Boxing Sinn Sage Skw
Cora Devries
When any of the women of the natives is delivered, she goes immediately to the water and washes herself and the infant; she then comes home and lies down, after having disposed her infant in the cradle, which is about two feet and a half long, nine inches broad and half a foot deep, being formed of straight pieces of cane bent up at one end, to serve for a foot or stay.
When the boys are about 12 years of age, they give them a bow and arrows proportioned to their strength, and in order to exercise them they tie some hay, about twice as large as the fist, to the end of a pole about 10 feet high. He who brings down the hay receives the prize from an old man who is always present: the best shooter is called the young warrior, the next best is called the apprentice warrior, and so on of the others, who are prompted to excel more by sentiments of honour than by blows.
If any of their young people happen to fight, which I never saw nor heard during the whole time I resided in their neighborhood, they threaten to put them in a hut at a great distance from their nation, as persons unworthy to live among others; and this is repeated to them so often, that if they happen to have had a battle, they take care never to have another. I have already observed that I studied them a considerable number of years; and I never could learn that there were ever any disputes or boxing matches among either their boys or men.
As the children grow up, the fathers and mothers take care each to accustom those of their own sex to the labors and exercises suited to them, and they have no great trouble to keep them employed; but it must be confessed that the girls and the women work more than the men and the boys. These last go to a hunting and fishing, cut the wood, the smallest bits of which are carried home by the women; they clear the fields for corn, and hoe it; and on days when they cannot go abroad they amuse themselves with making, after their fashion, pick-axes, oars, paddles and other instruments, which once made last a long while. The women on the other hand have their children to bring up, have to pound the maize for the subsistence of the family, have to keep up the fire and to make a great many utensils, which require a good deal of work and last but a short time, such as their earthen ware, their matts, their clothes and a thousand other things of that kind.
The boys and girls, from the time they are three years of age, are called out every morning by an old man, to go to the river; and here is some more employment for the mothers who accompany them thither to teach them to swim. Those who can swim tolerable well make a great noise in winter by beating the water in order to frighten away the crocodiles, and keep themselves warm.
The reader will have observed that most of the labor and fatigue falls to the share of the women; but I can declare that I never heard them complain of their fatigues, unless of the trouble their children gave them, which complaint arose as much from maternal affection as from any attention that the children required. The girls from their infancy have it instilled into them, that if they are sluttish or unhandy they will have none but a dull awkward fellow for their husband; I observed in all the nations I visited, that this threatening was never lost upon the young girls.
I would not have it thought, however, that the young men are altogether idle. Their occupations indeed are not of such a long continuance; but they are much more laborious. As the men have occasion for more strength, reason requires that they should not exhaust themselves in their youth; but at the same time they are not exempted from those exercises that fit them for war and hunting. The children are educated without blows; and the body is left at full liberty to grow, and to form and strengthen itself with their years.
They have still, I allow, a great deal of more spare time than the women; but this is not all thrown away. As these people have not the assistance of writing, they are obliged to have recourse to tradition, in order to preserve the remembrance of any remarkable transactions; and this tradition cannot be learned but by frequent repetitions; consequently many of the youths are often employed in hearing the old men narrate the history of their ancestors, which is thus transmitted from generation to generation. In order to preserve their traditions pure and uncorrupt, they are careful not to deliver them indifferently to all their young people, but teach them only to those young men of whom they have the best opinion.
And that, my dear grandchildren, is how my father became known as Kitteneye. Although the name written in the Good Book was Isom B. Slone, he was to be stuck with the name Kitteneye all his born days.
Ouida taught me the important differences between a white lie and a black one. She showed me how to notch a sweet gum tree and make chewing gum from the sap, and how to make a toothbrush from blackgum twigs; how to recognize and use rabbit tobacco; how to cause a mean dog to turn tail by running toward it, opening and closing an umbrella.
Her reprimands were usually sufficient to keep me in line, but now and then it took a shove or slap on the rump, or a rap on the head with her sharp, bony little knuckles. She never allowed anyone else to touch me outside of a fair fight. She reserved that right for herself.
