I met Donnette, my sister, from my father years after I had first found out about her, read Tying/Binding to you, a tale of Obeah/Juju. I was living with my children along with the Nanny and my junior sister. The wicked baby father was around still and I had my hair salon which was doing very well. My dad called me one day while I was working in my shop. He told me that Donnette, whom I have never met, had been given a visa and was coming to America. I was curious as to how he knew, since I knew or thought they had no contact with each other.
Daddy explained that she had contacted one of his eleven brothers and sisters and had gotten his phone number. My father sounded happy, as he had always carried a guilt with him of having no relationship with his first born due to the Obeah which her mother did in her attempt of holding him to her forever. I too was excited at the thought of meeting this woman who was much older than me, but was such a mystery to me.
She was my sister, my blood, regardless if she did not pass through the same birthing passage as I. I asked my dad where was she staying and he answered “with me of course”, I chuckled and begged him to allow her to stay with me. He told me if she agreed then so be it. Daddy picked her up from the airport and brought her to his home. My mom welcomed her, but as I have always told you in my post my mother was no ordinary woman, and even though she kept mum, she had an eerie feeling about this woman but kept it to herself .
Donnette was dark in complexion, and a very pretty girl she resembled daddy as I and my junior sister did. I was at my parents house at first light, and as I stepped in I gave her a big hug and welcomed her to America. I told her that I had to go to my shop but I would pick her up in the evening to come and stay with me, if she agreed and she did. In the evening my junior sister and I picked Donnette up and brought her to my home. This was Thursday evening and on Friday and Saturday I took her to my salon to be with me while I worked for the day, after work we went shopping and we tried to catch up, but something was not right with Donnette, there was an undertone of almost hate, which I ignored but my junior sister also saw and noted. There were times when she would shout at me or my sister and then when I gave her that “Excuse Me” look she backed down, but not for long.
The next day which was Sunday, I got up to go to church. I was the Leadress (female leader) of a Revival/Zion church, so I dressed in full white and wrapped my head in blue and so did my junior sister who decided to go with me although she was not a member of the Church as I was. I asked Donnette if she wanted to go to church with me and she looked at me from head to toe in curiosity, made a face and said no. We left for church, while the nanny looked after the children, and also prepared the Sunday meal. That night after I returned home and had eaten my dinner, played with the children, Donnette, my other sister and I sat on my porch and played a little catch up. While we spoke, there was something within her personality which was very dominant. I am dominant, but I am nice, I know I am nice, because I love people and respect them.
I am aware of my strength and I use it in a way to show my confidence, but I do not offend anyone with it and for that I am loved by many. Her dominance was almost like a tyrant, she got cross very easily and when she did her eyes flashed like a rabid dog, and she seemed to snarl when anyone disagreed with her, all this observation was made within the few days of meeting her. My elation in meeting her began to dwindle. Her anger would flare up for a second and come down in another, wild mood swing almost like she had Bi-Polar disorder, little did I know I was to find out that night, and little did she know who I was.
I went to bed that night, deciding as I bedded down that Donnette had to leave my house. She was not nice, and I berated myself for being so gullible and naive, but something in my head comforted me by saying you did the right thing. I jumped up in the middle of the night, the time spelled 2:30 on the cable box, on my dresser was the skinniest woman I have ever seen. She looked as if she was in her fifties, dressed in brown clothing with her skinny legs crossed as she perched on the dresser looking at me. I asked her sternly, “who are you?” to which she answered “Miss Burrie”. I asked what she wanted and she said she had come here with my sister Donnette.
Then she pointed in the direction of my parlor, there through my closed bedroom door I could see two small children sitting on my couch watching television. Miss Burrie told me the little boy’s name was Sam and I forget the name was Noelle and they wearing my children night clothes, trying to pass off as my children . They were around five or six years old, but they were spirits, dead! I asked Miss Burrie why had she come with Donnette and she said “you will see” and then she disappeared. I went back to sleep, but I had made a decision.
It was Monday morning and I had pulled my junior sister into the room and told her what I had seen last night. When I got to the shop, I call my mother and tell her also, she advised me not to tell my father which I already had no itention of doing, but when night came I had a surprise for Donnette, so I spent the rest of the day putting that plan in motion. I sent my sister to the store to buy a brand new Dutch pot, some cigars and other certain ingredients. An hour before I was to go home, I called the nanny and told her to get the children dressed so that when I came home she would leave and take them to the park for about an hour which she did. As I pulled up to the house, we saw Donnette sitting out on the porch, her face set very surly as it often was since I met her. I parked and put my head tie on as did my sister and went upstairs.
The Nanny had left and I opened the door, placed the pot on the ground, added my ingredients then I lit a match and dropped it inside. It blazed high while I then lit a cigar and puffed the smoke around. I began to kick the pot throughout the house as my sister walked behind me reciting psalms 136. The house was cloudy with smoke and the pot set ablaze with fire as I kicked it through the house chanting my own prayer as I watched Miss Burrie and the little girl run out, the little boy Sam, tried to hide, but I was determined to see him go and eventually he did.
This took about an hour. After I was done, I went straight to my room to wash my body. When I came out of my en suite bathroom, there was a knock on my room door and it was Donnette. The first thing she said was “Mi never know sey mi sista ah madda”, which meant she had no I idea that I was a spiritual woman, and then she informed me that she wanted to leave and go back to my dad’s house. I nodded and told her that I would take her in the morning, which I did.
Two weeks after I took Donnette to my parents house, my mother called me and told me that my father was in pain with his stomach. My mother believed that the pain was not natural and requested to see Padrino. When I was a small girl growing up in Jamaica my father suffered with a very bad stomach problem, so bad that the doctors operated on him twice, leaving him with a very long scar in the middle of his stomach. He said it was ulcer, I believe it was the remnants of what the woman had been doing to him over time before he found out. I picked my parents up and as usual my junior sister was there with me and took them to see my Padrino, he told my father that someone had given him some herbs which they brought with them from another country, to this my father answered, yes.
Donnette had brought cerasse tea ( a bush which is used for tea in Jamaica) and he had been drinking it in the mornings. Padrino said this was the source of the pain and he also said the medicine was given to her by a woman to give to my dad, and it was meant to kill him. The mother, scorned, used the opportunity of Donnette coming to America, to finish the job against my father. Padrino had to do many thing to heal my dad which worked and the creasse was thrown away. We asked Donnette if it was her mother who gave her the creasse to give it to daddy and she admitted it. We did not tell her what Padrino said, and we were happy to see her go. My father continued to keep in touch with her, never blaming her for anything. I believe he still carried the guilt of abandoning her while she was young. I have never seen or spoke to her again, neither do I ever wish to. Perhaps all these doing were on account of her wicked mother, but she was the vessel which carried the wickedness, and the short experience with her was not a pleasant one. I heard through my father that her visa was taken away and she can no longer visit America.
Gbogbo èèyàn oníwà tùtù kọ́ lonínúure. /
It’s not everyone with a quiet disposition that is kind-natured…..Yoruba Proverb!
[Appearance can be deceptive.]