lining the fields in places, or in ravines not yet flooded. One large
field that has been planted is in Amaranth, a tall, leafy grain plant
with plumes containing small seeds. Amaranth is known to be entirely
edible, and is one of the rare plants that can equate to meat as it has
lysine, a protein that meat contains. Another field nearby is planted
in Corn, which when combined with Amaranth equal meat in protein
nutrition.
The houseboat stops, Finegan taking a break to view these planted
fields, a rarity during his travels. While he watches, some small
children emerge from among the tall Amaranth plants. They range in age
from 2-3 years, toddlers, to pre-adolescents. Most are not dressed in
clothing appropriate for their age. Most of the older children have
adult shirts or t-shirt, which fall almost to their knees and are tied
around the waist. All are barefoot. Only the younger children have
clothing that fits, and this so well worn it is clear they are hand-me-
downs. The children are solemn, staring at the houseboat, and not
leaving the safety of their Amaranth forest.
Finegan leaves his bike seat and comes to the front, standing side-by-
side with Joey as they too solemnly view the scene before them. The
houseboat is close to shore, next to where an idle field slopes down
into the water. Finegan says,
I’m not sure they’re used to company.
Finegan decides to moor the boat and check out the situation, as there
does not appear to be an adult in charge. As he slings the grappling
hooks into the ground and slides his gangplank forward, the children
slip back into their Amaranth forest silently, disappearing.
______________________________
Finegan and Joey are walking along the edge of the Amaranth field where
it abuts an old farmstead. The house has collapsed, and weeds and brush
have grown up along its sides. The barn was knocked sideways by
earthquakes but the roof is intact and has been propped up by lumber so
it is, in essence, a lean-to. The hay in what was formerly the upper
floor of the barn, the hayloft, is now the floor of the collapsed
structure, and is covered in various blankets. This is where the
children have been sleeping – out of the rain, but not out of the
64
chill. As Finegan and Joey approach, some small children are seen
dashing into the collapsed barn and crawling under their blankets, or
dashing into the woods. They are indeed shy, and not used to visitors.
Joey glances at Finegan and says,
I’m not the only one . . missing parents.
A wood burning stove is in the yard, under a tree where a tarp has been
tied to the lower branches to act as a roof. A broken picnic table is
nearby, supported by pieces of firewood where a leg is broken. Some
dishes are piled on the table, washed from the last meal. The sound of
young children’s voices can be heard in the distance, unintelligible.
An older woman with a limp appears, surrounded by a dozen children of
various ages. They cluster around her, all talking at once, and
gesturing toward Finegan and Joey.
The orphan mistress has graying hair, barely pinned on top of her head
in a bun. Her dress is tattered and hanging on her body as though at
one time she were somewhat overweight. She looks immensely weary, and
walks as though she might not make the next step. She stops to take her
breath and looks up at the visitors. Seeing them non-threatening, she
raises a hand weakly, as though saying a “hello”, and then walks
forward toward the dining area. She takes a seat on the picnic table,
sighing as though relieved to be off her feet. Taking a deep breath to
gain her strength, she lifts her face to smile at the visitors and
waves them forward to join her. She directs her charges.
Stir that fire and put on a pot. We’ll serve
some tea.
Finegan introduces himself.
Morning mam. Finegan Fine here and my partner
Joey. I’m a trader, moving up and down these
parts. Got my houseboat out there at the end of
your field. Pretty impressive plots you have
there. You plant and harvest that all by
yourself?
The orphan mistress smiles and winks at the absurdity of this idea.
Fortunately, I’ve got plenty of help.
She leans back, having caught her breath, and continues to direct her
young charges.
Honey, use that other pot. It has a spout.
That’s it.
Finegan says,
These aren’t all yours . .
The startles orphan mistress responds,
65
Oh Heaven’s no. I’d surely be in the ground if
that was the case! Picked them up in Montgomery
when the troubles hit. I was down there
visiting, checking on some friends of mine that
can’t move around so good no more. After I
buried them . . heart attack and such . . I was
heading back home and found these kids just
lost. . . Been weeks, and no one came to
collect them. . . Well, what could I do? . . We
came home together. Been a blessing, these
darlin’s have been. A blessing.
Finegan’s mouth drops open at this unexpected description of a dozen or
more orphans, some obviously only toddlers when she collected them,
being described by this exhausted woman as a “blessing”. He catches
himself as he realizes they are watching his reactions.
Oh, indeed. My Joey here’s the same. Got
separated from his parents and we joined up.
He’s a blessing, no doubt about it.
The older children are arranging the cups and spooning some sort of tea
from a tin into each cup, then pouring hot water from a pot of water
taken from the stove. They bring the first cup to Finegan. Finegan
says,
Oh, no, give the first cup to, ah, your
mistress here. . .
The orphan mistress smiles at his chivalry, and accept the cup, sipping
from it with half closed eyes as though it were something magical, a
source of rejuvenation. Finegan accepts the next cup.
I can’t help but wonder at your fields. I been
up and down this coast. Found some folks that
planted pumpkin, but most do vegetable gardens
in rows, and they work at that day and night.
You’ve got fields . .
The orphan mistress looks up from her cup of tea, suddenly realizing
what he’s missing from the picture.
I been at this business for some years. Planted
corn and amaranth, being vegetarian and all.