Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [284]
“You’s finally ‘Gran’mammy Kizzy’ now!” said Matilda, propped up in bed against some pillows, nestling the baby and weakly smiling at her visitors.
“Lawd, yes! Don’t it soun’ pretty!” exclaimed Kizzy, her whole face one big grin.
“Soun’ like to me Kizzy gittin’ ol ’, dat’s what!” said Uncle Pompey with a twinkle in his eye.
“Hmph! Ain’t no woman here ol’ as some we knows!” snorted Sister Sarah.
Finally, Miss Malizy commanded, “Awright, time us all git out’n here an’ let ’em res’!” And they all did, except for Kizzy.
After being quietly thoughtful for a while, Matilda said, “Ma’am, I been thinkin’ ’bout what you tol’ me ’bout yo’ pappy. Since I never even got to see mine, I b’lieves George wouldn’t care if dis child have my pappy’s name. It was Virgil, my mammy say.”
The name instantly had Chicken George’s hearty approval when he returned, filled with such jubilance at the birth of a son that he could hardly contain himself. Black derby awry as his big hands swooped the infant up in the air, he exclaimed, “Mammy,’member what I tol’ you, I gwine tell my young’uns what you tol’ me?” His face alight, he made a little ceremony of seating himself before the fireplace with Virgil held upright in his lap as he spoke to him in grand tones. “Listen here, boy! Gwine tell you ’bout yo’ great-gran’daddy. He were a African dat say he name ‘Kunta Kinte.’ He call a guitar a ko, an’ a river ‘Kamby Bolongo,’ an’ lot mo’ things wid African names. He say he was choppin’ a tree to make his l’il brother a drum when it was fo’ mens come up an’ grabbed ’im from behin’. Den a big ship brung ’im crost de big water to a place call ’Naplis. An’ he had runned off fo’ times when he try to kill dem dat cotched ’im an’ dey cut half his foot off!”
Lifting the infant, he turned his face toward Kizzy. “An’ he jumped de broom wid de big-house cook name Miss Bell, an’ dey had a l’il ol’ gal—an’ dere she is, yo’ gran’mammy grinnin’ at you right dere!” Matilda was beaming her approval as widely as Kizzy, whose eyes were moist with love and pride.
With her husband away as much as he was, Matilda began spending more of her time in the evenings with Gran’mammy Kizzy, and after a while they were pooling their rations and eating their supper together. Always Matilda would say the grace as Kizzy sat quietly with her hands folded and her head bowed. Afterward Matilda would nurse the baby, and then Kizzy would sit proudly with little Virgil clasped against her body, rocking him back and forth, either humming or singing to him softly as the grandfather clock ticked and Matilda sat reading her worn Bible. Even though it wasn’t against the massa’s rules, Kizzy still disapproved of reading—but it was the Bible, so she guessed no harm could come of it. Usually, not too long after the baby was asleep, Kizzy’s head would begin bobbing, and often she would begin murmuring to herself as she dozed. When she leaned over to retrieve the sleeping Virgil from Kizzy’s arms, Matilda sometimes heard snatches of the things she was mumbling. They were always the same: “Mammy ... Pappy ... Don’t let ’em take me! ... My people’s los’.... Ain’t never see ’em no mo’ dis worl’.... ” Deeply touched, Matilda would whisper something like, “We’s yo’ people now, Gran’mammy Kizzy,” and after putting Virgil to bed, she would gently rouse the older woman—whom she was growing to love as she had her own mother—and after accompanying her to her own cabin, Matilda would often be wiping at her eyes on her way back.
On Sunday afternoons, only the three women attended Matilda’s prayer services at first—until Sister Sarah’s sharp tongue finally shamed Uncle Pompey into joining them. No one ever even thought about inviting Chicken George, for even when he was at home, by Sunday noon he would have returned to the gamefowl area. With the little group of five seated solemnly on chairs brought from their cabins and placed in a half circle under the chinquapin tree, Matilda would read some biblical passages