Nicole Dennis-Benn - Here Comes the Sun

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Here Comes the Sun: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Capturing the distinct rhythms of Jamaican life and dialect, Nicole Dennis- Benn pens a tender hymn to a world hidden among pristine beaches and the wide expanse of turquoise seas. At an opulent resort in Montego Bay, Margot hustles to send her younger sister, Thandi, to school. Taught as a girl to trade her sexuality for survival, Margot is ruthlessly determined to shield Thandi from the same fate. When plans for a new hotel threaten their village, Margot sees not only an opportunity for her own financial independence but also perhaps a chance to admit a shocking secret: her forbidden love for another woman. As they face the impending destruction of their community, each woman — fighting to balance the burdens she shoulders with the freedom she craves — must confront long-hidden scars. From a much-heralded new writer,
offers a dramatic glimpse into a vibrant, passionate world most outsiders see simply as paradise.

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Her mother is standing still by the stove, harping as if to the shadows that are perched nearby. “If yuh guh pick up wid a street boy, then yuh mus’ at least get something out of it. Because what can a dutty, wingworm, gully bwoy who don’t even own a pair of shoes do fah you, eh?”

“He’s more than just a street boy,” Thandi says when she regains her ability to speak.

Delores whips around. “Oh, suh yuh know where he is.” This is a statement, not a question. Thandi doesn’t like what she sees in her mother’s eyes. It’s a look she has seen before when asked about school and her grades — the image of herself crouched at the table with her books under the glare of the kerosene lamp mounting and mounting in her mother’s pupils — a mammoth creature of her mother’s lofty goals and dreams. It fills her mother’s eyes, expanding the blackness and roundness that reminds Thandi of the look Miss Gracie gets when she experiences one of her holy visions.

“I didn’t say that,” Thandi replies.

“Di way yuh talkin’ mek it seem suspicious. Yuh talkin’ like yuh know where him is. For all I know, yuh coulda see him yesterday an’ nuh tell a soul.” Delores’s voice is loaded with accusation. “I didn’t sacrifice to send yuh to school fi guh pick up wid those types. You become di people you associate yuhself wid—” She pauses, her head shaking and her pointer finger wagging as though to make up for half of what she’s thinking. Then the words appear — not the ones she seemed to search for, but new ones generated from somewhere as dark as the shadows from which she seeks counsel. Thandi can almost see them forming, rising from that place of darkness like soot from the inner workings of her mother’s mind. Thandi is looking straight up into Delores’s face, right up into her nostrils. “Do it fah all ah we, Thandi.” She gestures to Grandma Merle, who is silently resting on her bed. Grandma Merle, who has long been a shadow except for the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

“I have a mind of my own,” Thandi says.

“Yuh know where he is?”

“No, Mama.”

“Yuh know wah ten thousand U.S. dollah can get we?”

“Yes, but I feel responsible.”

“Responsible fah wah?” Delores stands up straight, no longer hovering over Thandi. She puts her hands on her hips. “What yuh sayin’ to me?”

“He did it because of me.”

“Wah?”

“Charles fought Clover because of me. I told him that Clover raped me years ago.”

“Clover?”

“Yes.”

“My Clover?” Thandi cringes at the possessiveness in her mother’s voice. “Di Clover who used to come ’roun here an’ help we wid t’ings ’roun di house? Clover who used to fix up di roof, mek sure seh we nuh get wet when it rain? Clover who guard di place when yuh wutless Uncle Winston lef’?”

“Yes,” Thandi says.

“When was dis?” Delores asks.

“Six years ago. I was walking home from school, an’. .”

Delores is quiet. She feels for a chair by the kitchen table and sits. The shadows flee back to their corners and crouch, waiting. Delores puts her hands on her head and slowly rocks herself the way Grandma Merle does in her chair. A sound erupts from her belly. It rises up as though through her air pipes, settling deep inside her throat, and stays. “Yuh turning into yuh sistah more an’ more every day,” she says in a low, raspy voice. “Jus’ like har, yuh becoming a wench, a manipulative, trifling wench!” Delores stands up.

“Mama, Charles was only defending me.”

“Why him need fi defend yuh now if it happen years ago?”

“Because it still affect me.”

