The Quarters

By Ruby Williams Shivers

Cove Harbor was a hotbed of all that Granny lamented. Even the locals defined their little enclave as a small town heat wave. Cove Harbor was at least as hot as Miss. Lillians description of Jamie. All the fans in Georgia could not cool Cove Harbor off - not the fans, not the housewives, not the whores, not the saints, not the whites, not the Blacks: Cove Harbor was hot!

Bowmans Quarters was a laboratory for Granny Cauldron. She stood up and pulled back the hand made curtains. Peeking through the window out over the circular porch that provided a panoramic view of Bowmans Quarters, she felt the pulling and tugging of her emotions as she assessed the plight of her people in Bowmans Quarters against the tales of a people out of Africa, as told by her father.

It was clear that Mr. Bowman had no claim on the Whelan family, but he seemed to have his way with some of the females on his place Mr. Bowman darted from the house trying desperately to fasten his pants. Mr. Hoos entered the house just as his wife emerged from the bedroom, clothes awry. In my own house, he muttered in a stupor. Is there nothing sacred for us colored?

Passing Hazel Maes bedroom window while paying a visit to her friend Joan one evening, Mamie heard a noise. She took the noises emanating from inside the window for distress signals. As Mamie nervously approached the window and peeked in, there was Hazel Mae, buck naked, writhing as if she was in pain. She was involved in some serious lovemaking with someone whose identity Mamie could not discern at the moment.

Peering out into the ocean from the infamous Door of no Return the twins wept as they held each other close.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 12, 2003
• ISBN: 9781465321725

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Copyright © 2003 by Ruby Williams Shivers.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing

from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to

any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

Cover Photo by Dianna Jennings Back Photo by Joy and Joy Studio

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

MAMIE WHELAN

THE WHELANS—FROM GEORGIA TO NEW YORK

SLIM, THE WHELAN’S OLDEST SON

SAM RETURNS TO COVE HARBOR

THE JOHNSON AND WHELAN FAMILIES IN COVE HARBOR

MR. JAMES’ PLACE

AUNT MAUREEN AND COUSIN TOPSY

MR. BOWMAN’S PLACE

THE FARRS AND BOWMAN’S QUARTERS

MAMIE REMEMBERS COVE HARBOR AND ITS QUARTERS

GROWING UP ‘COLORED’ IN THE SOUTH

GRANNY

MAMIE DREAMS OF JAY CLAW

MAMIE REMEMBERS AVA AND DAN

HOMEGOING OF GRANNY CAULDRON

TWINS

MAMIE LEAVES TONY

MAMIE GOES NORTH

COVE HARBOR TWINS RETURN TO AFRICA

THE TWINS’ LETTER FROM WEST AFRICA

MAMIE AND TOPSY MEET NATE AND JACK

NATE BETRAYS TOPSY

MAMIE AND JACK GET MARRIED

MAMIE GOES BACK TO SCHOOL

JACK LEAVES MAMIE

JACK RETURNS

ABOUT THE BOOK

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Writing my first fictional novel has been a real challenge but I have been fortunate to be introduced to a superb editor who I now call my friend. Thank you Jean Wells from the Positive Community Magazine for insisting on perfection in spite of my penchant for continuing to revise and rewrite even what you’ve edited. Therefore, I take full responsibility for any shortcomings of the book.

Gerri Redd Coles, thank you for introducing me to Jean Wells whose keen eyes saw the making of the manuscript in its raw draft form. Her belief in the book and assurance that it could come together was the encouragement that kept pushing me.

Pete, my husband, as always you’ve been a source of courage and encouragement for me. Thank you for allowing me to write while you cooked—luv you.

Charone, Chamir, Shaka, and Askia—my grandsons, you’ve been my inspiration—continue what you’re doing. I’m proud of you.

Rashan, Sabir and Waheed my sons, because of you I write: God knew what He was doing when He favored me with you.

To all of my sons: Sean, Maurice, PeeWee, Reggie, Rockie, Jemeel, Artic, Jr., Coy, Hakeem, Immotep, Tillis, George, Jeffery, Darryl, Serge, Greg, DeVon, Dawan, Ambrose, Stephen, Aaron, Billy, Jamil, Archie, Derrick, Mannin, Antwain, Doris, Rick, Dihuant, Gary, Rashad, Jalil, Javaughn and to those I failed to name—stay strong Black men

Lula, my sister, thank you for reading and critiquing my manuscript in its most raw stage.

My extended family: you are always in my thought. Although the book is purely fictional, it could not have been done without my life’s experiences around you.

To the Robinson family and particularly my dear friend, Calvin, who brought the PAFO class out of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. to teach my family the rich history of our African past through his great piece of work, The Journey of the Songhai People. I look forward to the sequel, Operation Rescue, which is being finished as this book goes to print. Keep on brother!

My ancestors: you never left my thoughts for a moment.

Thank You God for You!

MAMIE WHELAN

Daydreaming, once a pleasant pastime for Mamie Whelan Burns, fourth child of Lillian and Dave Whelan, had become an intrusion. She was finding it difficult to concentrate. Memories would not leave her alone. For months now, nearly everything reminded her of Cove Harbor and the people she had known there, in the section known as Bowman Quarters.

Granny Cauldron was the most prominent in her thoughts, but there were other family members too—nine brothers and two sisters, and her cousins on the Johnson side. From the Quarters proper there were Mr. Farr and Mr. Bryant, the property owners, and Professor Nape, the teacher. Then there were the white folk in Cove Harbor: Mr. Bowman who owned the Quarters, his cousin Jay Claw who freelanced Mr. Bowman’s ‘hands’, Mr. James who owned the turpentine camp, Mr. Robinson with whom Mr. Dave sharecropped, and Mr. Blueshield, the sheriff of the county. All the Blacks called him Long Arm of the Law.

