Fly Bird Fly
It was a beautiful Saturday morning in September. The sky was a vibrant blue, and the sun was shining over me and beyond the Pocono Mountains. Our community was located in Pennsylvania but not too far from the city of Brotherly Love. The birds were calling, and the bugs were humming. The seeds of dandelions floated in the warm air. For a long time, my family searched for this type of quietness. One particular blackbird stayed on the fence post. At times, the bird would canvass our land of milk and honey. Sometimes I wished I could fly just like this bird. But Momma would tell me there was another purpose for me. So, to fly was not one of them. Even though Aunt Marie would whisper, “You can do what you want.”
This morning, Aunt Marie sat at the kitchen table and sipped her morning coffee.
“You ready for your baptism, Auntie?” I asked.
“Been ready, baby,” she answered. Her forehead folded dark creases over her dark eyebrows and she slouched over the red and white kitchen table.
“What’s wrong?” I asked and rubbed her full, brown face.
“Nothing for little ones, like you, to worry about.” She stared into my eyes and smiled.
“Faith, get the white towels,” Momma yelled from the living room.
“Yes, ma’am.” I kissed my Aunt on the cheek and rushed past my mom and darted out of the door.
I trucked through the pointed grass and the weeds smacked against my legs. I went straight to the shed in the back of the house.
Father told Aunt Marie, baptism was an outward appearance of a religious commitment to God. The Pastor would read the Bible and ask questions about your belief in God. Once you confirmed your beliefs, the Pastor would have to lay you in the water and lift you up. Once it was done, everyone would sing and celebrate that you took a further step into your religious path. I hadn’t done it yet, but I was looking forward to it. Aunt Marie was the opposite. She rejected the idea, but she changed her mind after some strong convincing from Father. It was a serious thing to do, but a huge celebration in our community. My favorite part of the evening was the good smelling soul food: fried chicken, the sweet syrupy candied yams and the make-you-wanna-dance macaroni and cheese.
When I went inside the shed, I saw my cousin, James, searching inside the plastic bins. He grabbed another plastic bin and with a loud grunt, he slammed it to the ground. Sweat dripped from his face to his bare chest and his cut-up jeans. His frowning face let me know that he was tired of the search for the baptismal items.
“I need a white towel,” I said.
Without a glance towards me, he said, “Chicken legs, take this inside,” and lifted a black towel.
“This isn’t the right towel and stop calling me that!”
James moved some of the clothes inside a green bin and with a boyish grin, “Can’t find it.”
He shoved the black towel into my face. “Take it. It’s a towel.” I snatched it from his hand.
“You’re upset? You have little sticks for legs. God gave them to you.” James went back to his duties.
“Take it to your mom before she has a fit.”
“You can say that again.”
Everything had to be white: the towels, the robes, and the clothes. I guess it just represents purity.
“Is Auntie okay?”
“Guess so,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.
“She seems a bit quiet today.” I held the black towel in my arms like a fluffy stuffed animal.
“That means she’s just thinking about something.”
“Maybe it’s just me?” I pondered.
“What you standing there for? Go,” James said, and he shook his head. “Always day-dreaming.”
I ran back as fast as I could. Chicken legs, chicken legs, played over and over in my head.
I don’t care if they are skinny, they move me just fine.
When I entered the cabin, I heard Momma’s high-pitched voice and the smell of fresh cooked bacon sizzling in the kitchen. I decided to gingerly walk closer to the kitchen.
“Stop talking that stuff, Marie.”
“We honestly could leave,” Aunt Marie’s voice shook. “Maybe in the wee hours in the morning.” The wooden chair creaked when she got up and she swept her slippers across the kitchen floor.
“How?” Momma answered. “We’re being watched.”
“But the kids.” She pleaded. But she continued to flip the bacon in the frying pan. Even in her conversations, Aunt Marie could multi-task.
I had continued to watch and listen to every private word that fell from their lips.
“They don’t deserve to live like this.”
“Where can we go? We can’t mention it to anybody because they will tell.” Mom paced the kitchen floor. “You saw what happened to Brother Thomas. He was beaten half to death.”
Brother Thomas was a loud-mouth man that disrespected Father all the time. Everyone was tired of him threatening Father and trying to feel up on the women and the little girls.
There were some incidents of people being distrustful in our community and Father punished them. But to leave seemed to be extreme.
“Faith!” I felt like I jumped out of my flesh.
“Yes, Momma.”
“Come here this instant.”
I inched into the kitchen with the towel in my hand.
“What did I tell you about being nosey?” she said and looked down at my hands.
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Aunt Marie interjected.
“Stop defending her.” Momma pointed at Aunt Marie. She turned to look back at me. “Do not, I say, do not repeat what you heard. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Give me this.” She snatched the black towel from me. “I said a white towel.” Her eyes grew wide with anger.
“But James told me to give you the towel.”
“If James said to jump off a bridge would you do it?”
“No, ma’am,” I said unamused.
“Fix your tone and get the towel.”
Again, I went out to the shed, but this time, I had moved a little slower.
“James, we need the towel.”
James shot a glance at me and then rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Alright.”
He lifted a blue plastic bin from the top and looked in it. Nothing but clothes. He removed the second plastic bin, scanned the inside but there were only toys. He moved the last plastic bin and with a loud sigh, he lifted the lid.
“Of course, the last one at the bottom,” he said “Here, Faith. I can’t wait for his baptism to be over.” He threw the white towel at me.
I took the white towel and walked out of the shed. I heard a slight crackle on my left. There was a figure hiding next to a tree. The man seemed to be holding something long and black in both his hands, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I don’t think he saw me, but my instincts told me to move along quickly.
