Rosa's Story

Life is redundant at times. That truth rarely fails me. I’m not sure if I keep missing the lessons; thus, the repetition, or if it’s just some monotonous cycle that continues to elude me. I prefer the latter, even if my mind knows the truth my heart won’t tell.

I grew up in the rural southern region of United States, somewhere in what used to be the outskirts of New Orleans. The area was so small, and everyone knew one another. It was a place where my mind could only grow as big as the container in which it could fit in.

Life was hard and we were poor. There were lots of children to be fed. I knew from a young age that grown-ups were strange. But life was always full of twists and turns with death and darkness always nipping at our heels.

My daddy was a big man. No one really ever knew his story. We only knew as much as we saw. He found what work he could, whenever he could which left us home without him most of the time. It was scary. I had my big sis, Tina; then it was me, Rosa. My brother John and Lloyd were right behind me. I had two more little sisters and two little brothers. We slept on the floor in our one-bedroom shotgun style shack. There wasn’t much furniture, but we were happy to have each other. Daddy always left us with a plan. We were plagued with real life monsters. Later on, I realized they were men, the monsters were inside them.

These men would dress up in white sheets with a white pointy hat and they would mount horses and run through our side of town terrorizing black folks. This would scare me so much.

Daddy had a trap door inside of a cabinet in the floor under the kitchen sink. The door led to a small ladder down a shaft and to a small area underground. We had preserves and water down there. We would disappear when they came, and we would stay down there for days if needed. Once we had to stay until daddy returned. Daddy was a smart man, but he was angry and serious all the time. Once we were picking berries with momma and it was getting dark. We saw white sheets and torches floating through the woods. We tried to hide but my baby brother started crying. We ran. My momma feet were bloody because she had to leave her shoes behind. We made it to the well and climbed down a rope ladder momma had gotten from the brush. She and Tina lowered us down. I had to watch the little ones. Sis came down, but momma didn’t. She motioned to us to stay quiet as we stood on small wooden planks right above the water. We stood on those old wooden planks in that deep well for hours. We were able to shimmy around to where the smaller ones could lay down. We were all hungry, but we had to watch out for each other. If one rolled over there was risk of falling in the water. So, we watched and watched, and in the dead of night momma returned. We heard our signal. Momma would tweet like a bird. Tina heard that whistle and began motioning me to look up. I saw momma. I had to hide the shock on my face when I saw her. Her eye was black, and her face was beginning to swell. She told us to send the smaller ones up. We threw the little ladder up to her and began the job of hoisting the children up. Momma’s dress was torn, and I could tell her nose was bleeding. That was a scary time.

One time those same men in sheets came running through the woods, Tina and I were caught outdoors picking berries. I didn’t know what to do but as always, she did. I was a young child and happy to follow her around. We went everywhere together. I was her tag-a-long buddy, and it was the rule. We had been out near the bayou catching baby alligators with my brothers. I watched for the big ones as Tina caught two. We were headed home to put them with the rest of the baby gators in the tin tub we used as a bath. Tomorrow we will sale them and make money to get groceries. Momma was pregnant so it was up to us to help out. We stopped at the sawmill to get a drink of water. It was the only place that we could drink. It was for the blacks. The men at the mill were atrocious, and today was no exception. They would say gross things especially to Tina, she was older and started to look like a young woman. They would joke and harass the colored girls at the fountain. Tina said to be fast, keep running. We got a drink as fast as we could. Sis’s dress was waving in the hot wind as she drank. She yelled for us to run, then I heard it. I heard Tina scream and yell for help. Her dress was caught in the turbine. She was being pulled in. I dropped the bucket and the gators escaped to the canal flowing alongside the road. I wasn’t strong enough to help her. I wasn’t brave enough to go back. Tears welled up in my eyes and I felt hot and helpless at this young age. I see dark red. Two large white men came to help, they told me to run home and get momma. So, I did; with my eyes burning and full of water. My throat felt like I was choking, and I could not catch my breath.

“Momma...moooommmmmmmaaaa!!!” I yelled uncontrollably. “Momma....th...tha...the mill...it’s sister.” That is all I could manage to get out. I wanted to say more but my body would not do what I wanted it to. I can’t remember much else. But I never saw Tina again. I was about seven when this happened. I do remember her funeral. We buried one forearm and the bottom portion of a femur. We moved on. We had to move on. We couldn’t sit there wallowing in the emptiness. We had no choice. We never talked about big sis much after that. It was too hard. It was too difficult to remember her. But I made a promise in my own heart that day - I wouldn’t forget and when I had kids, I would always tell them about my big sis. For now, though, I just became big sis.