A short story by Rama Kaba
“Ouch!”
“Oh hush up now child, I didn’t scrub ya too hard!” Lucinda snapped at her niece struggling in the bathing tub outside in her courtyard. She avoided making eye contact with her sister’s daughter as sweat rolled down her light cheeks from the sun’s glare peeking through her straw-hat. When she found Fatima covered in dirt from playing with the neighbours’ kids, she snapped at the girl. She knew she scared 10-year-old Fatima, but really, what did the child expect when she was covered in mud, Lucinda thought. She instructed Fatima to await her in the courtyard as she went and got hot water from the house.
When she returned with the water, she saw Fatima lying on the ground, tanning herself.
“What’cha doing child?” she screamed at Fatima. Did the girl not understand how dark she’ll be if she keeps lying in the sun? Lucinda wondered. Had she not stressed enough the importance of the shade provided by buildings and trees?
“I’m tanning, Auntie. Laura told me she does it all the time.” Fatima said, turning onto her back and smiling up at her aunt with bright, gapped teeth.
“Well, Laura is light, so she can afford to tan. But you on the otha’ hand, should be hiding under the bushes.” Lucinda ignored the confused look in her niece’s eyes and lifted her up from the ground.
Fatima got into the bathing pot and let her aunt pour warm water over her. She was about to sigh with glee when she started to cough.
“Auntie, what is that smell? Why does the water smell like the pool?” Lucinda ignored Fatima’s question again. She picked up the scrub, dipped it into her homemade soap, and scrubbed her.
“Oww, where’s my regular sponge?” Fatima cried.
Lucinda rolled her eyes at Fatima, “Child, if ya donna stop moving about, I’m gonna whack you! Ya too damn black for me to use a sponge. I need to scrub the damn dirt off ya!” Fatima looked down at her aunt’s bent head, and didn’t really understand why her aunt was upset with her. Even though her aunt preferred to spend most of her summer indoors and away from the sun, Fatima still loved spending summers with her. Her aunt allowed her certain freedoms that her parents denied.
Lucinda continued her speech, not noticing that her niece was roughly scratching her skin. “I told ya motha, but she neva listens to me. I’ve gone and told her, not to marry that damn Black man, but nope, she had to go and do it. And ya know what, I was right. I told her she was gonna have the blackest baby ever, and boy was you ugly when you were born. So black, it was hard to make out your features.”
Lucinda, caught up, ignored Fatima’s tears and continued her monologue, scrubbing her.
“I told her, this world ain’t no place for dark-skin people, especially girls! I told her—I told her, but she wouldna listen to me, nor would she start bleaching ya. Well I have to take matters into my own hand, otherwise, ya just gonna do it yourself and end up looking like a raccoon. Those damn dark-skin girls can’t even get that right! I told—where the hell ya think ya going?” Lucinda yelled at Fatima as she jumped from the tub and ran naked into the house.
Fatima had run into the house on a mission. Her eyes were burning, and all she wanted to do was wash them with cold water. She was in such a rush that she missed the flabbergasted expressions on her uncle and his friends’ faces. She ran straight into the washroom and flushed her eyes with cold water. When that felt good, she decided to put her face under the running water. She let the icy water run over her throbbing eyes and sighed in relief. She could vaguely hear her aunt and her uncle speaking, but couldn’t make out the words under the gushing water.
She needed ice, so she ran past her aunt and uncle and bumped against the table in the hallway, letting the lamp crash to the floor. She ignored the pain in her right leg, and the bloody trail she was marking on her aunt’s beige carpet and continued her way to the kitchen. All she cared about was getting ice. She opened the freezer, grabbed two ice cubes and put them over her eyelids, and leaned against the fridge, exhausted. Her eyes were stinging and she didn’t know why, except that it must been something her aunt used while bathing her. She didn’t understand what had gotten into her aunt lately.
“What the heck is wrong with ya?” Lucinda asked her naked niece leaning against her fridge. Fatima remained silent. She grabbed Fatima’s shoulder demanding an answer, but Fatima just hissed in pain. She noticed that Fatima’s eyes were swollen and closed, and her skin had a purple hue. It looked as if a bee had stung her niece’s chocolate eyes. Lucinda fell to the floor at Fatima’s feet. She did this! She did this to her niece, a child she promised to love and look after. She was trying to help her young niece who thought it was okay to lie in the sun, who thought she was beautiful when she was blacker than a starless night. Fatima was too young to understand the teasing, bullying, and shame she would have to endure. Not everyone is as strong as her mother, no, Lucinda thought, looking over her niece’s head at her own reflection in her stainless steel fridge, not everyone is as strong. She looked at Fatima, and said, “I didn’t give ya a chance to find ya strength.”
“Auntie, why can’t I see? Why can’t I see you?” Lucinda remained silent. What was there to say? She heard the fear in Fatima’s little voice. She heard her husband’s muffled voice behind her, and she held her breath, wondering if she would ever be the girl she was born as. Would she ever be forgiven? Beauty was such a fickle notion.
“Hun, I think you need to use more bleach next time, or maybe buy her Topiclear for her birthday!” Lucinda heard her husband say. She wanted to tune out his friends’ laughter in the background and their knowing eyes, but she couldn’t—she wasn’t that strong. She let her eyes slowly pass over Fatima’s dark skin, now bruised with a purple hue, and wondered if she would ever be forgiven.
