Davis - History of African Americans: Exploring Diverse Roots

TARANAKI, 4 MARCH 1860

I sla McKinnon was bleeding to death. She had reached up to peg a pair of her fathers breeks onto the frayed washing line when suddenly shed been doubled over by a sharp, dragging sensation in her belly. Like an urge to move her bowels, but much, much worse.

Screwing up her face against the grinding discomfort, shed hurried across the sun-baked back yard to the privy at the end of the garden. Inside, leaving the door ajar to let in some light, shed pulled her drawers aside and sat on the worn wooden seat. Nothing had happened, but when shed glanced down, her heart had given a single violent thud at the sight of the sinister dark smudges on her inner thighs. Tearing off a strip of newspaper, shed blotted herself, squeaking with fright when the paper came away stained red with thick, stringy blood.

She sat, now, a hand pressed over her pounding heart. Only fourteen years old and she was dying, bleeding from some terrible internal malady she hadnt even known she had!

She forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. Then she stood, dropping the bloody paper into the privy, and stepped out into the bright sunshine. Fighting the urge to race into the house to tell her mam, she made herself walk calmly through the wilted vegetable garden until she reached the back porch, where she paused to remove her boots.

Inside, her mothera handsome, fair-haired woman whose years of labouring on the family croft had aged her face and hands beyond her thirty-five yearssat at the table peeling potatoes for the midday meal.

Have ye hung oot the washing already? That wis quick, Agnes McKinnon exclaimed. She regarded her daughter fondly, but when she saw Islas pale, shocked face, her heart lurched with fear. What is it? Whats happened?

Isla sat gingerly on one of the mismatched dining chairs, wondering how to say it so she wouldnt frighten the life out of her mother. In the end she blurted, I think Im poorly, Mam, and burst into tears.

Agnes dropped her knife into the tattie bowl and hurried around the table, stooping to peer into Islas face. Is it a pain ye have? Or are ye sick tae the stomach?

Isla clamped a hand over her abdomen. A pain. In ma belly. ImIm bleeding, Mam!

Have ye cut yesel? Agnes, alarmed now, tried to pull Islas hand away to see.

No on ma belly, Mam, Isla wailed. From it. Im bleedingdoon there!

Ah. Agnes straightened, the furrows across her brow relaxing. Have ye a sore back as well?

Isla nodded hesitantly, wondering fearfully what that could mean.

And sore teats?

Aye.

Then dinnae greet, mo leannan. Agnes gently swept a stray lock of Islas heavy, pale gold hair back from her face. Yeve started your courses, is all. She blinked quickly several times and gave a small, sad smile. Ma first bairn, growin up already!

Embarrassed by her navet, Isla couldnt meet her mothers eye. Her mam had explained to her a year ago what happened when a girl became a woman, but Isla hadnt much thought about it since. And she certainly hadnt expected such an alarming demonstration of the fact when her time did come.

Agnes stroked her daughters silky hair. Dinnae be upset. Come on, come wi me.

Isla followed her into the small bedroom her parents shared, and waited while her mother rummaged through the top drawer of the rimu chest her husband had made for her. Above it hung a fancy mirror hed brought back from New Plymouth one day last year: it was the only new, shop-bought piece of furniture Agnes had ever owned, and Isla knew she was very proud of it.

Agnes handed Isla a tidy bundle of towelling rags, and explained: Ye fold one o these four or five times and set it between your legs. She then gave Isla a cloth belt and a long strip of cheesecloth. Then ye put on the belt, tie one end o the cheesecloth tae the back o it, pass it between your legs and tie it tae the belt at the front. Like a sling. That keeps the rag in place, ken?

Isla nodded, even though it sounded rather complicated to her.

And ye change the rag for a fresh one when yeve the need, Agnes finished.

But how long does it go on? The bleeding?

Aboot five or six days. Agnes slid the drawer shut. And then its back a month later and every month for the rest o your life, more or less. Unless youre expecting a bairn, o course. Or nursing one. She pointed to the belt in Islas hands. Dye want me tae help ye put it on?

Isla said no and, sensing her embarrassment, Agnes said, Ill leave ye tae it, then.

Isla fiddled about for some time before she was satisfied with the arrangement, then self-consciously took a few steps, the wad of towelling between her legs feeling bulky and strange. She peered into the wall mirror at the pale hair, wide cornflower-blue eyes, short straight nose and curved lips that her da said were so pretty, but that she thought were all rather ordinary compared with her mothers striking features. Furthermore, she noted disappointedly, she didnt look any more like a woman than she had yesterday.

Are ye all right, then? Agnes asked when Isla finally reappeared.

Aye. Ill just finish hanging oot the washing, shall I?

Aye, and then can ye call them weans in? Dinner will be ready soon, Agnes said. Then she added, Youre a good lassie, Isla, ye really are.

Isla flushed with pleasure. She was still smiling to herself as she hung the last garment on the line, happy because she was becoming a woman, and happier still that she wasnt dying of some awful sickness after all. She left the cane washing basket in the sun to air, then set off towards the stream that ran across one corner of her das small farm in search of her younger brother and sister.

As she had suspected, they were both there, half-concealed behind a stand of cabbage trees and playing farther away from the house than they were supposed to without supervision. Jamie and Jean were six-year-old twins, both round-faced, copper-haired and blue-eyed, and fair wee trials, according to their mother. Laddie, the family dog, was with them: Jamie was throwing a stick off the high bank above the stream, and he and Jean were shrieking with laughter as Laddie hurled himself into the air after it, then crashed down into the water with an almighty splash.

Laddie was a black-and-tan short-haired collie, who, according to all the McKinnons, possessed a level of intelligence not normally found in the average dog. Islas father, Donal, had purchased him as a pup in Scotland and reared him as a working dog, and the whole family had been heartbroken when they had had to sell him to a neighbouring crofter before they emigrated to New Zealand. So heartbroken, in fact, that early in the morning of the day they left for Campbeltown, Donal McKinnon had crept across the fields to the neighbours cottage and taken back the dog, leaving the money the man had paid on his doorstep. Laddie had been very unhappy cooped up in a small pen on the ships deck for months, and expensive to feed, but they all agreed it had been worth it.

Mamll tan your hide if she sees ye doing that, Isla said benignly.

Shell no see us if ye dinnae tell her, Jamie said, accepting the stick from a dripping Laddie, the dogs furiously wagging tail scattering droplets of water far and wide.

Well, youre tae come in, dinners ready soon.

Are Niel and Da back yet? Jean asked eagerly. There were streaks of mud on her face and pinafore, her hair had fallen out of its ribbon, and her stockings and boots were soaked. But she was too excited to care: her father usually took his dinner with him when he worked on the farm, so it was always a treat when he came home in the middle of the day.