The Woman Before Me

Ya-Yow was now gone and although she wasn’t conscious enough to care for us, her presence provided a great sense of comfort. Before she left, she had given birth to one of my baby sisters. To be honest, I hadn’t even noticed her being pregnant. It was an early October night, in 1987 and our lights were off. Off, not out, Babalu didn’t pay the bill. We were all supposed to be asleep and I heard a loud “Charkes”. I immediately jumped up to see what she wanted. She directed me to go to the neighbor’s house and call the ambulance (No, we didn’t have a phone). I had no idea what I was calling the ambulance for. Shit, I wonder what I said. Anyway, when I got back to the house the first thing I heard was a baby crying. I was like “What the hell”. Wondering, when did she get pregnant? And asking “Did she just deliver this baby herself”? By now my mother had 10 children so the latter was possible and, of course, obvious. The ambulance eventually arrived and took my mother and my baby sister off to the hospital. She named her “Shadeaw” (pronounced “Shadow”).

So, now it was all on me. I cooked, cleaned, did hair, I did it all. One of the responsibilities I most loathed most was doing laundry. I hated it because I had to get up at 3 o clock in the morning to do it. Babalu would stay out all night and when he was done with whatever he was doing, he would come home to pick me up so that I could go to the laundry mat. Now this was always random, we never had a schedule. Whenever he decided it was time, it was time. I would gather all of our clothes, dump them in a sheet and tie each adjacent corner together, creating a sack. Those of you who didn’t have laundry baskets (or still don’t for that matter) know what I’m talking about. Babalu would load the clothes in the back of his station wagon and off to the laundry mat we went.

We would always go to the one across the street from the Banana Boat. I believe it sits in the same location. Once the clothes were out of the car, Babalu would hand me 20 dollars, and get back in his car to sleep. I guess he was the only one that was tired. SMH. I was washing for 8 children, so I had to figure out how to make those those 20 dollars work. There was no lite, bright, dark, white, linen or towel separation. There was only colored and white. So if you had a light pink shirt, no telling what color it would be after the wash. You just had to be grateful for clean clothes. Once I was done, we would hurry home so that I could get myself and everyone else ready for school (well at least help them). I can’t tell you how I did all of that. Furthermore, I can’t begin to understand why Babalu thought 3 am in was an appropriate time to have his child doing laundry. Nevertheless, that and a host of other duties became my responsibilities.

My mother was gone and I transitioned into her role. No, my father wasn’t having sex with me or physically treating me like his woman, but I was his woman. I took care of his house, I took care of his children and I took care of him. I made sure everything was ok. I sacrificed for a man who never sacrificed anything for me or the woman before me.