That Predictable Beat

The community hall was comfortably full on this Saturday night in July.  The benefits given by the Cape Verdean Benevolent Society were a way to raise money to bolster its growing treasury.  Most of all, these were occasions when the members of the community, of all ages, would come together to eat, dance, and listen to the music of their homeland.

The participants spoke in their dialect or English interchangeably.  The teenagers spoke entirely in English having been afflicted with the universal problem of first generation immigrants, shame that they were different.  The elderly spoke mostly in kriolu.   The young children and toddlers vaguely understood both.

The hall occupied a large building in New Bedford.  The dance was being held on the second floor.  The band played on a stage at the far end.  Chairs lined the walls to facilitate the traditional dances which moved counterclockwise around the floor.

The music was of the string variety.  It was lively like the people and had the effect of compelling everyone to move even if all they could manage to do was to clap their little hands or tap their canes or feet. 

The kitchen was  located on the first floor and for a modest fee one could feast on cachupa, linguica sandwiches, jugacida, and canja.

A middle aged woman sat primly in a chair midway in the room listening to the band.  She rarely worked in the kitchen.  She was not very skillful as a cook.  She was told she was intelligent and had a keen sense for business.  She was more often found making business plans along with the men.  They usually listened to her advice.

The society was created as a means to assist Cape Verdean immigrants with funerals and medical emergencies. Each week a small sum of money was collected from each member.  The money was invested in property, especially rental property to house newly arriving immigrants. 

Although she was good at matters of business, the woman could not read or write in any language.  She signed her name with an X.  She perceived that the white businessmen downtown at the bank and stores thought that she was ignorant.  She used this perception to her advantage.  Even though she could not speak English very well she was able to acquire a considerable amount of property.  She owned three houses with her husband.

The woman glanced down adoringly at her little granddaughter who was sitting upright in a chair.  The child's light brown hair was parted in the middle and hung down her back in two braids.  Hair escaped out of the braids at every opportunity as if electrified.

A gentleman approached and nodded as if to ask if he might dance with the child.  The child quickly slid off of the chair and spread out her arms.  She put one of her feet on each of his feet and they began their one two three, one to three around the floor. 

After a couple of rounds the music stopped.  The gentleman kissed the child on the forehead and led her back to her chair.  The child knew that now might be a good time to ask for something to eat.  Her grandmother never refused her.  They started toward the ground floor and soon encountered wonderful warm women with their hair pinned up, their jewelry dangling and wearing faded aprons and sturdy shoes. 

The woman never ate much in public or for that matter, at home.  She had come to the US at a time when nearly 17,000 people had starved to death in her dry and barren islands ineptly named "Cape Green".  A plate soon arrived with a heaping helping of rice with onions and beans which the child's Americanized mother called "Jag".  The child ignored the rice, which was daily fare, and instead reached for a large piece of bread and a piece of juicy red sausage that they called linguica.

The child could not remember how she had gotten home.  She had woken up when she heard her grandmother slide the chamber pot under the bed.  She didn't know why her grandmother used the chamber pot when the flush toilet was only two rooms away.  The woman realized that she had woken the child and she attempted to lull her back to sleep by rubbing her back.  The child lay perfectly still and surveyed the objects on her grandmother's bureau.  She loved the rosary beads and the statue of the Virgin.  She didn't have these things at home.  She liked the fact that you could light the candles and pray and the Virgin would help God to make your prayers come true.

The fog horn sounded at the lighthouse.  The big round clock standing on its four little feet ticked its steady beat.  She liked that sound, that predictable beat.  That and the predictable beat of the dancing were things that she could count on.  That and the presence of her grandmother in bed by her side brought comfort and a sense of order into her life.