Tea Party #17 ~ Fiction
Toys, Robert Fuentes larger version
Barren | Tamara Madison
Dedicated to the more than 400 victims of the syphilis experiment,women who contributed to gynecological research,and to all our Mothers. . .
WAY TOO SMALL FOR THE BIG OF its britches, Indigo County was actually a nickel bit of a town, but its pompous leadership insisted on the privileges and prestige of a “county.” Fat from the funk of free labor, the town’s name harkened back to its centuries of growth from the great indigo plantations in the region. With the Emancipation and Lee’s surrender long since passed, East Indigo’s prominent citizens remained rich off the wealth from former slave hands and bustled about their business in rainbow hues of blue, starched and pressed to arrogant perfection. Colored folks from West Indigo, however, existed on snatches of laughter and joy, barely breathing through their dull, tattered, color-limp rags, their still-stained hands as constant reminders of the degradation of the recent past.
West Indigoers were not to be seen in East Indigo before the sun raised its head or as it closed its eyes. Many a black body had been dragged from wagons, waved in the wind from whimpering trees or raced to as supper from hungry hounds if caught in East Indigo at the wrong time, in the wrong place, by the wrong persons. With the so-called outlaw of slavery, East Indigoers carefully established colored quarters, boundaries and regulations, and meticulously enforced them. All heaven help a black stranger stumbling into town unaware.
Rumor ran that the reason indigo and other crops grew so well in this place was because of all the blood and flesh that had fertilized the soil. Prosperous farmers joked and teased that “nigra” blood could make dung and ashes sprout fruit and flowers in the desert. None of them seemed to mind at all as long as a few “nigras” remained to serve, till, plant and feed the gluttonous prosperity of East Indigo.
Well, times had long since changed in many ways. With his inheritance as a playing field, the mayor of East Indigo grew to be a big man with big plans, needing big, big plots of land to develop, what with the railroad and commerce as the key to continued financial success. North, east and south of East Indigo lay white settlements and already developing projects. The only place to move was across the tracks, so the coloreds would have to move. The mayor and his Klan council had exhausted their tactics to scare West Indigoers away. Burning crosses and threats had failed to achieve the desired effect. Besides, busybodies from the north were often too quick to meddle in the town’s affairs. With the sweating and swelling of his dreams, the Mayor grew anxious and desperate, searching for more careful and creative means to scoot the coloreds away. » next page »