More recent memories had begun to invade her space, especially her early days in Brooklyn where she has lived for as many years as she had lived in Cove Harbor, with as many varied experiences and challenges.

Now a candidate for a doctorate, a long way from Bowman’s Quarters and even further away from a marriage of fifteen years, which had fallen apart. She was blessed with a kinetic spirit that would not allow her mind to lie dormant. The pursuit of her education kept her from being a full time wife, or so Jack had frequently complained. Her drive to continue the journey toward enlightenment that Granny had introduced her to in Cove Harbor kept her thirsting for knowledge. Granny often declared, quite proudly, that Mamie’s spirit would confirm her to be an African queen. Queen Nzinga, child, that’s who you is, she would say.

A voice jolted her out of her reverie. "Gosh, Mamie, I didn’t know you liked stuff like The Color Purple.

Startled, Mamie came out of her daze. Aah! Topsy. It’s you. I was deep in thought, she said bringing herself back to reality. Mamie became aware of the books—The Color Purple and The African Heritage Bible—sprawled across her lap. Topsy wouldn’t know that she hadn’t looked at either for at least a couple of hours.

That’s what you’re reading, isn’t it? Topsy asked. I saw the movie and I thought it was degrading to us as African people. The Black people I know aren’t like that"

I saw the movie, too, replied Mamie. I thought the acting was great and Oprah was superb. Besides, the book is always more in-depth than the movie. By the time a book gets re-written into a screenplay, a lot of the original story has been left in the editing room. A professor of mine suggested I read the book, though. My thesis is on the negative effect of racism and white supremacy on the psyche of Black people. The book is one example of how racism and white supremacy have convinced us to see ourselves negatively. I’m using the Bible as an authoritative source to dispel some misconceptions about us.

I’m ashamed to say this, Mamie, Topsy responded, but I am perplexed by some of the scriptures. I feel bad when I go to Bible studies and leave feeling more confused after I’ve left. I itch to ask questions but when I do, I come across as a troublemaker."

Mamie was puzzled by her cousin’s remarks. She knew that further discussion meant time away from her reading, but she asked anyway. What questions do you want to ask?

Oh! There are many, Topsy answered. "I even have a problem with some of the lyrics to the songs we sing. Particularly the one about Jesus will wash me whiter than snow.’ Sister Mae always starts the class with it. I know it’s figurative, but I don’t like the implications. Some people try to suggest the color black is a curse upon the Black race from God, and when I hear lyrics like that, it sort of confirms it. What’s most interesting is the scripture that speaks to a color that was cursed, but it wasn’t black. Have you read 2 Kings? Once I queried Rev. Will about that scripture and you would have thought he had lockjaw."

What does that book say that would make him react that way? Mamie asked.

Topsy pulled the well-worn Bible from her knapsack and flipped the pages to 2 Kings: Chapter 5:27. Here, read it yourself.

Mamie took the Bible reluctantly, sensing that Topsy was anxious to engage her in a long discourse that she did not have time for. The words leaped out at her The leprosy therefore of Naaman shall cleave unto thee, and unto thy seed for ever. And he went out from his presence a leper as white as snow. "Oh, now I understand why Rev. Will reacted that way. Some people have a problem learning the truth; afraid of upsetting the applecart, I guess: proof that it’s not the bible as much as it is the interpretation that should bother

"

you.

The passage, which really concerns me most, is the one referring to slavery. Here, Mamie, read Ephesians 6:5.

Mamie’s eyes followed Topsy’s fingers obediently to the underlined portion of the Bible. Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ. ‘Now you know, that’s a scripture that should be reinterpreted! It’s clear to me that it’s not referring to the slave phenomenon carried out by the Arabs and Europeans against our people; and because the scriptures have been interpreted historically through the eyes of the white man, I think any passages that we find questionable should be reexamined."

Well, when I read the Bible, I’m more comfortable with these books as guides. Look. Mamie said as she picked through the stack of books on the table. Here are some that I use. She pulled out God of the Oppressed by James H. Cone and The Husia by Dr. Ron Karanga and pushed them toward Topsy.

The Bible is a great book that was written by men, she went on, obviously divinely inspired. Each book was surely influenced by the events of the time during which it was written. And as you know, the Bible has also been translated hundreds of times from many different languages and various philosophical, social and political points of view and dogmas, which must have affected how each translator interpreted it. If pictures depict Jesus as blond and blue eyed then other parts of the Bible could have been misinterpreted, too.

Topsy interrupted. "Some things are being revised as we speak—like the controversy over the Christian belief that Jews killed Christ. There was a serious debate in Bible Studies last week. It started when Brother Sam suggested that we were the original Jews and that the allegation about Jews killing Jesus was made to defame us. He says present day European Jews are demanding a change now. Sister Aaron acted as though he had committed blasphemy. She warned him about making statements like that or we could be considered anti-Semitic. I tell you Mamie, it’s so confusing. I’ve been thinking about becoming a Muslim."

Listen Topsy, unless we can go all the way back, I suggest you stick to what you know. Our original religion has been co-opted. Good news though, its not about religion, it’s about God. Get a holt to God, sister girl, and call the religion whatever you please. Now, that’s gospel according to Mamie. She laughed, placing her hands on her hips. Besides, as Christians, she offered more somberly, we have to begin to look at translation from an African perspective.

What do you mean? Topsy asked.

Well Tops, there are many translations. Some are done to make the Bible easier to understand and some are done for revisionist purposes. The African perspective is the original perspective. I believe the most informed Bible for Black people now is The Original African Heritage Study Bible," by James Peeples, Ph.D.