Mama My Hero

I impatiently swung my legs back and forth as I sat in the door of my grandmother's small, five room house. I was itching for the go ahead for me to go outside. I looked back and my grandmother, who sat in a chair near the dining room, was methodically sewing little pink flowers and the word "NASSAU" onto straw change purses. My grandmother didn't work outside the house. Her job was taking care of me and my other cousins while she sewed those straw change purses. My job was to help Mama gather up all the change purses she sewed and put them in large brown paper bags, the ones that came from the grocery store. Aunty Betty, that's my mother's oldest sister, would come to Mama's house at the end the week to collect the bags of change purses to take Down Town to the Straw Market to sell to the straw vendors. That's how Mama made money because she wasn't going to make any money taking care of me. I was more trouble than I was worth or however she used to say it.

Anyway, my three year old self was bored. I really wanted to go outside. I loved being outdoors. There was so much "scope for the imagination". There was the neighbor's well. I liked getting close enough to see down in it. It had lots of tadpoles and frogs that swam around in it. Then there was outside toilet. My grandmother didn't have an inside toilet at the time but I refused to use the outside toilet because I was under the impression that at the bottom of that very deep, very dark hole in the ground was hell. I was afraid that I would fall in the hole and end up in hell. Then there was the other neighbor, Mr. Black. He had a missing finger. I imagined that his missing finger was the result of a cutlass mishap that involved him chopping up little girls. Needless to say I steered clear of Mr. Black.

I was anxious to get outside and find out what I could get into, but Mama hadn't given me the go ahead yet. Finally, she called my name and I looked back at her expectantly. She told me I could go outside. I stood up and jumped from the door all the way to the ground, not bothering to use the three steps.

"Kendy! I told you about jumping out that door!" Mama yelled after me.

"Yes ma'am." I yelled back to her as I ran to the side of the house.

I was outside playing treasure hunt. I imagined that once upon a time pirates roamed the land just outside Mama's house, and, of course, they had left behind some burried treasure that I was hunting for with an imaginary map. Just as I was about to uncover the buried treasure my foot got caught between two rocks. There was no grass in Mama's yard. There were only rocks, lots of rocks. Rocks that I was not supposed to play around. Well, as a child, it was seldom that I listened to anything anyone said to me. So now my little foot was caught between two rocks and for the life of me I couldn't get it out. I tried with all my three-year old might to get my foot loose but I couldn't. Finally, I gave up, and imagined life with one foot. The prospect of being an amputee made me cry, and that's where Mama found me some time later, sitting on the rocks, nearly hyperventilating with my foot caught between those rocks.

Mama looked town at me. I could tell that she was upset with me. She had been calling me for some time, but I was so hysterical I couldn't answer her calls. As soon as she saw my face, though, the look on her cocoa face soften. She mumbled something to herself about me always getting into trouble, and pulled my foot from between the two rocks. Just as as easy as that. I was amazed. I thought my grandmother had to some how be super human like She-Ra or Wonder Woman. She saved my foot. It didn't have to get cut off. I wouldn't have to be an amputee. I flung myself into my grandmother's arms and gave her the biggest hug I could. I had a very nasty gash on my foot, and it stung terribly when Mama put that ugly red medicine on it. I didn't cry, though, and I didn't flinch because although it hurt I figured having my foot cut off would have been one hundred times worse.

From that moment on my grandmother was my hero. She was always getting me out of "situations" because I was a curious child and always found myself in "situations". There was the time my cousins hung my stuffed animal. They killed him! Murderers! My grandmother brought him back to life by sewing his head on. Then, of course, there was the time I was playing in the "wash house". The wash house was this little room on the outside of my grandmother's house where the washing machine was. Well, the room wasn't all the way finished and there were a lot of exposed nails. She told me to stay out of there, but I wanted to know what it looked inside of the washing machine while the clothes were washing. It would be just my luck that my hand got caught on one of those nails. Got another nasty gash. I overheard the adults talking about stitches. Oh Lord no! I was terrified of hospitals. My grandmother responded by saying, "Take her to the beach. The salt water will fix that." So she wrapped my hand up with a red cloth. I believe it may have been an old sock, and off I went to the beach. The salt water was exactly what I needed. Never had to get any stitches.

Today, I share these stories with you about my grandmother (and I can share many more) because if she were alive she would have celebrated her 85th birthday today. I'm not sad any more because she is no longer with us, but I do still miss her at times. Especially when I'm trying to make johnny cake just the way she used to make it.

Mama wasn't rich. She didn't have a lot of material things, but she left behind a legacy that lives on in her children and her grandchildren. I find myself, at times, chewing my tongue the way she used to when she was sewing those straw bags. I do it when I'm concentrating. Some times I'll say something that she used to say and I'll shake my head because I said I would never say that. She influenced me in so many ways, and she will always be my hero.

Kendy Ward