I moved faster and headed into the cabin. “Momma, here is the towel.”
She took it and placed it on the green chair in the living room.
“Momma, I thought I saw a man in the woods.”
“Yeah, you might see anything in the woods. Stop being nosey and get ready for the baptism.”
Once everything was settled and everyone was dressed, all of us headed to the lake. The wooded area was secluded from our cabins. The woods gave me peace as we walked on the rocky path which led us to the lake.
“Shoot.” Aunt Marie looked down her dress. “I got a spot on it.”
She reached for the brown spot on the bosom of her white-starched dress.
“It’s okay, Auntie. You are still pure as snow.” I smiled at her and took her hand.
We are marching to Zion, that beautiful, beautiful Zion! The crowd sang as we got closer to the lake. Once we reached the people, the deacons nodded, and we stood separate from the rest. The rest of the congregants stood like flowers along the banks of the lake. Father and his deacons stood statuesque in front of the congregation. Aunt Marie was at the final point to share with us her commitment to her spiritual journey.
Father Lovely’s body reminded me of a willow tree. I swore he could reach a bird. His voice could calm troubles and his movements were swift. He nodded to the deacons. On cue, the deacons in their church suits escorted Aunt Marie to the lake.
“We are gathered here today to support and celebrate Marie Duncan’s commitment. To show a representation of a changed life.”
People shouted and clapped. I smiled and looked at my aunt with pride. But she had a deadness to her eyes I had never seen before. A blank stare and an awkward stance.
“They say you have to really mean it?” James whispered. “If not, you go down like a dry devil and rise up like a wet devil.”
“What?” I asked.
“It means, if you don’t mean it, you go down a dry sinner and rise up as a wet sinner. No true repentance.”
“Oh,” I said. “Auntie means it.”
James leaned into my ear, “Look at her, it’s forced.”
I looked at her again. Aunt Marie had a blank stare.
“So, why is she doing it?” Aunt Marie didn’t do things by force; she was a free spirit.
“Not sure,” he said and put his hand over his eyes to block the sun and look at his mother.
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore, go and make disciples of nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father,” then Father Lovely paused. “Come to the lake, Sister Marie.”
Aunt Marie moved gracefully when she entered the water. Her white clothes were like a train following behind her.
“Marie Duncan, do you honor God?” he said in a low tone.
“Yes,” she said with her head held high.
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“Do you believe I am God?”
Silence fell, and all eyes darted toward her. Aunt Marie looked to the trees, she looked at the crowd, and then, she smiled at me.
“Marie, say yes,” Mom whispered.
Aunt Marie’s eyes lifted to the sky, she pushed her shoulders back, and said, “No.”
People gasped and hissed at her. We have been in this community for a year and have met new friends, which we called family. But at this moment, I understood why Aunt Marie wanted to leave.
Father peered down at her and said, “That is your choice.” He nodded to Deacon Thomas. Thomas was a quiet, stocky man. Whatever Father Lovely requested, Deacon Thomas would do. He walked into the water with the white towel. “Now, we will begin the baptism.”
My heart galloped like a racehorse. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, but I knew it was okay because my aunt smiled at me. Aunt Marie crossed her arms over her chest. Father smiled and gently eased her into the water.
“For the Father,” he said and pushed his hands down in the water. Aunt Marie flipped around like a bird. Deacon Thomas helped Father hold her down in the water.
Her arms continued to flap in the lake for take-off in flight. But she didn’t fly, she didn’t swim, and she didn’t escape.
“Momma,” James yelled.
Armed men came out from the jungle. They surrounded us and held their guns right at people.
The congregants had opened holes for faces. It seemed that everyone was as shocked as we were. “Mom, that’s the guy I saw earlier,” I said and pointed to the strange man.
“Why do we have armed men here?” Momma asked one of the female congregants. The woman looked around and seemed to be as clueless as us.
I moved an inch, but my mother’s nails dig into my shoulders. I looked at her face.
“Close your eyes, Faith,” she commanded.
I closed them. James’ wails echoed from a distance. People hissed and chanted, “Traitor.”
“James, no!” Momma said.
I opened my eyes. James was at the lake. But one of the armed men held a gun and aimed right at him. James came to a complete stop and stood at the edge of the lake.
“Don’t make me do it,” the gunman said.
It was too late to leave the community. We were sworn in without a contract, without a notice and without a way of escape.
Aunt Marie floated like a white cloud in the sky.
“Does anyone have something to say?” Father Lovely voice was intense and his veins pushed out in his neck. He had transformed from a loving man to a monster.
No one said a word. James’ continued cries stabbed my soul. He punched the air when one of the deacons carried him away.
“For the cause!” Father Lovely yelled.
The crowd mumbled amongst themselves. I stared at their faces. Only a few people kept silent, but the idiots that believed in this foolery chanted, “For the cause.”
“Can, we leave? I am scared,” I said. I wanted to leave.
“We can’t right now.”
Some people ran but were stopped by gunshots. I heard a boom-clack sound. A scream. Another boom-clack, and then a crescendo of screams.
“Close your eyes, Faith.”
I couldn’t stop watching the chaos and troubling scene. My eyes stayed on my aunt’s body. All I could do is watch her body float.
“For the cause!” Father repeated.
“For the cause,” Momma chanted with a tear running down her face. “For the cause.” Her nails brushed my scalp. I could taste my salty tears.
The blackbird that stood on the fence post had flown away.
“I wish I could fly away with you,” I whispered. I tilted my head and stared at my mother.
“Why would God be a part of this?”
Mom whispered, “God isn’t a part of this.” With tears in her eyes, she said, “He never was and never will be.”
