Yes, Old Massa William, him used to come visit her too. Bring little presents, mostly rum, acted all nice with her, made her feel good, even with him crinkly liver-spotty skin, Stella tell me. Them used to sit, talk. Him, looking to discover what going on in the slave village. Stella, to claim the priceless gift of power over others by telling him. And after him have him way with her, Old Massa William kept promising, one day him going set her free. Give her plenty coins. A slave even, to do her bidding. She know was a lie, that nothing going come of it, not while Mistress Margaret, him wife, still alive.

Not long after me born, Old Massa William died, sitting in the Great House parlour, sipping him best rum. Stella tell me is why she name me little Will, to honour the old man passing. But in me heart, I know is a crippling lie. Calling me little Will was an act of revenge for all of Massa’s beatings. Of sacrifice to the ancient Ancestor god. Of throwing me, her first born, into a wilderness of un-belonging. All the while knowing that I, William, is Massa son. Him first flesh and blood, born whole.

And from that naming day, I come to be like a thorn in the side of them both. A thorn that burrow deep inside and start to fester.

Plantation

Floating. Dreaming. Slowly turning. Watery dreams like me back in the womb again. Them long time finish. Me daytime world fill up with so much coming and going, I fall into a dead sleep, till Stella shake me back to life again. And when I wake, always reaching back to the short time I spend with her as a baby. Remembering how she pour all her mother feelings into me when she bathed and cuddled me. Sang old songs she learn as a pickney from a faraway place them call Africa.

‘A land me never been to, but is running hot in me veins,’ she say.

And when she singing, her face used to light up from unseen memories, bubbling up from the words of them Africa songs. Songs bout places, I come to know, I was meant to be born in. Was a time full up with happiness, even with them dark passing clouds and I cling to them memories, hold them tight inside.