Trouble in Paradise: How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House

 

How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House by Cherie Jones

Tinder Press

Pp. 308

The title refers to a cautionary tale parents tell their daughters not to be willful, as the child in the narrative loses an arm due to curiosity when she enters a tunnel despite dire warnings. The message misfires when Lala (she who is told the tale by her grandmother, Wilma) wonders whether the girl could cope without the limb, swapped for following passion. She is cautioned, ‘but how will she sweep the house with only one arm’? She questions whether a woman’s worth is judged by her housekeeping, and maybe she would rather lead an adventurous life.

Unfortunately, her adventures do not lead to happiness. The novel is set in Barbados on a beach straight from the brochures of paradise. White folk live in tall, gated houses, while violence, prostitution, drug smuggling, murder and other criminal activities exist beyond their gardens, and everyone carries a gun. The police turn a blind eye to the abuse (particularly of women) until it enters those houses of those who go to embassies and ruin the tourist trade.

The community is steeped in intergenerational violence and abuse. Mothers beat their children because they do not want them to go bad and need to whip the devil out of them; they fear that sparing the rod is the cause of the child’s failings. Lala marries Adan, who regularly beats and rapes her, even while she is recovering from a traumatic birth. He commits robberies to pay for his lifestyle, which escalate to drug smuggling and murder in a sort of subplot to the novel. His cruelty leads to a tug of war with their newborn (known only as Baby because they have not yet decided on a name), which results in the death of the child as she is dropped on the floor.

Girls are routinely raped by their male relatives: Lala is the child of her mother, Esme, and her grandfather, Carter. The young women are sent away to remove the temptation, while the man is not considered to be at fault. Lala is made to sleep in the outhouse to avoid her grandfather’s attentions, or how else can he resist? Women are pursued by men. The policeman who investigates the Baby’s death pursues Sheba and refuses to accept that she doesn’t want his protection; Adan fixates on his ‘outside woman’ despite being married to Lala.

"A grown man cannot help himself, she explains, in the presence of a young Wilkinson girl. This is the way it has been for generations. It is not the man’s fault, says Wilma, there is nothing he can do about it. It was this way with her mother before her, her daughter and granddaughter after her. It was this way with her."

In some ways, the novel, full of descriptive scenes and local patois, is reminiscent of those by Alice Walker, Toni Morrison or Alan Duff. Characters struggle to connect with community and lash out at those who seek to reinforce their culture without understanding the roots of reggae or Rasta, merely turning gangsta. When Wilma holds a funeral for Baby, Adan does not attend because he is wary of her connection to culture, although he tells his friends that she is a bitch and “he not going anywhere around her or her house.” He is alone and left behind in the world where he has lost his local bonds.

Even Lala is infused in her beliefs, although they may not support her – her grief, trauma and post-partum depression are explained in superstition. “She is convinced also that supernatural beings are conspiring on her daughter’s behalf to make her understand that she will pay for her part in her death.” She fears a “wicked duppy” is playing tricks on her, putting cans of formula in the cupboard, although she knows she has thrown them all out, sprinkling the scent of baby powder in the house, and “It is this duppy, or another, equally malevolent, who infuses the peculiar sound the paper bag of flour makes when she is making dumplings and it hits the floor with the same sound she heard when Baby was dropped.”

Reviewers have called the book unflinching, claustrophobic, pitiless, and relentless. Focussing on murder, abuse, a violent marriage and the death of a baby, it is certainly no light-hearted tale, but there is a slight glimmer of hope towards the end, and it is ultimately compelling. It is exquisitely constructed, with flashbacks to flesh out the characters and the pathways that have led them to this Barbadian beach, and it is a great achievement for a debut novel.

Friday Five: Friday 13th and other superstitions

Today is Friday 13th. I have no superstitious belief about this whatsoever. We got married on the 13th so every now and then we will have a wedding anniversary on Friday 13th. We actually got married on a Saturday, but the date was considered so unlucky by many that we were able to book the church and the reception venue without difficulty, although either side was booked up for months.

Considering this I thought to myself that I am not superstitious at all, although I am involved with theatre and many theatrical people supposedly are. As children we used to pull the wishbone of chickens (and the Christmas turkey) apart and the one with the bigger bit got to make a wish. I can’t remember what happened to the ‘loser’ but it was certainly nothing bad. We also used to wish on shooting stars and birthday candles (I still do, but it’s always the same wish, and no, I’m not telling or it won’t come true…) and pretend we had found four-leaf clovers by splitting one of the petals in half.

I never had a rabbit’s foot, but that was probably because I thought it was creepy. Neither did I set much store by the lore about black cats – mainly because I couldn’t remember if they were meant to be lucky or unlucky (apparently if a black cat walks towards you, it brings good fortune, but if it walks away, it takes the good luck with it) and I have shared my life with two black cats (Wraith and Hatstand) and couldn’t imagine either of them to be harbingers of doom.

