Caryl Phillips - Cambridge

Years of drudgery lumbered by, and I wondered if I should ever be set free from this unChristian labour. Indeed, I worried that perhaps my God was punishing me for my sinful existence, even though He must have known that should I have requested a Christian wedding ceremony it would have certainly been denied. I had raised the question of my fellow slaves' continued adherence to crude African religions with our local man of the cloth, Mr Rogers. The minister, whilst openly acknowledging the correctness of my concerns, sought even as he spoke to a black Christian to introduce me to the notion that converted negroes soon became perverse and intractable. He further maintained that conversion was an inadequate tool with which to combat the perpetual absence of the Christian virtues of family life, morality and social discipline that he frequently found in 'the black stock'. Not unnaturally, I felt inclined to ask after him what he therefore imagined his role to be while he existed in this West Indian region, but I desisted, feeling pity and revulsion for this man who would attempt to build a false notion that all of a black skin are tainted with Cain's crime, or that of Noah's son, Ham. This weak man, who without doing a stroke of God's work simply coughed and perspired abnormally in the tropical heat, confirmed my long-held suspicion that many covetous and profligate individuals are often admitted to the clergy. The blocking up of all the inlets to the spiritual regeneration of the negro seemed his sole and devilish task. That such a man might condescend to marry a pair of negroes after the Christian manner was optimism beyond all reason.

One night, on hearing some distant commotion, my wife awoke with a start. It was not until the clear light of day that I discovered that the veteran Mr Wilson had been driven off our estate by his overseer, Mr Brown. Mr Wilson had proved himself a tolerably decent man and I, in common with many others, was sorry to see his demise. Doubly so in that he was replaced by Mr Brown, a bullying brute of an overseer who seemed trapped within the imagined swaggering authority of his own skin. His first act was to attempt to reorganize the status among the slaves to suit his own purpose. To this end it was suggested that I accept the title of Head Driver. Not wishing to be master to any, I declined, and so began the period of conflict between myself and this Mr Brown. He could not accept my disobedience. Although no words passed through his lips, it was clear that he had determined to reduce the haughty Cambridge, who by now had long revealed to all a firmer grasp of the English language than any, including Mr Brown, might ever conceive of achieving. I had also, much to this Mr Brown's chagrin, gained the true respect of my fellow-toilers, who affectionately styled me the black Christian.

Life continued without reference to the calendar, until one evening Mr Brown appeared at my hut after dark. His breath was contaminated with liquor and his person evidently consumed with passion. That my poor wife was the object of his frothful desire I had no doubt, but I decided that he should not satisfy himself upon her like an animal. As though reading my mind, Mr Brown drew his pistol and ordered me to leave my own hut. The pitiful pleading of my unsound wife, who saw that Mr Brown was truly determined to kill me if necessary, encouraged me to leave. Her distress attracted the attention of my fellow-slaves, who stood in the darkness as though this humiliation was something that we ought to endure as a company. Their hidden purpose was clear, for they wished to ensure that I should not decide upon any action, self-destructive or otherwise.

It appeared that my wife, in one of her not uncommon flights of fantasy, had recently taken to conducting herself as though the mistress of the Great House. The fearful house-servants were unable to sway her from her queer purpose, and there abounded in the Great House a state of anarchy. However, although my wife's pantomime had been in operation for some weeks, the principal cause of this destructive disorder was not her unseemly behaviour, but Mr Brown's inexplicable toleration of this charade. His patience extended as far as allowing her to share his table. Perhaps he looked upon my comely wife as a visual entertainment, in the same manner that some Englishmen keep about them dwarfs or pet monkeys? Or was he lonely? Or was he simply humouring her in anticipation of this moment when he might punish both my wife and myself with one act of brutal desire? I prayed to the good Lord to release my poor simple wife, who, although not my wedded wife in his eyes, meant as much to me as any who might occupy that station. And men my God answered me as a sated Mr Brown reappeared, seemingly unconcerned by the suffering he had inflicted, and oblivious of the gathering of slaves, all of whom viewed this man as a disgrace to his own people and their civilization. The next day Mr Brown found weak pretext to inflict upon me a severe beating in the presence of an English female. Whether this was some customary ritual to ensure easier access next time he should choose to visit my wife, or due punishment for the defiance I had chosen not to hide, I could not tell. But upon my back, in a series of random patterns, were markings that cut deep into my flesh. After Mr Brown's violation the bond between my wife and I, although still intact, began to be tried beyond its strength. The woman steadfastly refused to adopt the Christian religion, which continued to cause some unpleasant friction between us, but to my horror she now reverted to dirt-eating and other abominations. I traced this filthy behaviour to a sickness brought on by Mr Brown's hunger, although this by no means justified such paganism. For his part, Mr Brown continued to trifle with her reason by tolerating her fanciful delusions as she continued to sport herself as the mistress. It was, however, the arrival of the English female that seemed to pitch my wife into her final and irrevocable madness. This Englishwoman, the daughter of our true owner, appeared amongst us, and after an extended convalescence she entered fully into our miserable society. On the rare evenings when my wife paid me the compliment of returning to my hut, she began now openly to mock at my Christian beliefs and to scream out for her long-lost mother. This caused my heart to swell with bow sorrow and anger, for, as is well known, a Christian man possesses his wife, and the dutiful wife must obey her Christian husband. Accordingly, at the conclusion of the week's labour, I decided to seek an audience with Mr Brown at which I intended to instruct him to cease indulging my wife's behaviour, and to offer him the opportunity of cleansing his heathen conscience and confessing his role in her recent sad demise.

On a bright Sunday afternoon, when the white people had returned from church, I presented myself beneath the piazza where Mr Brown was taking tea with the Englishwoman, in whom he appeared to have developed an intimate interest. Clearly he knew the subject and object of my visit, but giving me no time to state my purpose he barked rudely that I had no place petitioning him — this ungodly man! — on the Sabbath, and he declared that I should remove myself immediately. I hesitated, and then began to speak, whereupon Mr Brown climbed to his feet and, turning a murderous vermilion, bellowed that I should immediately absent myself. On receiving this instruction I turned and left. I returned to the negro village and sought out my wife, who was occupying herself by singing meaningless ditties. I knew now that her mind would stray more frequently into zones of illogicality, for not only would Mr Brown continue to torment her, but her abuses were now compounded by feelings of jealousy. I knew also that come the morning I might reasonably expect to be flogged for my impertinence.