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(Alabama. R.P. Tartt, Jack Kytle, Livingston?)
Charity Grigsby lives in a tumbledown shanty about nine miles from Livingston on the old Epes road. She wassewing on a quilt when I arrived; humming an old plantation song that ran:
Angels in de water, walkin' by de light;Fo' sinners stand in darkness an' cannot see de light!
A broad smile flowed across her black face as I entered the cabin. She placed her needle aside, exclaimed: "Law me,honey, I's always proud when de white folks drap aroun'; an' dat's directly so."
"Charity," I said, "I want you to tell me about slavery times"
She lowered her head in thought a moment, said: "Honey, what would I tell?"
"Just all you remember, Charity."
And this is what she told: "Honey, I was borned Charity Grigsby, but I married Nelson Brigory; ain't much'stinguish in de names; but 'twuz a little. My pa was Dan'l Grigsby an' my mammy was Mary Moore. See, usbelowred to Cl' Mister Jim Moore right up yonder 'bove Sumterville at Ramsey Station.
"You goes up de Gainesville an' Livingston Road an' turns off de cross road 'bout nine miles from Livingston. Denyou goes west. It ain't far from dere; bout six miles, I reckons. Ain't no big plantation; 'bout a dozen of us dere; an'Marse Jim didn' have no overseer lak de rest. He had dem boys of his'n what read to, us. Dey was John an' Williaman' Jim. Dey was all tol'able good to us; but dey would whoop us if we wasn't 'bedient; jes' like a mother raisin' awhile.
"I can't say how old I is; it's done got away from me; but I was a stroppin' gal durin' de war. I knows I's eighty-fivean' I 'spects I's more dan dat. I's de mammy of 'leven chilluns; I knows dat; but ain't but five of dem a-livin'. As youknows, I lives wid two of dem; Mattie an' Evie. Dey treats me good. Hattie an' Ellen an' my boy lives in Bessemer.Dat is all my individual chilluns, out I's got a few others. I don't recollect much to tell; been a good while since dewar; but when you calls it to my 'memberance I can think it up.
"Honey, dem nigger dogs; dey sho' did run. Sometimes dey kotched a nigger, but dey didn't never run me. I was inde house weavin' an' spinnin' lak mistus showed me; an' I didn't never get in no trouble wid nobody.
"An' den again, Marse Jim was purty tol'able good to us, but Mr. Ervin Lavendar was sho' mean to his niggers, an'his plantation ain't far from our'n. He had a pack of dogs what run de niggers; an' dem was skeery times, I tell you.Us didn't l'arn no schoolin' nor go nowhere nor have no corn shuckin' nor nothin'; jes' 'quired to stay in de cabins. Ihyared 'bout Bre'r Rabbit an' hoodoo; but I sever takes up no time wid dat foolishness; never seed no sense in it. Usgot on all right 'thout dat.
"Some of de other niggers 'sides me was all de time in trouble, though. Mr. Fulton, who lived clost to Mr. Lavender,had a nigger river an' overseer name Sanders, an' I bet he was de meanest one of for all. You know, honey, deyplanted wheat fields in de fall in dem days an' cut it in de spring. It would come off in time 'nuff to make corn.
"Dere was a flock of birds lak blackbirds; only dey was wheat birds; an' dey went in droves an' fly way up yonder.Us had planks to slap together to keep de birds out er de wheat, because dey et it up.
"Well'm, one day Mr. Sanders tol' one of de women what was one of de sucklers on de place, dat if she wouldn't dowhat he axed her to dey was a black coffin over her haid. She 'fused him; so when he was loadin' his gun dere in dewheat fiel', he was holdin' de gun barrel propped under his chin, jes' so, and de other end settin' on de ground. Wellsir, it went off an' he killed hisse'f stid of 'st sucklin' woman; an' dat was a awful time, 'ca'se de niggers got skeeredan' run, an' dey sot Mr. Lavendar's pack of nigger dogs on 'em. De dogs kotched some an' chewed 'em nigh 'bout todeath. It warn' none of us, but it were close.
"Us laid low, didn't go out nowhere. Us wasn't 'lowed to; couldn't go to prayer meetin' or nothin'.
"You ax what dat song I singin' when you come? Dat wasall of it, an' dat's 'nuff fer me, 'ca'se it's true. What deygwine to be no mo' fer? Jes':
Angels in de water, walkin' by de light;Po' sinners stan' in darkness an' cannot see de light.
'I Son' want no mo' myse'f; jes' dat; dat's all. How come you wants some mo'? Don't dat much satisfy you? Buthoney, de sun settin' low an' my chilluns will soon be comin' from de swamps. Ain't no bread cooked fer 'em. I'll tellyou some mo' when I gets my mind on it, 'ca'se it's been a good while since de war.
"Yas'm, us has 'nuff to eat; but if us could get anymore, us would lak it. You know how 'tis; can make out widmighty little. us eats greens; lookin' forwards to ross'in years comin' in."
(R.L.D., 1-12-37)
