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Florida

Anderson, Josephine

"I kaint tell nothin bout slavery times cept what I heared folks talk about. I was too young to remember much but I recleck seein my gramma milk do cows an do de washin. Granpa was old, as dey let him do light work, mostly fish an hunt.

"I doan member nothin bout my daddy. He died when I was a baby. My stepfather was Stephen Anderson, an my mammy's name was Dorcas. He come fun Verginny, but my mammy was borned an raised in Wilmington. My name was Josephine Anderson fore I married Willie Jones. I had two half-brothers younger'n me, John Henry an Ed, an a half-sister, Elsie. De boys had to mind de calves an sheeps, an Elsie nursed de missus' baby. I done de cookin, mosly, an helped my mammy spin.

"I was only five year old when dey brung me to Sanderson, in Baker County, Florida. My stepfather went to work for a turpentine man, makin barrels, an he work at dat job till he drop deed in de camp. I reckon he musta had heart disease.

"I doan recleck ever seein my mammy wear shoes. Even in de winter she go barefoot, an I reckon cold didn't hurt her feet no more'n her hands an face. We all wore dresses made o' homespun, De thread was spun an de cloth wove right in our own home. My many as granmammy an me done it in spare time.

"My weddin dress was blue--blue for true. I thought it was de prettiest dress I ever see. We was married in de court-house, an dat be a mighty happy day for me. Moa folks dam days got married by layin a broom on de floor an jumpin over it. Dat seals de marriage, an at de same time brings em good luck.

"Ya see brooms keeps hants away. When mean folks dies, de old debbil sometimes doan want em down dere in de bad place, so he makes witches out of em, an sends em back. One thing bout witches, dey gotta count everthing fore dey can git across it. You put a broom acrosst your door at night an old witches gotta count ever straw in dat broom fore she can come in.

"Some folks can jes nachly see hants better'n others. Teeny, my gal can. I reckon das cause she been borned wid a veil--you know, a coul, sumpin what be over some babies' faces when dey is borned. Folks borned wid a caul can see sperrits, an tell whats gonna happen fore it comes true.

"Use to worry Teeny right smart, seein sperrits day an night. My husban say he gonna cure her, so he taken a grain o' corn an put it in a bottle in Teeny's bedroom over night. Don he planted it in de yard, an driv plenty sticks roun de place. When it was growin good, he put leaf-mold roun de stalk, an watch it ever day, an tell us don't nobody touch de stalk. It raise three big ears o' corn, an when dey was good roastin size he pick em off an cook em an tell Teeny eat ever grain offen all three cobs. He watch her while she done it, an she ain never been worried wid hants no more. She sees em jos the same, but dey doan bother her none.

"Fuat time I ever knowed a hant to come into our quarters was when I was jes big nough to go out to parties. De game what we use to play was spin de plate. Ever time I think on dat game it gives me de shivers. One time there was a strange young man come to a party where I was. Said he name Richard Groon, an he been takin care o' horses for a rich man what was gonna buy a plantation in dat county. He look kinda slick an dressed-up--diffunt from de rest. All do gale begin to cast sheep's eyes at him, an hope he gonna choose dem when dey start playin games.

"Pretty soon dey begin to play spin de plate an it come my turn fust thing. I spin it an call out 'Miater Green!' He jumps to de middle o' do ring to grab de plate an 'Bang'--bout four guns go off all at once, an Mister Green fall to de floor plum dead shot through de head.

"Fore we knowed who done it, de sheriff an some more men jump down from de loft, where dey been hidin an tell us quit hollerin an don't be scairt. Dis man be a bad desper--you know, one o' them outlaws what kills folks. He some kinda foreigner, an jes tryin make b'lieve he a niggah, so's they don't find him.

"Well we didn't feel like playin no more games, an f'ever after dat you couldn't git no niggahs to pass dat house alone atter dark. Dey say de place was hanted, an if you look through de winder any dark night you could see a man in dere spinnin de plate.

"I sho didn't never look in, cause I done seen more hants already dan I ever wants to see agin. One night I was goin to my grandy's house. It was jes comin dark, an when I got to de crick an start across on de foot-log, dare on de other and o' dat log was a man wid his haid cut off an layin plum over on his shoulder. He look at me, kinda pitiful, an don't say a word--but I closely never waited to see what he gonna talk about. I pure flew back home. I was so scairt I couldn't tell de folks what done happened till I set down an got my breath.

"Nother time, not so long ago, when I live down in Gary, I be walkin down de railroad track soon in de mornin an fore I knowed it, dere was a white man walkin long side o' me. I jes thought it were somebody, but I wadn't sho, so I turn off at de fust street to git way from dere. De nex mawnin I be goin to work at de same time. It were kinda forgy an dark, so I never seen nobody till I mighty nigh run into dis same man, an dere he goes, bout half a step ahead o' me, his two hands restin on his be-hind.

