him. He harassed me at least once a week, every week, for an entire year. An entire year until I was sixteen and writing my CXC exams.
I said yes.
He told me to walk on one side of the road, and he would walk on the other. I asked him why, and he said because people talk. He told me to catch one bus and that he would be coming up on the one right after. He told me to wait for him in the park, and that next to the park is a motel. I told him that I thought we were meeting in the park, but he told me that he did not want people to see us talking and that I could get in trouble if Daddy knew where I was.
So we went into the motel.
I was embarrassed at the way the office workers looked at me as I walked by. I was in my school uniform, and they were looking at me like I was a whore.
He told me to make myself at home.
The room was small with a bed, a TV, a bathroom and a closet. I sat at the edge of the bed and he asked me to tell him about Daddy, so I just giggled and said, “Oh, well, my father has his ways, and I am just working on finishing school and leaving home.”
His next question was “Do you have a boyfriend?” And I giggled because I was uncomfortable. He asked me, “Have you ever kissed a guy?” I giggled again and said, “No.” Then he reached over and placed his mouth onto mine. His tongue was wet. Then he started telling me how he saw me looking at him at church, and he knew I liked him.
He undid my hair and tried to remove my overalls. I began to think of a way out. I was not screaming. I was not pushing him away from me. I was not scared. I was calm, just thinking of a way out.
Then I got an idea. I told him that I had forgotten that I had to meet my uncle for 1:00 o’clock and I needed to leave to get there on time. He said, "Oh, no! Can't you be late?" He was still struggling with my overalls. He did not know how to remove them, and I was not showing him how to. I told him that I could not be late because if I was, my uncle would call my father and I would have to tell my father why I was late and he knows when I lie.
He lifted my overalls over my head, turned me around and onto the bed.
It hurt. And there was blood.
He preached at church that Sabbath about forgiveness.
Block VII
(RAYN IS IN THE SHOWER.)
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, my child
Wade in the water
God's a-going to trouble the water
Who's that young girl dressed in red
God's gonna trouble the water
Must be a child that Moses led
God's gonna trouble the water
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
God's a-going to trouble the water
Look over yonder, what do you see?
God's gonna trouble the water
The Holy Ghost a-coming on me
God's gonna trouble the water
My Lord delivered that lady at the well
That lady at the well
That lady at the well
My Lord delivered that lady at the well
Why not me as well?
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
God's a-going to trouble the water
Block VIII
(RAYN IS HANGING CLOTHES ON A CLOTHES LINE. SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
I am at the beach. I am twelve years old.
Today, I am seeing my cousins for lunch at the beach after church. I breathe deeply when I see them. My older cousin sees me and grins. I know why. I smile back and wave like I am happy to see him, but I am not.
Lunchtime comes. All the food is placed at the back of Daddy's twin cab. My plate is filled with all my favourite dishes. It is Sabbath. We always have the best of foods on Sabbath. But I cannot eat. I am nervous. It's about to happen. I force a forkful of food into my mouth. I am standing at the side of Daddy's van. My cousin comes next to me, and he motions for me to ease closer to him. I know what he wants. There are people all around and, as usual, he does not care. They never see, anyway. The van reaches me above my waist. No one can see what is going on from my waist down. I ease closer as he instructs me to, but then I whisper to him, "I'm seeing my period now." I think I can use this period thing to my advantage, because boys do not like periods. They usually run away at the thought of blood dripping like a tap from a woman's vagina, but my cousin shrugs and says, "So."
I feel like I am on a treadmill. I run and run and run and run some more, but still I get nowhere. My cousin takes his hands and reaches for my vagina. I run and run, but still I am standing in the same spot. I am screaming, but no one hears me. My armpits feel hot. My body gets the chills. My stomach feels like a merry-go-round, making circles, circles, more circles. My heart is pounding so hard that I feel it through the tips of my fingers and my eyeballs. I want to run away, but I stay. I do not know how to walk away without him feeling embarrassed. I am afraid he would not be my friend anymore. When he is not your friend, he laughs at you. He is a good-looking guy. He is popular. Everyone likes him. When he laughs, everyone laughs, too, and when he laughs at you, they laugh at you, too, and you get embarrassed. I hate being embarrassed.
I take another forkful of food and chew hard. I taste nothing. My soul has left my body. Physically, something horrible is happening to me, but in my soul I am anywhere but here.
Daddy makes a joke. My cousin laughs loudly at it with everyone else. He sure knows how to multitask. He is so skillful at what he does. No one ever notices. I laugh at the joke, too. Someone is taking advantage of my physical body, and I hate it but I'm laughing. My mother looks over at me and smiles. I smile back at her. She thinks we're bonding.
