ZINZI
Accompong, Maroon Village, Cockpit Country
The pounding in my head, the pain that makes my eyes water and my jaw tense, won’t quit. I don’t believe my mother’s claim about hurricanes and my sensitivity to them and other changes in the weather, but something is coming. Or it’s the baby, a miracle for a woman my age, unmarried and just beginning to come to terms with falling in love with the man I’ve slept with twice.
It felt good to confide in Vivian Jean about my possible condition. As I approach my mother’s home, I decide to wait before sharing the news with Momma Hazel. That will stir up a different kind of storm.
I stop as a sudden guttural scream rips through the air—someone crying out in pain. It isn’t coming from my mother’s house. I quickly turn and head back to where I was moments ago. The scream is coming from Vivian Jean’s hut.
I rush into the house. Tully lies on the bed, his bare legs bent and his left knee pulled toward his chest.
“I was bitten on the calf by a spider and it hurts like hell.”
“What kind?” I pose a question that neither of them can answer. They can’t tell one spider from the next.
Tully opens his hand. “I killed the damn thing.” The insect is as large as his palm, and Tully is a tall man, with long limbs and fingers.
“Give me the bug.” I take the creature from him, and it’s not entirely smashed. “I’ll take this to my mother. She’ll know what it is and how to treat the bite.”
Tully is already sweating profusely.
“It really hurts,” Tully repeats, with a short laugh. He notices the fear on Vivian Jean’s face. “I hate spiders, but I couldn’t help yelling. It didn’t hurt that much when it actually bit me, but then … sorry for making such a fuss.”
I glance from Tully to his wife. “I’ll be right back. My mother will sort this out.”
As I make my way to her hut, I decide that if she can’t, I’ll just wake up everyone—Colonel Rowe, Iris, Katherine, Robbie, and Othella.
“Who is hurt?” my mother asks as I enter the house.
“You’re up. Good.”
“How could I not be with all the ruckus?”
“Vivian Jean’s husband was bitten by this.” I open my hand. The expression on my mother’s face confirms my concern. “It’s a banana spider, isn’t it, Momma?”
“No, not exactly. Some call it that because it travels from Brazil to Jamaica on banana boats.” She walks with a heavy gait toward her basket of herbs in the corner of the thatched-roof house. “It’s a wandering spider, and it’s deadly.”
I place the bug into my mother’s outstretched hand, and my mother sets it aside. “We need something to relieve the pain and draw the poison from his body.” She slowly moves from one spot to another, opening one basket after another. “Where was he bitten?”
“In the calf,” I reply.
“Good. That’s quite a distance from his heart.” MommaHazel clears away a collection of herbs and jars I recognize, either by sight or by their strong aroma. There’s ginger, soursop leaves, allspice, leaf of life, and guinea hen weed. She hands me the leaf of life. “You need to go now and apply this to the wound. It will help prevent swelling while I prepare the poultice.”
I blink, anxiety rolling off my brow like perspiration. My mother hasn’t said it, but I can feel her apprehension. Tully’s life is in jeopardy.
“Go on, child. Stop staring and hurry up. Mi be right behind you,” she says, glancing at the spider she holds. “Mi have that boy with the plant, Robbie, take a look at it as well. He might know something about poisons.”
As I run to Vivian Jean’s hut, I realize I need to go to the colonel’s yard next to wake up Robbie, Othella, and Katherine. It won’t be easy—not that I’m not in good physical shape or worried about the possible baby in my belly. It’s the rain. It is falling hard and heavy. The wind is blowing, and the weather will worsen before it improves if the crater-sized pain in my head is really the sign my mother claims it is.
“My mother’s coming. Hold this over the wound,” I say to Vivian Jean. “I’m going to wake up Robbie. He may be able to help.”
“Zinzi,” Vivian Jean says, her voice shaking. “What kind of spider was it? Is it poisonous?”
I glance at Tully, his eyes closed and his face a mask of pain. Then I catch Vivian Jean’s gaze and nod.
“Yes,” I whisper. “It could kill him.”
I keep my head down as the storm brings heavy rain and strong winds that could tear the clothes from my back. But I need Robbie. My mother’s poultice is potent, but it isn’t a cure. If there’s something Robbie can tell them or help them with, I believe he’ll do it. That’s the boy’s nature.