"I was so close up to him I could see him plain as I see you. He had fingernails dat long, all cleaned an polished. He was tell, an had on a derby hat, an stylish black clothes. When I walk slow he slow down, an when I stop, he stop, never once, lookin roun. My feets make a noise on de cinders tween de rails, but he doan make a mite o' noise. Dat was de fust thing got me scairt, but I figger I better find out for she iffen he be a spirit; so I say, gook an loud: 'Lookee here, Mister, I jes an old colored woman, an I known my place, an I wisht you wouldn't walk wid me counta what folks might say.'

"He never looked roun no more an if I wan't there, an I cut my eyes roun to see if there is somebody I can holler to for help. When I looked back he was gone; gone, like dat, without makin a sound. Don I knowed he be a hant, an do nex day when I tell somebody bout it dey say he be de gemmen what got killed at de crossin a spell back, an other folks has seen him jus like I did. Dey say dey can hear babies cryin at do trestle right near dere, an ain't nobody yit ever found em.

"Dat ain de any hant I ever seen. One day I go out to de smokehouse to git a meal o' taters. It was after sundown, but still purty light. When I gits dere de door be unlocked an a big man standin half inside. 'What you doin stealin our taterat' I hollers at him, an pow! He gone, jes like dat. Did I git back to dat housel We mighty glad to sat grits an cornbread dat night.

"When we livin at Tituaville, I see my old mammy comin up de road jus as plain as day. I stan on de porch, fixin to run an meet her, when all of a sudden she be gone. I begin to cry an tell de folks I ain't gonna see my mammy agin. An she nuff. I never did. She die at Sanderson, back in nest Florida, fore I got to see her.

"Does I b'lieve in witches? S-a-a-y, I knows more bout em dan to jes 'blieve'--I been rid by on. Right here in die house. You ain never been rid by a witch! Well, you mighty lucky. Dey come in de night, ginnery soon after you drop off to sleep. Dey put a bridle on your head, an a bit in your mouth, an a saddle on your back. Den dey take off their skin an hang it up on de wall. Den dey git on you an some nights dey like to ride you to death. You try to holler but you kaint, counta the iron bit in your mouth, an you feel like somebody holdin you down. Dan dey ride you back home an into your bed. When you hit de bed you jump an grub de kivers, an de witch be gone, like dat. But you know you been rid mighty hard, cause you all wet wid sweat, an you feel plum tired out.

"Some folks say you jus been dreamin, counta do blood stop circulating in your back. Shucks! Day ain never been rid by a witch, or dey sin sayin dat.

"Old witch doctor, he want ten dollars for a place o' string, what he say some kinda charm words over. Tells me to make a image o' dat old witch cots dough, an tie dat string roun its neck; den when I bake it in de oven, it swell up an de magic string shet off her breath. I didn't have no ten dollar, so he say iffen I git up five dollar he make me a hand--you know, what collored folks calls a jack. Dat be a charm what will keep de witches away. I knows how to make on, but day doan do no good thout de magic words, an I doan know den. You take a little pinch o' dried snake skin an some graveyard dirt, an some red pepper an a lock o' your hair wrapped roun some black rooster feathers. Den you spit whiskey on en an wrap em in red flannel an saw it into a boll bout dat big. Den you hang it under your right armpit, an aver week you give it a drink o' whiskey, to keep it strong an pow'ful.

"Dat keep de witches fun ridin y u; but nary one o' dese charkas work wid dis old witch. I got a purty good idee who she is, an she got a charm powerfuller dan both of dem. But she kaint git acrost flaxseed, not till she count ever seed. You don't blieve dat! Huh! I reckon I knows--I done tried it out. I gits me a lil bag o' pure fresh flaxseed, an I sprinkle it all roun de bed; don I put some on top of no mattress, an under de shoot. Dan I goes to bed an sleeps like a baby, an dat old witch doan bother me no more.

"Ony once. Soon's I wake up, I light me a lamp an look on de floor an dere, side o' my bed was my dress, layin right over dat flaxseed, so's she could walk over on de dress, big as life. I snatch up de broom on throw it on de bed; den I go to sleep, an I ain never been bothered no more.

"Some folks reads de Bible backwards to keep witches fum ridin em, but dat doan do me no good, cause I kaint read. But flaxseed work so good I doan be studyin night-ridin witches no more."

(FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT, American Guide, (Negro Writers' Unit), Jacksonville, Florida, Rachel A. Austin Field Worker, Complete, 2, 616 Words, 11 Pages, Slave Interview, 27 Oct 1936, John A. Simms Editor)

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