#BTColumn – A star that guides to freedom

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by this author are their own and do not represent the official position of the Barbados Today.

Book Corner features the rich talent of Caribbean writers. In this week’s edition, we feature an excerpt from  the book entitled JAMAICA, when the Land was Wood and Water’ –  Author Richard Guy.)

It was late afternoon when Cubbanah and Abba, in their little boat, reached the sea without mishap or detection.

They had stayed in the middle of the river in order to avoid pursuit or captors on either bank.

Little did they know, the arrival of the French boats on the island of Xaymaca, and the firing of the guns had attracted much attention in the harbour.

Everyone’s focus and the entire population of Villa de la Vega were taken up and occupied with events unfolding there.   

Cubbanah looked upward to the mountains; that was his goal, and he was still a long way.

Soon night would fall and give him the cover he craved, and he would be able to make better time at night.

He once again took up the oars and applied himself to the task of putting as much distance between himself and any possible pursuers.

He had to be at the foot of the mountains by the break of dawn on the following day.

There was no telling what he would find at the other end, perhaps a Spanish settlement or an Indian village, but he could have no way of finding out until he had reached his destination.

He looked at Abba and smiled to reassure her as he swung his shoulders in a steady rhythm to push the oars firmly back and forth, sending them further towards their most cherished goal of freedom.

He was hungry and so was Abba, but the thought of escape that filled their minds dispelled all needs of food.

As darkness grew, Cubbanah saw a light straight ahead at the foot of the mountains. He fixed his eyes steadfastly on the light, which may have been a village fire signal.

He rowed steadily towards it as a guide. Abba managed to sleep for a short spell but woke suddenly from a bad dream.
She looked up at the stars and the nearness seemed to touch the mountain top.

The light at the foot of the mountains held all night and guided Cubbanah like a distant star would guide a navigator.

A star had come to his rescue and he would be eternally grateful, for the tiny pinprick of light became his star of liberation and freedom.

He fixed his eyes on it until they were tired and the light seemed to play tricks on him. He closed his eyes at times and rested them from the fatigue.

He was determined to fix the location so vividly in his mind that, if the light ever went out, he could still have a point of reference. His entire bid for freedom was embodied in that distant light.

In disgust, Cubbanah thought of Quaco, the old slave back at the estate, and his submissive acceptance of slavery. But soon his face softened as he thought of his own predicament at the moment.

For most of the night the couple made progress in silence and as the first light of morning crept over the hills, they clambered from their boat and left it where it had struck shore that morning, in the mangrove bushes, well concealed from any eyes. They had slept fitfully for an hour and now had decided to make their move.

Cubbanah emerged from the swamp and looked around hastily. There was no sign of human habitation, so he signalled for Abba to join him and they started making their way through the bushes.

That evening Cubbanah and Abba lay together on a bed of bamboo fronds in the cool higher reaches of the mountains, where leaves from the bamboo plant provided so soft a bed.

They had gorged themselves on the small river apples with the haunting scent that seemed to them so sweet.

All day, they had picked the lush pink apples that grew over the river banks, and now weary and safe, they fell into a sound sleep in the shelter of the bamboo grove. They were alone and were happy, and nobody had to tell them, for they already knew the first instinctive feel of freedom.

Yet, only that small measure was so exhilarating that they were determined more than ever to seal the covenant beyond a shadow of a doubt.

There could be no going back to the life of slavery. They would carve a life for themselves and also learn to be self-sufficient, and live like they had once lived in their native land, Africa.

Their new surroundings would be their home together for the rest of their lives, and when they were gone their children would carry on the covenant of freedom.

As they settled down to sleep, the couple vowed that they would never stop until they had reached the highest point of the mountains.

Exhausted from the day’s trek into the mountains, Abba looked at Cubbanah and saw her man for the first time through the eyes of freedom. She let her eyes take in the strong features of his noble black face, the firm muscles that rippled under his black skin.

He breathed steadily as he slept, exhausted. For the first time, she understood the feelings of freedom.

It was so new, so delicate, so fragile, so fleeting, so precious, so indefinable, so utterly animal. And there she was, bearing a child for a wonderful man, whom she had never seen before in the unshackled eyes of freedom.