My sister was on the floor, sewing together some bits of cloth for a quilt covering. When I had eaten to the point where the sausage expired and the bread continued, I threw the remaining crescent shaped crust into the fire. The explosion that erupted from my sister, that sage of tender years, would not have been greater had the bread been TNT.
I had just turned eight; my sister Wardelle was not quite seven. Then there were three-year-old Jewel and Mickey, who was not quite two. My older sister Erdean was grown and married, and living in Lousiville, too far away to help us much.
Wardelle was my helper. Sometimes we would get to playing and forget the beans that were cooking. They would burn and stick to the bottom of the big iron pot. If we noticed in time, we would throw the whole lot out and start over. But often we just had to scrape off the good beans, clean the pot and heat them back up. Dad hated his beans scorched worse than anything.
Washing dishes seemed to take us forever. Wardelle and I could never agree on whose turn it was to wash and who was supposed to dry. One day we got so mad at each other that Wardelle threw a fork at me. We realized we had to work something out. We agreed that one would wash as fast as she could while the other ran five laps around the smokehouse. Then we would switch. This helped turn the long chore into a race.
1960: Daddy forbade me to take the New Testament Bible class that was part of the junior high curriculum, so I stayed in homeroom and mastered yet to-be-uttered words like eleemosynary and pterodactyl for local spelling bees. I began to savor the prospect of being a heathen. With not a prayer for salvation.
1964-66: Now there was a Jewish Center in Hickory (only about 20 miles away) and we had to go to Sabbath services. Every Friday night. Of course, Friday night is THE high school football night which is THE social event of the week and I missed almost every game. I began to get hateful.
Lenoir. Alice is home. Her father recently dead. Her mother with cancer. We look at photos of her father fishing, her father at the Moose Lodge, her mother graduating. She shows me a stack of faded ribboned letters that certify her Mayflower past, her rootedness in the land, proof of her American nobility.
When I was 15 my mother moved back home to Fayetteville, North Carolina, from New York. In need of cash, she pawned a Polaroid camera. A few weeks later my father helped me get the camera out of pawn and I became pretty good with that Polaroid 103.
I was scared, but it was challenging and exciting. It was also a way for me to earn some money. I was able to help my mother buy toys and other things for my younger sisters; I bought my own clothes and a car while still in high school.
On balance, the years at the club were great. During this time, I was developing my political ideas about oppression, liberation and racism; I was writing about my frustrations at King's being killed, reading Malcolm and helping to organize the Black Student Union at Terry Sanford Senior High. Through the club I was, in another way, in touch with poor black people. What I saw there was some of the beauty and ugliness of my people, which enabled me to see better some of the ugliness and beauty in myself. And all of this happened around the corner from my house.
As we stood there, we learned that the march would not leave Clayborn Temple until about 10:30 a.m. or 11:00 a.m. For various moments there would be a certain kind of quietness present. At about 9:30 a.m. the whirlybirds (about three) that were flying over the march area were beginning to irritate the marchers. The teenagers from the high school areas began to make up various chants concerning Loeb. However, each time the whirlybirds would come in close, everyone seemed to become angry and thus the whole crowd began to hold their individual signs up and make jeering remarks. I must even admit that the whirlybirds were causing me to become frustrated, because it seemed as though we were in a cage with guards men flying over us to keep watch. . . .
As the march turned on Beale Street, the crowd was changing moods. I noticed that hatred was present on the faces of many. I also noticed that they were getting angry because of the policemen lined up and down the street. I also noticed that most of the policemen had a somewhat jeering smile on their faces.
Then everything started again. This time I noticed that the stores were being looted and glasses were breaking. My sister and I started running once again. When we got a few feet from Beale, I looked back and could see the police riding down Beale at about 70 miles per hour. 1 could also see policemen running with their guns in one hand and sticks in the other one. Fear overtook me and I was trying to find a way home. As I looked around hoping that violence had stopped on Beale, I saw a policeman beat a man until he fell balled up as if lurching in great pain. I also noticed that about three or four policemen ran from their position to get a lick in on the man who was already down. I began to cry and wonder how could something like this happen in Memphis.
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