Spirit Ran Free
Chapter Three / Page Five

Ol' Jake with a fresh towel slung over his shoulder was leading Marcellus toward a wooden shed that was primarily used by the house servants for bathing. He kept shifting some keen eyes up at the big guy and Marcellus knew the old slave had a lot of questions. After ol' Jake lit a lantern inside the dark shed, he saw a huge wooden tub off in a corner that had a stool near it with big cakes of soap piled on a dish. In the far corner there was a much larger vat filled with fresh water. He grabbed the wooden bucket, and while ol' Jake's eyes followed his every move, he went on about filling the bathtub. Finally, ol' Jake walked up closer and looked him square in his face. Marcellus didn't say a word while he stripped off his shirt, and pants.

"What in the world?" Ol' Jake's eyes widened in disbelief. "Good God. I heard tell of them African gods that got them kind of big long things and fine muscle bodies made-up like this. But them ain't no real men. Them people is gods. Who is you, boy? You ain't no buck who come here to fool with these women, is you? I sho' knows master don't fool 'round with that filthy mess. Then how come you be talking so sweet like them White folks? Is you some young African god? Who you think you is, boy?"

"Nobody. I am certainly nobody's god. But I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Jacob."

"Mmm-hmm, calling me, Mr. Jacob. That kind of White folk proper talk don't fool me none. Master think I's got too old. And they done bring you here to take my place. Now ain't that so?"

"Mr. Jacob, nobody can take your place, sir. In another minute, we African people are going to be free. No slaves, Mr. Jacob, not ever again. But every slave that ever bent their back in a cotton field will be remembered and written into Negro history. You're already a famous person, Mr. Jacob."

Ol' Jake was touched and couldn't say anything for a while. "If you ain't come to take my place. Then who is you, boy? How you know that you ain't no god? Maybe you is. Gods is funny people. Y'all young foolish gods ain't be knowing who y'all is."

Marcellus nearly smiled, thinking that ol' Jake acted like the old village griot his mother always talked about. "You're a nice man, sir. I can see that you're a real fine person."

"I is. If I wanna be. But Negroes that come here lying and messing with me, I kill 'em dead. Just like that," ol' Jake snapped his fingers. "Come here messing with me. I kill 'em dead."

Cont. / Page 6

the author


Forest Hairston