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(Conecuh County, AL)
Far back from the roadside, on an old plantation, are four one room cabins, exactly alike. On the porch of each cabin, a wild ros climbs, while up the sides of the great old chimney fashioned of re brick and clay, the ivy has crept through many long years. Before each door, to the right of the walk, are old-fashioned flower beds with red and yellow cannas far center.
On the porches are rows of old tomatoe cans, and small tin buckets, varying in shape, each holding a growing plant. Between the flower beds, the ground is swept clean, as clean as the walk, bordered by split bricks, points upwards, that leads from the little lane to the doors. Here the likeness ends, for the inmates of the cabins are by no means alike.
The first cabin belongs to old Aunt Rachel, who has lived there so long the count has been lost. For the past six years, Zach, her grandson "no count ceptin' ter eat", has been with her, and is at on and the same time her comfort and her "ondoing".
In appearance, Aunt Rachel looks like the original Mammy advertising a certain brand of pancake flour. She "feels her keepin' caz she knows she's quality folk, and none of dem low-lived niggers." She "wuks" her little patch of ground, gets her clothes and her cabin from the white folks, for whom she "wuks endurin' de time she feels lak wukin', an' neber when de misery coch her in de back."
Aunt Rachel is the finest of cooks, a wonderful nurse, and a bit of a philosopher. She is also "a little keerless" when it come to the ownership of victuals. She will "borrow" meal, flour, meat, and sugar, and then when chance presents itself, she will "borrow" from the same pantry to "pay hit back." She often says "When you fin' a nigger what won't steal victuals when he's hongry, you'll find hair growing in the palm of dat nigger's han'."
Sometimes she send Zach to do the borrowing, but Zach seldom remembers anything "ceptin' time ter eat". One morning she sent him to the big house to borrow some Baking powder. As usual, when he got there, he forgot the article for which he was sent, but he did remember for what it was to be used. Knowing what he would get if he came back without it, he said, "My Gran-Mammy sent me up hyah, Miss Alice, to git sum of dat dare stuff whut makes de biscuits git a humph on dey selves." Later on, when they told Aunt Rachel about the incident, she looked at Zach with a withering scorn, saying "Dat's more'n you ever do---git a humph on yo self." But Zach has learned when to keep away, and when to appear on deck.
Aunt Elviry, who "Casionally stays wid Rachel", that is when she caint stan her "relations" any longer, has the reputation of being a coiner of words, to express her meaning. A "rewottle" is a dish made from left overs. A "doomy" child, is one who is not right bright, while a "princeful" person is one who "thinks mighty well o' hisself." Aunt Elviry makes patchwork quilts, but under no conditions would she make a silk quilt, for "den her luck wud be gone fer good."
Simple-hearted, superstitious, and in a way, religious, they are a queer combination, their true side being hidden from the stranger.
But, in the lone watches of the night, when one of "their white folk is ill, it is old Aunt Rachel, and Aunt Elviry who sit beside the bedside during the long, lone hours of the night, taking turn and to about, anticipating every want, comforting by their very presence. Intuitively they seem to know how to cool the fever, or break the chill; to brew the mixture to stop the cough, or "kill" the cold. A it is they, too, who know how better than any one else to fix the tempting tray, with its restorative broths.
No one ever hears them say they are tired no matter how lingerl the illness, or how much extra work is incurred, sometimes when the trained nurse is called, for as long as they are needed, there they will stay, faithful, loving, kind and true.
They have their own place in the sun, these old Aunt Rachels and Aunt Elvireys, soon to be seen no more.
