The Healing Read online

  And that youngish woman from the bus, looking more familiar now. The one in the Gypsy earrings, riding that bicycle. I know her name now, but not who she is. Wondering how I knew what she had, didn’t know what she had her ownself.

  I thought I knew you, she’s saying.

  Know me? I don’t say nothing, ’cause a lot of times when I’m healing, a lot of people claims they know me when they don’t. Some of them knows me from the brochures, others from them clippings, but none of them don’t know me. She do look kinda familiar, though.

  I met you once in a beauty parlor up in Louisville. That’s before you became a faith healer. I was reading in your brochure about you being raised in Louisville and originally being a beautician, and that’s where I’m from, and then I realized that I know you. I was on my way up North to go to school, I mean when I first met you, I don’t know if you remember me. It was my first time in a beauty parlor. It was my first time having my hair professionally straightened. Cornelia and Jaboti’s Beauty Shop.

  Oh, yes. You that little girl. You don’t look no older than you looked then, ’cept your hair’s a little shorter. It’s all those chemicals. Let me jot something down for you that you might start using, that is if you wanna keep straightening your hair. It ain’t got no chemicals at all in it, no synthetic chemicals, just natural ones, made by a company in Brazil, and so harmless you can eat it, but it gets your hair just as straight. That is, if you want it straight.

  Yeah, I heard them talking about that, that they was going to order something like that.

  That’s all they use in their beauty shop now, they don’t use them synthetic chemicals.

  I take out my notebook and jot the name of the product down for her and where it can be ordered. She can either order it from Cornelia and Jaboti’s Beauty Shop or from a wholesaler in Brazil.

  I was looking at you and thought I knew you, I say. I was thinking that you look familiar.

  I thought I knew you too, she’s saying again, and then she cut herself a piece of that strawberry pie. She don’t eat it, though, she just stand holding that pie and talking to me. I’m teaching school around here now, she say. I’m a schoolteacher. Harriet Tubman Junior High School, that’s a new multicultural junior high school. I teach General Science but we emphasize multicultural contributions to science, as well as the sciences of different peoples of color. We even have a chart of the stars that has the different African names for the stars. A lot of people they don’t know that Africans even named the stars, that different peoples, different so-called native peoples, have their own names for the stars, and have star charts just as accurate as the Chinese star charts, which are more ancient than the European star charts or even the Arabic ones or the star charts of the New World civilizations. Everybody’s got their own cosmology. Everybody’s got their own description of the universe. I helped them to form that school, though. Some people thought it should be a school just for African-American girls, “for colored girls only,” you know, but I thought it should be a school for everybody and that we should teach about everybody, because to be a true citizen of the world, you’ve got to know about everybody. Of course, we’ve had people to be interested in the concept of Harriet Tubman Junior High but then to take their children out of that school, even though they’re learning, and learning more in that school than some of the other schools, even some of the private schools, ’cause they just want them to know about themselves, you know, and telling us we’re teaching too much about the minorities and women. But they just want you to learn about themselves. You might be teaching ninety-five percent about them anyway and they want that other five percent too. My name’s Sally Canada. We’re the other Canadas, I always tell people we’re the other Canadas, you know, ’cause when people hear, especially people around here, ’cause you know she usedta work at one of the tobacco factories around here, the notorious Eva Canada, somebody said she tried to organize the first union in one of them tobacco factories around here, though that ain’t the Eva Canada that everybody know about, but everybody that usedta work with her there likes to claim they know her, or claim they don’t know her, but when they hear my name is Canada they think I’m kin to that other Canada, that notorious Eva Canada, you know, or they think that we’re all criminally insane. I was a little girl when I first heard about that Eva Canada, when I first saw a picture of her in one of those Police Gazette–type magazines, and so a lot of the other little kids would tease me about that other Canada, and sometimes little boys would even be afraid of me on account of that other Canada, on account of what she done to that man, so I either don’t tell people my name or I always make sure that people know that we’re the other Canadas, that we’re the other Canadas. Somebody say she out of prison now and a recluse somewhere. Maybe changed her name. You know when I told y’all that I didn’t know I was supposed to make a appointment, I knew I was supposed to make a appointment, I mean for the beauty shop, when I come into y’all’s beauty shop without a appointment, but I didn’t want to tell y’all my name. I guess I coulda lied and give y’all a different name, like McCambridge or something—I’ve even heard that Eva herself is out of prison now and has renamed herself McCambridge, after that old movie star and uses that name—but I don’t like to lie about my name. I didn’t want y’all to hear my name Canada, even Sally Canada, and think I’m one of the other Canadas. That’s one of those Canadas, I usedta hear people say. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to go to school up there up North, up in Vermont, ’cause I didn’t think Eva Canada’s name as notorious up North, I mean in the Northeast. That’s why when I got that scholarship to Bennington I went, because I was sure that nobody at Bennington woulda heard about Eva Canada. I was running from being identified with that other Canada. Even the Canadas that are the same Canadas don’t want to admit it. I know Lulabelle Canada even changed her name and moved to Atlantic City. Or the Canadas that keeps their names they’ll lie to you and tell you that they’re the true other Canadas, when we’re the true other Canadas. And there’s another group of Canadas, too, that ain’t any kin to Eva, and they claims they’s the true other Canadas, and we just fictionalize ourselves pretending to be the true other Canadas. And there’s even them that say that even Eva herself ain’t a true Canada. Did I tell you I heard her name’s McCambridge now? I usually don’t talk this much, though, you know, even when I’m teaching, but you know, after you healed me, I feel so free. Anyway, people around here call me Little Sal on account of Big Sal, you know, to distinguish me from Big Sal. Of course, my students call me Mizz Canada. I know a lot of people around here because I teach their children. You know, I usually don’t believe in faith healing myself. I’m usually kinda skeptical, being a science teacher, even though a lot of the early science, a lot of the alchemy is kinda mystical, but when I saw you heal Big Sal, who everybody knows is crazy, I thought you might be able to heal me. What craziness I have I’ve been trying to keep it to myself, to keep it a secret you know, to camouflage it. But when I saw you heal Big Sal, that’s when I decided to come up and be healed.