Delores comes close to Thandi, her arms open as if to embrace her. Thandi is prepared to rest her head against her mother’s big breasts. She’s ready to drop her shoulders and let her mother rub them, tell her that it will be all right. That Clover got what he deserved. The embrace is a sweet one — one Thandi had forgotten until now. Her mother’s love is as vicious and domineering as her personality. Once it’s felt, there is none other like it. Thandi relaxes in Delores’s embrace, allowing herself to be rocked back and forth like a baby. But then it’s cut short. Slowly, Delores pries Thandi off her and holds her at arm’s length. “I want you to come to yuh senses an’ turn dat boy in. Everything ’appen for a reason, an’ dat was it,” Delores says. “Do it fah all ah we, Thandi.”

“He was defending me.”

“Di devil is a liad. Him kick yuh dung, but it don’t mean yuh can’t get back up an’ use the tool him fling give yuh. What Clover did is history. Something long gaan. So put it behind yuh an’ do the right t’ing.”

“Him is a brute, Mama.”

“Shush! Yuh g’wan pay for cursing di dead.” Delores pulls Thandi closer again and rocks her in her bosom. She smells like the green banana she sliced up. She runs her fingers through Thandi’s hair as she speaks. “You an’ dat bwoy Charles shouldn’t mix in di first place. As me say, if yuh guh pick up wid a street boy, then yuh mus’ at least get something out of it. Forget ’bout what Clover did. Dat won’t set yuh free. Nuff people it happen to an’ it didn’t kill them. What will set yuh free is money. Don’t say me neva teach yuh dat. I send you to school fah good reasons, yes. But is also for you to learn common sense. Yuh t’ink because Charles say him love yuh dat yuh worth something? Yuh t’ink because him say him want yuh dat him mean it? That is not one t’ing him aftah, an’ when him get it, him run? What is dis love, eh? You don’t know nuttin’ ’bout no love. Love is foolish. Yuh eva see love put running wata inna pipe? Yuh eva see love build a roof ovah we head? Yuh eva see love give free education to those children whose parents can’t afford school fee? Yuh eva see love full up we cupboard? Yuh eva see love hand we visa so we can go anyweh, far from dis rat hole? What can love do fah you, eh? How yuh g’wan love a stranger when yuh don’t even know what love is? Him will jus’ tek advantage of yuh an’ walk away. Yuh haffi get yuh return in dollahs, not cents. An’ besides, who g’wan want a naïve girl like you, eh?

“Suppose him did really want yuh. Could you really love somebody who is an absolute fool when it come on to these t’ings? Somebody who green? Yuh wouldn’t want dat, an’ neither would he. Yuh giving him everything fah free. Boys like chupid girls like dat. Dey tek one look at yuh black face an’ know yuh desperate enough fi spread yuh legs at di first compliment. Dey see yuh true color before yuh tell dem yuh name. Dey know dey can tell yuh anyt’ing an’ yuh black self believe it an’ accept it, ’caw we so use to getting di leftovers. Who yuh know really love a black girl for more than what’s between her legs? Yuh is a pretty black girl, but is my duty as yuh mother to teach yuh dese t’ings. Put somet’ing in yuh head. Chile, yuh know how much yuh coulda get? Ten thousand U.S. dollahs! Dat can tek yuh from here to eternity, pay fah yuh education an’ everyt’ing. Use yuh head, chile. Yuh can’t place more value on dis boy an’ his foolish love over money. If it mean so likkle to you, then you’ll lose everyt’ing. ’Membah dis, nobody love a black girl. Not even harself. Now get up an’ guh get yuh pay.”

31

THANDI GOES OUT TO THE BEACH, WHERE THE BOATS ARE TIED. Asafa’s boat is the brightest one, painted in red, yellow, and green. Over the years it has suffered some wear and tear, rusting on the sides. The letter A is missing from Asafa’s name. Thandi makes her way to the boat and climbs inside. She sits on the rear wooden seat. By her foot is a white pail that she imagines Asafa used to store the lobsters he caught. From where she sits Thandi looks out at the ocean glistening in the sunset. This must be what Charles sees when he’s out here alone. The waves are gentle, rising and falling like breath moving through a living body. The sea is liquid gold as the sun dips on the horizon. One by one the nocturnal insects hidden in trees inside the cove start to sing. The waves get louder in the presence of the new moon. They crash to the shore, their urgency driven by an invisible force. Thandi lies on her back inside the boat and listens to them. They speak to something stirring within her, something raging within her. The water rises and rises until it blurs her vision of the dotted stars above. It trembles at the corners of her eyes, then rolls down her cheeks.

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