248
Martinique
Sketches.
ly,—up and down every yellow street, and through the Savane, and over the bridges of the river. Passers-by pause to look down, and cry " bonjoii', che !" Idle men stare at some pretty washer, till she points at them and cries :—"Gadê Missié-à ka guetté nou!—anh!—anh!— anh !" And all the others look up and repeat the groan—"anh!—anh!—anh!" till the starers beat a retreat. The air grows warmer ; the sky blue takes fire : the great light makes joy for the washers ; they shout to each other from distance to distance, jest, laugh, sing. Gusty of speech these women are : long habit of calling to one another through the roar of the torrent has given their voices a singular sonority and force : it is well worth while to hear them sing. One starts the song,— the next joins her ; then another and another, till all the channel rings with the melody from the bridge of the Jardin des Plantes to the Pont-bois :— " C ' e s t m o i n q u i té k a lavé, Passé, r a c c o m m o d é : Y té néf hè disouè O u mette m o i n d e r h ô , — Y c h e m o i n assous b o u a s m o i n ; — L a p l i e té k a t o m b é — L é f a n m o i n assous tête m o i n ! D o u d o u x , ou m'abandonne! M o i n p a ni p è s o n n e p o u soigné m o i n . " *
. . . A melancholy chant—originally a Carnival improvisation made to bring public shame upon the perpetrator of a cruel act ;—but it contains the story of many of these lives — the story of industrious affectionate women temporarily united to brutal and worthless men * I t w a s I w h o washed a n d ironed a n d m e n d e d ; — a t n i n e o ' c l o c k at night thou didst p u t m e o u t - o f - d o o r s , with m y child in m y a r m s , — the rain w a s f a l l i n g , — w i t h m y p o o r straw mattress u p o n m y h e a d ! . . . D o u d o u x ! thou dost a b a n d o n m e ! . . . I h a v e n o n e t o care f o r
me.