Sixteen

Momma

       Momma was very round and not really very tall.  Sometimes she seemed much larger than she was because she could yell really loud.  When the children got into whatever she was cooking she would yell so loud, they didn’t know what to do.  She moved fast in the kitchen, but she was so fat, no one else could be in the kitchen at the same time as her.  She would move quickly from chopping up vegetables to mixing a soup on the stove top to getting something from the pantry.  If you got in her way or tried to stick a finger in her pot, she’d turn around and yell and beat you with her wooden spoon too.  You didn’t want to mess with Momma.

        But she had a softer side too.  If you thought that she was mad at you, she wouldn’t be mad for long.  You could always come to momma for advice or to ask her opinion on something. 

       Like this one time I remember she helped me.

       “Momma?” I said.

       “Yes, baby,” she said.

       “Do you think we should fix this hole in Master’s sock?” I asked.

       “Oh yes, I do,” she said.  “He does hate them socks to have holes in them.”

       Whatever it was, you knew she’d have an opinion too, and she wouldn’t be afraid to tell you exactly what she thought about it.  A few times, I made the mistake of telling her something about Frank, even when I was just trying to get my thoughts about what he had done the day before, and she had an opinion and wanted to give me advice on what I should do about him.  You know, she was usually right too, but I certainly didn’t always want to hear what she had to say. 

       Momma was also the one you went to when you had to get support when something was going wrong or if the master got after you or your child. When one of the children was beat by their dad for backtalk or when the master screamed at one of the field hands who laid in the bed a minute too long or forgot to do something he was asked to do, they went to Granny for the medicine, but they went to Momma for comfort.  And Momma always had a kind word to say.  She noticed things like when someone wore a new dress or had a new pair of shoes.  She was the one who kept things together and kept everyone in high spirits.  In turn, she was the one who said grace at the meals, she always kept a positive attitude and made sure that we all thanked God for the food he had given us in the harvest and for the food on the table at mealtimes.  Sometimes everyone forgot and started eating before Momma got to the table to say grace.  If someone forgot, the others next to him would kick him under the table until he looked up, eyes sheepish and put his fork down until Momma was ready to say grace.
       Momma was a powerful force all around the plantation, that’s for sure.  No one doubted how much influence she had with the Master and the Mistress too.  If someone needed something done for them and they needed to have help with something like getting the doctor or getting the preacher to come for a wedding ceremony or a funeral service, Momma would be the one they would go to first to ask her to speak with the Master.  Then the Master would think about what he might do to help you for a while before he would actually do anything.  Momma would have to work him a little bit sometimes, depending on what it was you wanted done.  She would make him a special thing for dinner or mix him a drink ready for him when he came in from the fields.  She would rub his shoulders a bit, and then he would say, real slow-like, “Now what was it that you wanted me to do?” and then Momma would tell him again, “Well, can you ask the preacher to come next week so that Frank and Lizzie can marry each other” or “You need to fetch the doctor to see what he can do about this sore on Zena’s leg.”  And then the Master would sometimes do the thing she asked him to do.  Sometimes he wouldn’t do it anyway, like the time she told Master that a leak in the roof in the corner of one of the sleeping quarters needed fixing, he didn’t fix it, and after a while, a big rainstorm came and the cabin leaked so much water.  We had to put a bucket underneath to catch the drips, and the bucket filled up and then overflowed so we had to empty it and it filled a second time in one night.  That drip kept me up all night, but the master didn’t fix it for two more weeks.  He would do things when he was good and ready to do them, but Momma was the only one who could convince him to do anything at all.  No matter what, the Master wasn’t gonna do anything he didn’t want to do.