a novel written by the late Chrystel Lynwood Hyde Straughan.
Continued from page 30 of the Friday, October 11, 2019, #3313 issue of Amandala
Chapter 3 – Matron playing with fire
The fiasco of the Arithmetic test and Matron’s three-month demotion marked a turning point in the nature of her interactions with her father. They both seemed to lie low until the demotion had lifted and she returned to her regular class, but ever since then she had “gone on a rampage” to bring about change in her environment, as she had felt stifled and had either to act or submit to her father’s regime and she could no longer do that. Inspired by Earl Braddick’s dramatic confrontation she had acted hastily; but, while he could remove himself from her father’s presence, she could not, and had had to face a more strict oversight of her actions by him.
In response to this she had questioned, harassed, opposed and challenged him recklessly, every chance she got , over anything and everything, convinced that If she accepted his rule meekly, as Millicent did, he would be more domineering and unreasonable; but if she resisted, even in small ways, it surprised and slowed him down and gave her a little breathing space. She got into the habit of asking outrageous questions or proposing fantastic ideas; and even when he was impatient the teacher in him could not resist correcting, explaining or enlightening her. She knew that she was playing with fire, but she didn’t care what he thought of her intelligence so long as she got the chance to agitate, shake things up and disturb his peace of mind.
Things came to a head when an incident took place at home not long after the test. She knew him to be a man who demanded immediate compliance when he sent for you regardless of what you were doing. You were supposed to drop everything and respond! This day she was making “tableta” and was stirring the pot vigorously to prevent the sweet from burning as the fire in the wood stove had suddenly flared. It was not easy to reduce the heat when cooking on a wood-fuelled stove and she didn’t want to stop the operation to go to him, then having to rebuild it and start all over again later on, so she had asked her sister to explain that she was busy and would report to him as soon as she was finished. Another thing he hated was waiting on anyone. As she told Mama, that kind of behaviour was unthinkable for the old Octavia, but not for the new, and she knew she was in for trouble.
When she knocked at the door of the study about twenty minutes later, her father had opened it himself and told her to come in. Millicent was standing there looking apprehensive, while her mother sat in an upright chair, her hands crossed in her lap, wearing her usual stiff expression which found you guilty in advance of whatever you were accused.
Mr. Bertram had closed the door and left her standing just inside the room as he walked up and down at a timely pace, his hands behind his back. In a conversational tone he had finally begun by enquiring calmly about her various ‘presumptuous’ actions of the recent past, one by one. Why had she told Mr. Stanley that he could not borrow the pump? Why had she invited Earl Braddick into the kitchen on the day he had delivered some groceries, and served him a glass of water as if he were a visitor? Why had she allowed Mrs. Sabal’s grandson to climb the coconut tree, without first getting his permission, and given him three of the six coconuts he had brought down? Why had she stopped and held conversation with the two little Atkins girls last Friday after school instead of coming straight home? And so on, and so on.
Matron said that at first she hadn’t tried to answer his questions, believing that they were only for effect anyway, and to mark how far she had gone astray and, thus, how deserving of the punishment she would soon receive. Added to this, she was well aware that boldness, especially in women, was another thing that enraged him, and had daringly looked him straight in the face and shrugged her shoulders in reply to each question, recklessly courting disaster.
She had not known how long the interrogation had lasted, noting with secret pleasure that one cause of greater annoyance had been the reward granted to Richie Sabal, who refused to climb the tall coconut tree without being compensated each time. This had long been a bone of contention between the young boy and her father, who felt that he alone had the right to decide if and how many he would dispense. On the other hand, Richie, who climbed quickly and effortlessly, exacted payment afterwards, usually a minimum of three nuts whether he brought down twenty or only four. If you wished you could give him more, but not less!
It tickled her that while there were many boys attending the school of which her father was Principal who were eager and willing to do any favours for him for free, this child refused to submit to the tyranny of working for nothing, and was cheeky enough to boast that he could get away with this as he attended a different school!
Matron said people condemned her for daring to stand up to her father when everyone else, including his wife, her sister Millicent, his students, his staff, the church committee and all those with whom he came in contact willingly accepted his authority. They said she was too “upstart,” and she believed they probably secretly hoped for her downfall, having no idea of what she was experiencing and caring nothing about her feelings. They saw only the material advantages and envied her supposedly good life, but she said she realized that it was up to her to correct the situation as no one else would dare.
She said she questioned why any human being, no matter how gifted, should be indulged in having his way all the time? She resented the idea that Earl Braddick, with his talent, good nature and winning personality, should be put aside and denied his chance for advancement simply because he differed with her father as to how students should be treated? Again, why shouldn’t Richie Sabal be rewarded for his services on his terms? Surely he had the right to put the price on his labour? If you didn’t want to pay him, then go climb the tree yourself! Most of all, however, she knew that it was up to her to do something as no one else would!