  She start to say something else, something about her healing, or Big Sal’s healing, or some of them other healings, but then Martha join us near the banquet table, You must be tired, say Martha.

  I am a bit.

  Must tire you out so them healings, says Martha. Although she’s made all that strawberry pie and all them sweet cakes, she’s only got a little corn pudding on her plate. I healed her colitis years ago, but she still just nibbles.

  I don’t feel it while I’m healing. While I’m healing I feel energized. It’s just afterwards that I do get sort of tired out.

  While He’s healing, corrects Zulinda.

  Yeah, that’s what I meant.

  Martha stands in front of me like a shield, then leads me up them basement stairs. The teacher-woman looks like she wants to follow us, but she stays eating her strawberry pie. When I glance back, she’s talking to Big Sal. Sane women again.

  Then you should
n’t be tired, you, says Zulinda, from behind.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  How did I first meet him? Not Nicholas, but the other one? The one come telling me Nicodemus free. Well, I’d come to the racetrack five o’clock in the morning ’cause they say you gotta come that early to watch them walk the horses and then most people have breakfast at the track restaurant. You can have breakfast at the outdoor part of the restaurant under one of them white and latticed canopies. The air smelled like lavender and fresh horse manure. Already a high-bred lady was sitting at one of them tiny breakfast tables. You know, one of them real wealthy-looking women, probably a racehorse owner. Somebody told me the way that you can tell wealthy people is they look well taken care of. Somebody told me that or I read it somewhere in a book. Mighta been a jockey’s wife, that woman look well taken care of, ’cause a lot of them jockey’s wives, especially them wives of them winning jockeys, them jockeys that’s got they business managers and they talent agents just like they’s movie stars or rock stars, them winning jockeys, looks well taken care of, but she look like a racehorse owner her own self, or the wife of a racehorse owner. ’Cause she look more well taken care of than even a winning jockey’s wife. One of them wealthy husbands who bought her her own racehorse. I read about one of them wealthy husbands, maybe a racehorse owner himself, who bought his wife her own racehorse. She probably have all the diamonds and luxuries, and maybe even her own plantation-mansion ’cause she look like a woman of the South, or a southern belle wannabe, you know there’s a lot of them northern womens that’s got they ideas of the South before the Civil War from them romantic movies and storybooks and likes to vacation on them southern plantations, the ones that they convert into inns—I even heard of one woman that always insists on staying in the old slave quarters that they’ve converted into a guest house. Well, this southern belle wannabe, she got all the diamonds and luxuries and her own plantation-mansion and renovated slave quarters, but she still bored, so he buy her her own racehorse. She wearing a cucumber green dress and one of those green cloche. The dress look like it made out of layers of mosquito curtain. She just nibbling coffee cake and looking disinterested in them parade of thoroughbreds. Maybe that’s how you can tell them wealthy people too.

  But me and him was standing at the fence together. I wasn’t sure what his nationality. He was wearing a business suit and I suppose he could be African American like me, but he had this other air about him, like a foreigner. You know, you seen them types of African Americans that got a kind of foreignness about them, some because they’s spent years abroad amongst foreign peoples, like them diplomats and students and Army brats, others just has a natural foreignness, and people ask them what they are, ’cause you can’t tell whether they’s African Americans or one of them colored foreigners, and’s always surprised when they say they’s African Americans. And you know a lot of them colored-looking foreigners they don’t want you to think they’s African American, so I didn’t know whether to ask him, Are you African American? ’cause he might be one of them colored foreigners that don’t want you to think they’s African American. Made me think of that Aladdin and his magical lamp. But he more dark-complexioned than that Aladdin, at least the Aladdin in the movies and the cartoons. I met me one of them Portuguese-type Africans once, though, that kinda remind me of him. One of them little Portuguese islands off the coast of Africa, where they’s colored people, but they ain’t as colored as the true Africans. What the name of that little island? I think it got a Portuguese-type name. Anyway, we was watching them thoroughbreds, and I don’t want to ask, Are you African American? ’cause he might be one of them colored-looking foreigners. A handsome brown thoroughbred were led past. That’s a fine horse, he commented. And there’s some kinda accent. It ain’t no Portuguese accent, though, or none of them other romance languages. Ain’t from Brazil or none of them Latin American countries. And that accent don’t sound Mediterranean.