I have since discovered that, it is supposedly unlucky to wear opals unless you were born in October, which is fortunate as I do and I was. My mother always used to say it was bad luck to put shoes on the table, but I always assumed this was for hygiene reasons as much as anything. So I never considered myself remotely superstitious, but recently I realised I do many things which emanate from old wives’ tales. I do them unthinkingly, however, and I suspect they are more to do with the customs with which I was raised than any deeper meaning.

5 Superstitions I Follow:

1. Walking under a ladder – I don’t do it. Admittedly, this is because there is a possibility something might fall on my head, but I have been known to step into the road to avoid them.
2. I never open umbrellas indoors – I’ve lived in some very small English houses before where there simply isn’t room.
3. When I spill salt, I throw some over my left shoulder with my right hand – this is meant to be flung on the face of the devil who waits over your left shoulder (he’s sinister you see) but it does create more mess to clean up.
4. I don’t like to have thirteen people at the dinner table. I won’t make a fuss about it or anything but it does make me slightly uncomfortable – the last supper and the great betrayal and all that.
5. I knock on wood after mentioning good fortune so evil spirits won’t ruin it. I know it makes no sense and I don’t why I do it, but I do. So there.

Friday Five: Theatre Superstitons

Tonight is opening night of Tempo Theatre’s production of Agatha Christie’s The Hollow in which I am performing. I would like to wish all the cast and crew the very best. Yes, good luck and all that.

Now, there are a lot of superstitions in the theatre. People will tell you that thespians are almost as superstitious as sailors. I don’t know any sailors, so I couldn’t possibly comment. I do know a lot of theatre types. Some of them (heaven forfend) are somewhat pretentious – ’tis the nature of the beast – but few of them are superstitious.

 

Some of the more well-known superstitions stem from historical reasons, but they have no relevance today. Like business jargon, they are merely used to form a club, to fake importance and exclude others. If your art is worth doing, it will stand alone without the need for nonsense and special terminology. I hereby declare theatre superstitions as bunkum.

 

5 Nonsensical theatre superstitions:

1. Good luck – It is considered bad luck to wish someone good luck before performance. Apparently there are evil fairies who listen in and pervert the positive vibes – conspiracy theories, anyone? So people wish each other ill-luck to confuse these easily befuddled fairies. Many English-speaking thespians exhort each other to ‘break a leg’ and Australians announce ‘chookas’. This apparently originates from the fact that actors are poor and chicken is expensive so if the house was full and the actors were paid according to box-office takings, they could afford chicken for dinner. ‘Chooks it is’ was shortened to ‘chookas’ and it’s off to KFC for all. Classy folk, those Aussies.
2. Macbeth – Some folk claim that if you mention Macbeth (or quote lines from the play) in a theatre or you will have to leave the theatre, turn around three times, spit, and knock on the door to be invited back in. Apparently the play is cursed, and several explanations are offered. One; because it contains a lot of sword-fighting and people are likely to get hurt, two; the witches were cross that their secrets were revealed, three; some idiots believe the Globe was burned down during a performance of Macbeth. (It was actually Henry VIII – live cannons on stage will do that for you). For this reason, theatre folk tend to refer to it as ‘the Scottish play’. To that I say, ‘bollocks’. Or, in the immortal words of the fabulous Stephen Fry, “Macbeth, which we actors call [pause for dramatic effect] Macbeth.’
3. Whistling – this one does actually have a reasonable origin. It is considered bad form to whistle in a theatre, because riggers used to use a code of whistles to change set, scenery, lighting and other stage effects. Since the invention of communication devices, however, this is hardly relevant.
4. Bad dress rehearsal – people claim that a bad dress rehearsal means a subsequent sterling opening night. What tosh. A bad dress rehearsal means the cast and crew are under-prepared and it is something directors are forced into saying to boost the spirits of their woeful company.
5. Ghosts – every theatre worth its salt has a resident ghost. It’s a great scapegoat for things going missing or not being where you swear you set them. Theatres are usually closed for at least one night a week, to allow the ghosts to have their own performance. Never mind that the actors need a rest. Or that the off-night is usually a Monday when paying audiences don’t tend to go out after a hectic and expensive weekend.

You've got to be yolking!

This morning as I cracked my egg into the boiling water, I saw that there were two yolks inside the shell. I've never seen that before so I was mometarily diverted (yep, that's the kind of life I lead) until I looked it up on the interwebisation device and discovered that apparently one in a thousand eggs has a double yolk so it 'isn't all that rare' - well thanks for crushing my excitement.

So then I wondered whether this would produce chicken twins, but apparently not because there is not enough egg white to feed two yolks, so they/it wouldn't hatch at all. That makes me feel less guilty for eating it poached on toast with baked beans.

And then I wondered whether there is lore or legend surrounding the double-yolked egg and whether superstition decrees it is lucky or unlucky. As I said, it's a fine life... According to one site I looked at, "Throughout history and in different cultures, finding a double yolk has been considered to mean anything from an impending wedding to a financial windfall to a death in the family." Do I get to choose? If so, let's hope it's a financial windfall. I may let you know, or I may disappear to South America for a while!