The Polished Hoe Read Online Free Page B

Israelites walking miles and miles over the hard, scorch earth, crossing the Arabian Desert . . . is it the Arabian Desert, or the Sahara . . . crossing the Sahara; and all those rock-stones and cracks in the ground and in their feet, just like how the ground here in Bimshire gets hard and dry when the sun come out following a downpour of rain. And I would catch myself in these daydreams and fantasies, far-far from that little Sunday School classroom, at the back of the church, travelling miles and miles away from this Island of Bimshire. Picturing myself in foreign countries, in Europe and in Germany— even during the War—in Rome-Italy, living like a N’Eyetalian countessa, dress in a white gown, a robe edged in silver and gold piping; and with goblets of wine, and bowls of grapes and olives, laid out before me; and I am reclining, as I see Eyetalian countessas nowadays, in some of the magazines my son subscribes to, recline.
    “I had some fantastic daydreams and fantasies, in those days, Constable!
    “And sometimes at night, sitting down here in this front-house studying my head; and listening to Wilberforce talk about his travels, the Danube, the river, so blue; crossing the Alps in a aeroplane coming from Rome-Italy, the place which made him think of ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’; Austria and Vienna, where they can dance the waltz, and the polka in Poland, so nice; and throughout the whole night! Englund and even Scotland, after which I got my name, Mary, from one of their mad Queens. All those places I visited in my dreams and fantasies, while studying, while listening to my son, Wilberforce.
    “However, I had visited those places in daydreams, even before I gave birth to Wilberforce!
    “But I never visited Latin-Amurca. Nor any place in the Wessindies. And I wonder why?
    “I won’t tell you, since you are nothing but a boy, where exactly on my dress, on my person, I carried that wishbone! But I held on to it, as if I expected a full-grown Bardrock pullet to spring-up from that lil wishbone, and grace our dinner table, every Sunday after that first Sunday, for Ma and me, until I became a woman and could provide more better.
    “And every day, in all that time, ten or maybe eleven years, I made a wish on that wishbone; a wish never-ever to forget Mr. Bellfeels; and how he moved the riding-crop over my entire body, as if he was taking off my clothes, and then taking off my skin. And every time my hand touch that wishbone I take a oath to myself to never to forget to give him back.
    “Can I ask you a question, Constable, before I stray more farther? It’s a personal question.”
    “You could axe me any question; or anything, ma’am. I hold it as a privilege if you cross-examine me.”
    “Before I ask. That bell. On the table, touch it for me. Let’s see what Gertrude is up to. She’s too quiet . . . Thank you, Constable.”
    “I touch the bell.”
    “Thanks. The personal question. Do you attend Church?”
    “You mean if I goes to Church? Or if I belongst to a particular ’nomination, or congregation?..Well, the answer is part o’ both. What I mean by that is this. I goes to Church, but on Easters mainly. And then, Christmas, for the five o’clock service in the morning. Or if somebody that I know dead. Or pass away. Or, or if a friend o’ mine is getting henged, meaning getting married, and . . .”
    “You know God, then, don’t you, Constable?”
    “I really and truly don’t know, ma’am, if I know God. Or if God know me. I don’t know God in the way I getting to know you, though, ma’am. I don’t know if I should know God more better, or less better than I knowing you. We was never that close, meaning God and me.
    “The only other thing I could say in regards to knowing God, is that I learned about God in elementary school. Every afternoon at Sin-Davids Elementary School for Boys, we had oral Scripture. That is where I went-school.
    “You may not remember this, ma’am, but I uses to