Block IX
(RAYN IS IRONING CLOTHES. SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
I am in Sunday school playing I Spy with my friend. I am ten years old.
TRICIA
I spy with my two little eyes.
RAYN
What do you spy with your two little eyes?
TRICIA
Something that begins with "T".
RAYN
T?
TRICIA
Yes. T.
RAYN
The New Testament?
TRICIA
No.
RAYN
The Old Testament?
TRICIA
No.
RAYN
A throne?
TRICIA
No.
RAYN
Give me a hint.
TRICIA
Crooked.
RAYN
Crooked?
TRICIA
Yes. Crooked.
RAYN
I don't know. I give up.
TRICIA
You sure?
RAYN
Yes. I sure.
TRICIA
I don't believe you. You lying.
RAYN
Faith to my believing God. If I lie, I hate God. I give up.
TRICIA
Sister Sharon ugly, crooked toes.
(RAYN AND MANDY GIGGLE IN CHURCH….)
Block X
(RAYN IS WEARING UNDER GARMENTS. SHE IS HAVING A GLASS OF RED WINE. SHE IS TYPING ON HER LAPTOP.)
RAYN
I am at home with my mother. I am eight years old.
Act One, Scene One, day, exterior, dash, backyard. Mother is laundering clothes in a concrete sink. Rayn hangs the washed garments on the line for her mother.
RAYN
Mom?
MOTHER
Yes, Rayn.
RAYN
I have been thinking. When I grow up, I want to be an actress!
MOTHER
Oh. You can't be an actress. Acting means you are lying, and the Bible said, "Thou shall not lie." Remember?
RAYN
Well, what about in commercials. Is that lying, too?
MOTHER
Well, the actresses in the movies are the same ones acting in commercials.
RAYN
Well, what about singing? I could be a singer, couldn’t I?
MOTHER
Well, you will have to sing only gospel music. You couldn’t sing any banja music. You have to be in the world but not of the world.
RAYN
Well, what about radio announcing?
MOTHER
You would need to work at a Christian station. Anywhere else would be a sin.
RAYN
Dancing?
MOTHER
No. Dancing leads to sin. You know that. All that rubbing plus touching equal sin.
RAYN
Writing?
MOTHER
That's nice, but you can't write fiction.
RAYN
I can't be anything I want to be?
MOTHER
You can be a journalist. They only report the facts. That's not a sin.
RAYN
I guess. I guess I can do that.
MOTHER
But remember you can't work on Sabbath.
Block XI
(RAYN IS SELECTING WHAT SHE IS GOING TO WEAR. SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
I am in my bed, its early morning. I am six years old.
I grew up in your typical Christian nuclear family. Mother, father, sister, brother and myself. I am the middle child. Every morning Mummy woke us up at 5:00 a.m. to worship as a family.
LITTLE RAINBOW
Mummy. I'm tired.
MUMMY
You can go back to bed after, but we need to worship.
LITTLE RAINBOW
Gentle Jesus meek and mild
Gentle Jesus meek and mild
Look upon a little child
Pity my simplicity
Suffer me to come to thee
Block XII
(RAYN IS PUTTING ON MAKEUP. SHE TURNS ON HER RECORDING DEVICE.)
RAYN
I am at our family home. I’m four years old. Daddy and Mummy take Sister and me to a concert. We pose for the camera. The flash scares me. I hold on to Sister as tightly as I can.
Daddy and Mummy are drinking a drink. When we get home, Daddy begins ranting and raving and he picks up Moses to beat Sister and me because he didn't like the way we looked at him as he drank his drink. He said that we made him look like he wasn't feeding us.
Mummy is screaming. "You're not beating them! Not tonight! Not tonight!" Sister and I are in our bedroom, holding hands, afraid that he would come in to beat us, but he does not. Mummy saves us this time.
When he goes to work, she dresses us and takes us to the policewoman who lives close by. She and the police woman chat, but we cannot hear what they are saying. She comes back to us and says, “One more chance.” She says, “One more chance.”
We wash away the pained tears. It has happened before, ripped apart, torn, shattered, left to self-destruct. I tasted blood this morning.
Block XIII
(RAYN COMPLETES HER DRESSING WHILE SINGING.)
(OH FREEDOM)
Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in a my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free (over again x3)
No more weeping, no more weeping, no more weeping over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in a my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
There'll be singin' there'll be singin', there'll be
singin' over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in a my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in a my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
THE END