She woke up sweating, to the sound of tree frogs singing out sunrise. She felt unreal. Is which world she living in; this daddy tree, or the nightmare daddy world?
Benta flew her down the forest floor. Tan-Tan’s belly still didn’t like the feeling of dropping down through the daddy tree branches. It was a relief when they slid smoothly into a corridor made by two of the giant buttress roots of the daddy tree, at the foot of one of its massive trunks. The root corridor was almost a storey high. Tan-Tan held up her lantern against the darkness, wishing for a flashlight from back home, Toussaint home. She slid off Benta’s back. Her alpagat sandals-them sunk ankle deep in leaf mould and dry twigs. The buttress roots took a long, low slope to the ground, gradual enough to run up them if she had felt to.
*Mind where you step.*
It was humid here on the ground, not like the leaf-rustling breeziness of up in the daddy tree. The heat weighed on Tan-Tan. It was dark. And damp. It was like breathing in warm water. Sweat was already running down between her breasts. Her thick hair was holding in the heat, twisting into locks in the dampness. Shy of Benta’s eyes, she took the long walk round to the other side of one of the buttress roots to do her business. No such thing as paper. And when her period came? Blood cloths from Benta, she supposed. She wiped herself with some dead leaves, wincing as they scraped her. Benta took her back up in the daddy tree.
That morning, Benta and Chichibud’s family foraged for their breakfast. Abitefa climbed onto Benta’s back and the two of them went winging off through the daddy tree to get grubs from a neighbour to replace the ones that Tan-Tan had poisoned. Chichibud gave Tan-Tan a carry pouch woven out of vine. He and Zake took her out into the daddy tree and showed her where to find tree frog nests to raid. Zake shyly tried out his Anglopatwa on her, pointing out edible shoots and the best hand and foot holds for climbing. When they found tree frog eggs, Chichibud and Zake just sucked out the raw contents from the shells right there, embryos and all. Tan-Tan felt queasy watching them.
“Oonuh have any way to cook in your home?” she asked. “I could take some of these eggs back and make a omelette.”
“We have a coal pot in the kitchen, doux-doux, but we don’t use it plenty. We can’t make flames catch the daddy tree. You could use it today, but you go have to learn to eat your food raw. It better for you so; you could taste the life in it.”
She preferred her food good and dead. Trying to keep her find of eggs safe in their pouch, she climbed clumsily down towards the level where Chichibud and Benta had their nest. Two-three douen pickney saw her struggling. They consulted with each other then leapt into the air to swoop past her on their wing flaps, laughing shu-shu and tapping her on the head as they rushed by. She yelled at them to stop. They didn’t listen. Twice she nearly lost her balance. When she finally reached to the nest level most of the eggs were broken. Their slime dripped through the carry sack down her leg. She was trembling with anger and effort. She went inside to climb the rope to the eating room. Three eggs survived that jaunt. She had to pick out yolky, budding masses from inside them before she could finally make herself something to eat. Tree frogs were small animals. The omelette she got from the three eggs would have just filled a tablespoon. There was no salt.
She chewed down the omelette determinedly—she’d burnt it, and Chichibud had made her put out the fire. She wasn’t going to go hungry all the time, oui? She couldn’t bring herself to eat living beasts or compost grubs that grew in douen people’s mess, but there must be a way to cook for herself. She spat out a sharp piece of tree frog shell.
The forest floor; she could go down there and forage and cook what she found, the way Chichibud had shown her and Antonio their first day on New Half-Way Tree. She was going to be going down into the bush regular anyway. Best make some use of the trip while she’d be down there.
Could she make the climb down by herself? She got her knife and carry pouch, found a lantern and a stoppered container into which she poured the lantern’s oil. There were matches—that new creation from the settlement of Bounding Makak—beside the lantern. Oil, matches and lantern went into the carry pouch, which she slung across her body.
Outside, she contemplated the daddy tree trunk nearest Chichibud and they’s nest. She’d climbed it today, a little bit. It had been hard work, but she would get used to it. She set her hands and feet in the first set of holds and started down. Douen people were only stopping what they were doing to stare at her. No-one greeted her, no-one spoke. She clambered down past a douen man climbing up the other way. They did an awkward dance of exchanging hand and foot holds. “Tallpeople,” he muttered as he edged round her. “Chichibud and Benta bring misfortune ’pon we heads when they bring you here.” He was far above her before she even thought to reply.
He right, said the Bad Tan-Tan voice. You is a trial, you is a wicked crosses for people to bear.
Why that hinte over there watching at her? Scrutinizing her business. Tan-Tan waved mock-cheerily at the douen woman and skinned her teeth in a pretend grin. The hinte flew away. Tan-Tan kept climbing. More douen people came out of their nests to ogle. Anger heat rose in Tan-Tan, took over her voice and tongue. She stopped where she was and shouted out to them:
“Morning, sir, morning, ma’am, howdy lizard pickney. Oonuh keeping well this fine hot day? The maggots growing good in the shit? Eh? It have plenty lizards climbing in your food? Good. I glad.” She waited. Some of them went back into their homes, others found other reasons to be busy. They dispersed. The rhetorical words had stirred the Robber Queen deep in Tan-Tan, quelled the Bad Tan-Tan voice a little. Nobody else stared at her for the rest of the climb down, except one or two irrepressible pickney. She didn’t know how the douens got word to one another to leave her alone and she didn’t care. The Robber Queen had triumphed.
The climb down was a good half an hour of skinned-up knees and blistered hands before she reached the forest floor again. Legs and arms trembling with the effort she’d made, she fumbled in the dark for her lantern. She spilled much of the oil, but finally managed to get it lit. She stepped out from between the buttress roots into the womb-close dark.
It had a jumbie bush right in front of her. She edged round the sharp poison thorns. The thorns caught light her lantern threw on the bush, created a warning glow of fuzz on the underside of each leaf. And there, not far off, was jumbie dumb cane. The forest was thick all round her; between foliage and the dark she could scarcely see more than a few metres in any direction. The sombre bush swallowed her lantern’s weak light. She just hoped it was enough light to keep away mako jumbies, yes.
A straggly passion fruit vine hugged on tight-tight to a dead tree, using it as a ladder up to the sun. So much Earth-type flora the exiles had invaded this world with already.
She could see a path leading off into the distance, but that would be douen-made. She didn’t want to see any of them right now. She went in the opposite direction. She heard a crackling noise like feet scuffling the dead leaves on the forest floor. She froze, peering round her into the darkness. Is two trees that, growing close together? Or is the legs of a mako jumbie? No, must be trees, she could see the leaves on them. And is what the hell just moved at the corner of her eyesight? Oh. A manicou rat humping along a low branch. Tan-Tan relaxed a little at the sight of the small, familiar animal. It looked plump and nice. She wished she knew how to trap. Roast manicou was some of the sweetest meat in the world.