The Conjure WomanChesnutt, Charles W. (Charles Waddell)
General
The Conjure Woman
Chesnutt, Charles W. (Charles Waddell)
African Americans -- Fiction; Southern States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Wen I wuz a gal 'bout eighteen or nineteen," she confided, "de w'ite
folks use' ter sen' me ter town ter fetch vegetables. One day I met a'
ole conjuh man name' Jerry Macdonal, an' he said some rough, ugly things
ter me. I says, says I, 'You mus' be a fool.' He didn' say nothin', but
jes' looked at me wid 'is evil eye. Wen I come 'long back, dat ole man
wuz stan'in' in de road in front er his house, an' w'en he seed me he
stoop' down an' tech' de groun', jes' lack he wuz pickin' up somethin',
an' den went 'long back in 'is ya'd. De ve'y minute I step' on de spot
he tech', I felt a sha'p pain shoot thoo my right foot, it tu'n't under
me, an' I fell down in de road. I pick' myself up an' by de time I got
home, my foot wuz swoll' up twice its nachul size. I cried an' cried an'
went on, fer I knowed I'd be'n trick' by dat ole man. Dat night in my
sleep a voice spoke ter me an' says: 'Go an' git a plug er terbacker.
Steep it in a skillet er wa'm water. Strip it lengthways, an' bin' it
ter de bottom er yo' foot'.' I never didn' use terbacker, an' I laid
dere, an' says ter myse'f, 'My Lawd, wa't is dat, wa't is dat!' Soon ez
my foot got kind er easy, dat voice up an' speaks ag'in: 'Go an' git a
plug er terbacker. Steep it in a skillet er wa'm water, an' bin' it ter
de bottom er yo' foot.' I scramble' ter my feet, got de money out er my
pocket, woke up de two little boys sleepin' on de flo', an' tol' 'em ter
go ter de sto' an' git me a plug er terbacker. Dey didn' want ter go,
said de sto' wuz shet, an' de sto' keeper gone ter bed. But I chased 'em
fo'th, an' dey found' de sto' keeper an' fetch' de terbacker--dey sho'
did. I soaked it in de skillet, an' stripped it 'long by degrees, till I
got ter de en', w'en I boun' it under my foot an' roun' my ankle. Den I
kneel' down an' prayed, an' next mawnin de swellin' wuz all gone! Dat
voice wus de Spirit er de Lawd talkin' ter me, it sho' wuz! De Lawd have
mussy upon us, praise his Holy Name!"
Very obviously Harriet had sprained her ankle while looking at the old
man instead of watching the path, and the hot fomentation had reduced
the swelling. She is not the first person to hear spirit voices in his
or her own vagrant imaginings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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