  Yeah, I agreed, without turning, ’cause I didn’t want him to think I was spying on him. He’s a real challenger.

  He looked at me when I spoke, though, on account of my own accent. People call it a Geechee accent. Don’t sound like a accent to me, but other people call it a Geechee accent. Then some people tell me I got a blend of different types of accents.

  Are you from here in Saratoga? he asked.

  Naw, just visiting, and betting on the horses, you know.

  We didn’t say no more, just watched those horses. When they finished the parade, he asked me if I’d like to have breakfast with him. He himself he got some kinda foreign accent, like I said. It sounded kinda American and kinda foreign at the same time, though. Sound almost Eastern European, and I don’t think they’s many colored people in that Eastern Europe. But I know he ain’t no Russian or nothing. Then his accent kinda remind me of that famous actor supposed to be from Austria. Maybe there’s colored people in that Austria. Or maybe he one of them Dutch. I ain’t as countrified as some Americans who think that the only colored people is in America, or that the only Africans is in Africa.

  Where you from? I asked, when we’d found a table.

  Germany.

  Say what? But you’s African-looking. You a real German? I was thinking you kinda sound like that famous actor from Austria. Austria, they speak German, don’t they? Austria, ain’t that the same as Germany? I mean, I know the only colored people ain’t in America, I mean, I’ve seen Africans in Germany, but not any German Africans, I mean not any African Germans.

  He just smiled and arched an eyebrow. Believe it or not, there are real Germans from Germany who look like me, he said. Real Germans in Germany who look like just about everybody in the world, like you Americans. Every time I meet an American, though, I have to explain who I am. Most think I’m African. Or from one of the former Dutch colonies.

  We’ve been in Germany for many generations, though, just like you Africans here in America. I’m an African German or a German African, to use your American way of defining who we are.

  You speak good English, except there’s a little accent.

  Every American says that too. Of course, I speak good English. It’s only you Americans who don’t want to learn anybody’s language but your own. You celebrate that in yourselves, but to us Europeans it’s a flaw in the American character, one of the many flaws in the American character. You Americans are so good at pointing out the flaws in other “national character” but the flaws in your own “national character” you celebrate as virtues.

  I glance at the high-bred woman, who bites into a rice cake, then holds it up like it’s a tired moon. She looks toward us with curiosity, or rather at the African German with curiosity, then resumes her air of disinterest. It’s a open-air restaurant, and we’re sitting near a white railing. The railing’s white to match the canopy. He’s saying something about American culture. That American culture itself is a flaw, and even our own fascist tendencies, we celebrate as Americanism.

  I’m real German, he says. But everyone asks that. Every American. I own a little farm in Kentucky now, though.

  So how’d you get from Germany to Kentucky?

  I kept being mistaken for an immigrant in my own country, you know, although we’ve been in Germany many generations, since the seventeenth century. Hottentot slaves, Ethiopian traders, you know. But to be mistaken for an immigrant in your own country? I came to your country once and we traveled through this area, I mean Kentucky, some German friends and I, we went to Keeneland and visited some of the horse farms, and I liked the country. So after being mistaken for an immigrant in my own country, I decided to come to a country where I really am an immigrant.

  I was in New Mexico once and they mistook me for a immigrant, I mean a illegal immigrant. To tell the truth, I was kinda flattered myself. Course I had my passport to prove who I am. But if they’da tried to ship me back to Mexico I don’t think I’da been that flattered. And I don’t look like no Mexican to me, but there’s Mexicans that look like me
. I was in this little cantina, though, and they were raided by some immigration police, checking everybody’s papers, you know. I know you need your passport when you’re abroad, but that’s the first time I had to use my passport in my own country. But they say whenever you’re in those little border towns you gotta have your passport, like you’s in a foreign country, especially if you don’t look like their American idea.

  During the war, the Second World War, being non-Aryans, we left Germany and settled in Zurich, in Switzerland. After the war, we returned to Berlin, I was born after the war and don’t know all of that history, but I know we were exiles. But now we’re treated like auslanders again, like foreigners, so that’s why I decided to come to America. To be treated like a foreigner, I might as well be in a country where I am a true foreigner, where I am a true auslander. I spent some time in Alexandria, in Egypt. I thought I might settle there. But even there, everyone’s dream is America, you know. The official governments won’t tell you that. The ordinary people all over the world, they will tell you that their dream is America. Their politicians and intellectuals will complain about America, but the ordinary people themselves will tell you that America is their dream. They see the glamorous American movie stars, the glamorous American movies, and they think that’s America. When I told some of my friends in Alexandria that I was coming to America, they ail said that was their dream. My name is Josef Ehelich von Fremd.

  That sounds like a German name. Alexandria, ain’t that in Morocco? The only thing I know about Morocco is it’s supposed to be a land without rivers. I remember that because that was one of our geography questions in high school. I don’t know if it said Morocco’s the only land without rivers, but Morocco’s supposed to be a land without any rivers in it.