Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [182]
He was more concerned that there remained some serious matters he wanted to take up with Bell, but he never could quite seem to get around to them. Among them was the fact that she kept on her front-room wall a large, framed picture of the yellow-haired “Jesus,” who seemed to be a relative of their heathen “O Lawd.” But finally he did manage to mention it, and Bell promptly said, “Ain’t but two places everybody’s headin’ for, heab’n or hell, and where you goin’, dat’s yo’ business!” And she would say no more about it. Her reply discomfited him every time he thought of it, but finally he decided that she had a right to her beliefs, however misguided; just as he had a right to his. Unshaken, he had been born with Allah and he was going to die with Allah—although he hadn’t been praying to Him regularly again ever since he started seeing a lot of Bell. He resolved to correct that and hoped that Allah would forgive him.
Anyway, he couldn’t feel too harshly about someone, even a pagan Christian, who was so good to one of another faith, even someone as worthy as he was. She was so nice to him, in fact, that Kunta wanted to do something special for her—something at least as special as the mortar and pestle. So one day when he was on his way over to Massa John’s to pick up Missy Anne for a weekend visit with Massa Waller, Kunta stopped off by a fine patch of bulrushes he had often noticed, and picked some of the best he could find. With the rushes split into fine pieces, and with some selected, soft inner white cornshucks, over the next several days he plaited an intricate mat with a bold Mandinka design in its center. It came out even better than he had expected, and he presented it to Bell the next time she had him over for supper. She looked upward from the mat to Kunta. “Ain’t nobody gon’ put dey feets on dat!” she exclaimed, turning and disappearing into her bedroom. Back a few moments later with a hand behind her, she said, “Dis was gonna be for yo’ Christmas, but I make you somethin’ else.”
She held out her hand. It was a pair of finely knitted woolen socks—one of them with a half foot, the front part filled with soft woolen cushion. Neither he nor Bell seemed to know what to say.
He could smell the aroma of the food she had been simmering, ready to be served, but a strange feeling was sweeping over him as they kept on looking at each other. Bell’s hand suddenly grasped his, and with a single motion she blew out both of the candles and swiftly with Kunta feeling as if he were a leaf being borne by a rushing stream, they went together through the curtained doorway into the other room and lay down facing one another on the bed. Looking deeply into his eyes, she reached out to him, they drew together, and for the first time in the thirty-nine rains of his life, he held a woman in his arms.
CHAPTER 65
“Massa ain’t want to believe me when I tol’ ’im,” Bell said toto Kunta. “But he finally say he feel us ought to think on it for a spell yet, ’cause peoples gittin’ married is sacred in de eyes of Jesus.” To Kunta, however, Massa Waller said not a word about it during the next few weeks. Then one night Bell came running out to Kunta’s cabin and reported breathlessly, “I done tol’ ’im we still wants to marry, an’ he say, well, den, he reckon it’s awright!”
The news coursed swiftly through slave row. Kunta was embarrassed as different ones offered their congratulations. He could have choked Bell for telling even Missy Anne when she came next to visit her uncle, for the first thing she did after finding out was race about screaming, “Bell gon’ git married! Bell gon’ git married!” Yet at the same time, deep inside himself, Kunta felt that it was improper for him to feel any displeasure