Judging by the opinions expressed only to her by her sister Millicent about their Christian duty to their fellowman, Matron knew that Millicent held similar views to hers, but would never challenge her father in any way. Furthermore, from their discussions about the Scriptures, which they had studied carefully and regularly from an early age, she felt they shared the conviction that only Almighty God, who was perfect, was owed the kind of homage her father demanded, and that He gave free will to all of us, not only to her father!
So, there they were facing each other, both equally determined not to back down. “Octavia,” her father had begun finally, “do you know why your mother and sister are present?” and before she could reply, answered his own question: “Well, I will tell you why. It is because I want them to witness what I have to say to you, so that when I clamp down on you everyone will know that I gave you fair warning! For the past few months you have been acting like someone demented, and I have given you a long rope, in the hope that you would come to your senses; but I am now at the end of my patience and things cannot continue like this. I am in charge here, not you, and you are answerable to me as long as you are under my roof. I intend to correct this situation today and I want answers to my questions. I am patiently waiting to hear what you have to say for yourself!”
“Three pairs of eyes were on me,” Matron had said, “but I chose to look at Millicent, knowing that although frightened of our parents, I could always count on her for sympathy. I would do what I had to do for her sake and for all who could not do for themselves. I took a deep breath and plunged into the fray.”
She had revealed in measured tones how she had told Mr. Stanley to come back when the owner was at home, as she was resentful of his contemptuous manner of looking her up and down like some lifeless object whenever he, her father, was absent; and of making unpleasant personal remarks about how he told his son that she was ripening nicely and would soon be ready to give some man satisfaction. She knew it would enrage her father for anyone to encroach on his right to decide if, when and with whom his daughter should be mated.
She had boldly advanced her opinion that it had not seemed fair that a promising scholar like Earl Braddick should be penalised and lose the opportunity for advancement only for having different ideas from him; and that the day when he had delivered the groceries it had been by hand, as Mr. Allen’s delivery cart was out of order, and he had walked a long distance in the hot sun, so she had felt her father would not mind her offering him some water to cool him down.
She had proceeded to deal with the other matters one by one in as frank and respectful a manner as possible, ending with the declaration that her intention had not been to challenge his authority, but to prove her ability to make sound decisions, as she had been taught, and as she felt herself capable now that she was no longer a little child.
It seemed to her that she had climbed a high hill and finally run out of steam. She sat down abruptly in the nearest seat without being invited and waited in anxiety for the hurricane she felt would surely come.
Surprisingly, there was silence while she waited for her father to pounce, instead of which he started by shaking his head in puzzlement, saying mildly: “Octavia, I don’t know why you seem to think of me as your enemy, when all I am trying to do is for your betterment. You think that because you are now in your teens you know what is best for you, but you have to remember that your parents are in this world longer than you and can see farther ahead than you.”
Matron said she had tried to interrupt to say that she only wanted an input, but he had held up his hand for her to be quiet and had continued: “I gave you a chance to speak, and now it is my turn. All young people reach a stage in their lives when they think they can take care of their affairs and don’t need any guidance. They think they know everything and want to throw off all parental control and do as they please. It is our duty as your parents to keep you in order until you are ready to be on your own—when you reach the right age.”
Again she had tried to interrupt to ask what was this “right age” that grown-ups liked to talk about, but he had stopped her by saying that he wanted her to give serious thought to all he had said, and that they would talk again afterwards; and that in the meantime he wanted her to remember that he was the father and she was the child, a relationship that would never change no matter how old she got, abruptly ending the conversation with instructions for Millicent and her to get back to work and as they went about their tasks to take some time to think about their Christian duty.
When he spoke so flippantly about “Christian duty,” she said, she wished she had been brave enough to suggest that he do the same, but was weary of hitting her head against a stone wall and getting nowhere with her father and had done enough fighting for the day.
She told us that she and her sister had separate bedrooms but that later, before they had parted company, Millicent had marvelled at how daring she had been and, even more, how their father had shown such tolerance, not once raising his voice or threaten punishment. She could not believe her sister had fared so well after speaking her mind so openly to their father.
From early childhood she could count on Millicent for consolation and sympathy whenever she had suffered at her father’s hand, yet she herself had always been the soul of docility and cooperation to their parents.
ooo0ooo
Out of the blue her father had admitted at the breakfast table the next morning that he had approached Mrs. Atkins about teaching his elder daughter to sew. She figured that he had begun to think of an occupation for her, and this had been confirmed when he had enquired a little later whether she was interested in teaching. She had quickly denied having the ability to be either a good teacher or seamstress, at which he had advised her to think about what she wanted to do with herself after she left school at the end of the year.
