Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [210]
He bridled, too, at the counsel he would hear Bell giving Kizzy about how to be a personal maid. “Now, you listen to me good, gal! It ain’t every nigger git chance to work fer quality white folks like massa. Right off, dat put you ’bove de rest o’ young ’uns. Now, de big thing is to learn what massa want without him never havin’ to tell you. You’ gwine start gittin’ up an’ out early wid me, ’way fo’ massa do. Dat’s how I gits a head start on ’im—done always b’lieve in dat. First thing, gwine show you how to whup de dus’ out’n his coat an’ pants when you hangs ’em out to air on de clothesline. Jes’ be sho’ you don’t break or scratch none o’ de buttons—” and so on, sometimes for hours at a time.
Not a single evening passed, it seemed to Kunta, without more instructions, down to the most ridiculous detail. “For blackin’ his shoes,” she told Kizzy one night, “I shakes up in ajar l’il simmon beer an’ lampblack wid l’il sweet oil an’ rock candy. Dat stan’ overnight, den shake it up good again, it make dem black shoes of his’n shine like glass.” Before he could stand no more of it and retreated for relief to the fiddler’s hut, Kunta acquired such invaluable household hints as “if you set a teaspoon o’ black pepper an’ brown sugar mashed to a paste wid a l’il cow’s cream in a saucer in a room, ain’t no flies comin’ in dere nohow!” And that soiled wallpaper was best cleaned by rubbing it with the crumbly insides of two-day-old biscuits.
Kizzy seemed to be paying attention to her lessons, even if Kunta didn’t, for Bell reported one day, weeks later, that the massa had mentioned to her that he was pleased with the way the andirons in the fireplace had been shining since Kizzy started polishing them.
But whenever Missy Anne came over for a visit, of course, the massa didn’t have to say that Kizzy was excused from work for the duration of her stay. Then, as always, the two girls would go romping and skipping about, jumping rope, playing hide-and-seek and a few games they invented. “Playing nigger,” bursting open a ripe watermelon and jamming their faces down into its crisp wetness one afternoon, they ruined the fronts of their dresses, prompting Bell to send Kizzy yelping with a backhand slap, and to snap even at Missy Anne. “You knows you’s raised better’n dat! Ten years ol’, gwine to school, an’ fo’ you knows it gwine be a high-class missy!”
Though Kunta no longer bothered to complain about it, he remained a most difficult mate for Bell to deal with during Missy Anne’s visits and for at least another day afterward. But whenever Kunta was told to drive Kizzy to Massa John’s house, it was all he could do to keep from showing his eagerness to be alone again with his girlchild in the buggy. By this time, Kizzy had come to understand that whatever was said during their buggy rides was a matter between the two of them, so he considered it safer now to teach her more about his homeland without fear that Bell would find them out.
Rolling along the dusty Spotsylvania County roads, he would tell her the Mandinka names of things they passed along the road. Pointing at a tree, he’d say “yiro,” then downward at the road, “silo.” As they passed a grazing cow, he’d say, “ninsemuso,” and went over a small bridge, “salo.” Once when they got caught in a sudden shower, Kunta shouted “sanjio,” waving out at the rain, and when the sun reappeared, pointing at it, he said “tilo.” Kizzy would watch his mouth intently as he said each word, then imitate what she saw with her own lips, repeating it over and over until she got it right. Soon she began pointing to things herself and asking him for their Mandinka names. One day they were hardly beyond the shadow of the big house when Kizzy poked him in the ribs, tapped