On that fateful day, she noticed a stranger was watching her from a distance, but she tried to ignore his incessant stare. Finally, she could not bear it any longer. She was embarrassed by him, but also overcome with pity for his hopeless attempts to be friendly. Her flawless black skin and eyes that shone brightly made this tall stranger want to get to know her. She watched him move. There was something of a mystery in him, combined with a gentleness that made her heart reach out. She bit her lip; how could she start a conversation when she didn’t know him?
Then, in that instant, he turned and caught her eye; before she could turn away with shyness, a genuine grin spread across his face, turning it from handsome into divine. She coughed, cleared her throat, and said loud enough for him to hear without looking up, “Wah, mek yuh a stare.”
He replied, “Mi jus a luk gud gyal.”
Neva did not answer and decided to leave and go back home. Some days later, she was aware that she encountered the stranger each time she went down to the stream. He was a tall, middle-aged male, dignified, with a quiet manner and a noticeable presence.
That day, he was dressed in white, stringed vest and canvas trousers. He would stare at Neva, tell her he liked what he was seeing. She wondered, was he really who he said he was? She learnt his name was Morris. The more time she spent with him, the more she grew to like him. He would buy her little gifts and shower her with compliments. She could not quite believe this big Morris, more than double her age, really liked her. Was it love or lust? Was she even old enough to know what love or lust was? They regularly sat on the riverbank, talking for hours about nothing. The days became months. Her openness to the thought of loving and being loved, she questioned in her child-like manner
Neva had this child-like innocence; it was her tool for dealing with the uncertainty and insecurity of life. One day Neva felt a terrible, brutal boob pain. They felt swollen and so painful that she did not even want to put a bra on. Everything smelt disgusting. The most blatant offender was hair. The memory of the smell would haunt her all day, and she would vomit about it later. Other, more minor sources of disgusting smells included, but were not limited to coffee, meat, cigarettes, basements, her dog, olive oil. Even ideas had aromas; they were disgusting.
Morris noticed her fragile condition and deduced that Neva could be pregnant. He asked her, “Yuh period nuh come yet?” Neva paused and was embarrassed by the question. She needed time to digest what Morris was saying. As the weeks passed and her belly began to swell, Morris had no doubt she was with child, and he decided they were going to keep the baby. The only thing was … they never had sex. Beyond these things, in my view, Neva was charming, because she possessed something that adults have all lost – the quality of innocence. With this innocence, Neva had no concept that the playful and loving interactions she had experienced with Morris were sexual.
A ‘loss of innocence’ is often seen as an integral part of coming of age. But Neva was still a child to me …
This is my own particular recollection of this, so that is why I write they never had sex. This is my mother; this is what I want to believe. And though the life lessons presented to Morris might seem harsh to even an adult, he manned up and took it all in his stride.
Neva was the oldest sibling. She had two sisters and one brother. She had been prepared both at school and at home for her role in life by her mother, whose name was Gertrude, affectionately known as Neh-neh. With little money, Gertrude took pleasure and pride in looking after her home and family to the best of her ability. There was a baby on the way and Neva lived with her mother, but she was terrified to tell her, because she knew that her mother would think that she had screwed up her life forever. They decided they would not tell.
Keeping her pregnancy, a secret was the only way she would be able to keep her baby. She could not bring herself to tell her family or friends. She was utterly paralysed with fear over their reactions. Neva was sensitive, and the thought of people screaming at her because she was ruining her life was too much to handle. Keeping them from physically noticing was easy: she wore baggy clothes to hide her (still small) growing bump. [An extract from Dignity by JN Blackwood – All Rights Reserved JN Blackwood 2022]