From the looks passing between her father and mother she had sensed that the topic had been under discussion between them and that her recent behaviour had brought things to a head. Of the three professions open to females at that time she felt that she was definitely unsuited for the first two, so, by default, she would probably have to become a nurse.
She confided that what really interested her was anything to do with the farm, but, fearing the ridicule that would greet such an idea, had kept it to herself, meanwhile taking every opportunity to involve herself with the work taking place on the land.
She told my mother that she couldn’t say if her father got tired of fussing with her or decided on new tactics, but the day of reckoning which she had kept anticipating, so as not to be caught off guard, never came.
There had been no great change in their attitude towards each other but they had been able to be more civil. He was the same proud, arrogant and bitter man she knew, and remained so to the end of his days; but she believed he recognized that she genuinely shared his interest in the property, and so began to speak about the work to her, even confiding some of his plans, projects and problems. After a while he introduced her to his system of record-keeping and assigned to her the task of updating these records with information provided by him from time to time.
According to her she believed that they began to appreciate each other’s capabilities more although neither would show it. She says that there was never any doubt in her mind that her father was a brilliant man and that she admired and shared his hunger for knowledge and information. He bought books, journals and magazines of every description and urged his daughters to read and study them; yet, she said, there was something in his or her makeup that kept them at odds with one another all their lives.
When the year ended and she stayed home from school, he began giving her lessons in Math, Language, Geography and History in the evenings, and leave homework for her to do during the daytime. He also found a man to tutor her in the Spanish Language, but whose services were scrapped when he found out that he was a “drunkard,” as he called him. He, who did not drink or smoke, did not allow others around him to do so.
ooo0ooo
One Saturday morning Mr. Stanley had shown up at the house to borrow the pump when she was working on her father’s records in the study and she immediately stood up to leave the room as soon as he appeared. Her father, however, stopped her, saying that he wanted her to hear this. He offered the visitor a seat and, engaging him in conversation, asked how knowledgeable he was in Geography, Mr. Stanley replying that he knew a little.
“Do you know the name of the sea that washes the shores of this country?” he had asked, pointing to the globe on the table. “You mean the Caribbean?” was Mr. Stanley’s confident reply. Mr. Bertram had come back with: “How do you pronounce that word?” Mr. Stanley had repeated: “Caribbean?” “Ah, yes,” had been her father’s rejoinder. Then, speaking informally, he had eased into the following History discussion: “It is not so well known that the Caribbean is named after an indigenous tribe called the ‘Caribs’ – reputed to be fierce warriors! They mixed with Africans brought over to the new world to form the ethnic group known as the ‘Black Caribs,’ who gave the Europeans such a hard time in St. Vincent because they refused to be enslaved! It took a long time and a lot of lives to finally overpower them and deport them to the Bay Islands of Honduras – right below us, here, on this globe, see? From there some of them found their way here in some flimsy vessels – you’ve heard about the famous ‘Carib Craft’ I’m sure – in the early 1800’s, and stayed here ever since then. They were people with a real fighting spirit and they never changed.
“Nowadays they are taking part in building this country – educating the children – you know how many of them are in the teaching profession? – growing food, working hard to advance themselves! You ask many of the young ones, boys and girls – what do you want to be when you grow up? You know what is the answer nine times out of ten? ’Teacher, Sir!’
“Some people in this country like to ridicule them about what they call ‘being too ambitious,’ but that is because some are not used to asserting themselves to get what they want. Many of your countrymen like to wait for things to fall into their laps. But we can learn a lot from the Caribs – they are hard-working, enterprising, and self-reliant. They go after what they want, and there is nothing wrong with that!
“You know, I think the study of History is essential, so we can better understand what is going on around us, can talk facts and not what somebody wants us to believe. We are all sons and daughters of the soil, anyway, and must learn to live in harmony and help one another. So, the father of a half-Carib is always willing to help out the son of an ex-slave. By the way, there’s no such word as ‘Kerobi,’ “he had ended the discussion abruptly, inviting his guest to accompany him to the shed to get the pump.
Matron had learnt from her sister afterwards that Mr. Stanley, vexed with her for not lending him the pump the last time, had been railing up about what the little upstart “half-Kerobi” daughter of Teacher Bertram had done. Someone who had overheard had told this to her father – hence the ambush and history lesson!
She said to Mama: “People often tell me that I’m my father’s daughter and, whether they mean it as a compliment or an accusation, I don’t take things lying down. Actually, I’m proud of his ability to deal with any kind of ‘ignorance’ and am willing to copy him with that.”
(Chapter 4 in next Tuesday’s issue.)