After reading Chapters 5-8 of Breath, Eyes, Memory it is quite evident that the pace of the novel is beginning to pick up.  From Sophie’s flight to New York to her initial meeting with her mother, I definitely felt indulged in her emotional apprehension and perturb.  With this being said, what I found most enthralling would have to be the relationship that the novel establishes thus far for Sophie and her mother.  This is founded by her very first greeting with her mother, Martine after getting off of the plane and arriving in New York.  Martine begins to explain to Sophie that education is the only way to gain reverence, and though I agree with this to a certain extent, it is lucid that Martine is more so inveigling Sophie to strive to be what her and Atie couldn’t be.  In ways, it is as if she is trying to vicariously live through Sophie, especially when she states, “If you make something of yourself in life, we will succeed.”  This brings me to another pertinent point during this discussion, which is that of Martine emphasizing her and Atie.  From her speech, she makes it seem as if Atie and herself (two women) are her biological parents, instead of a man and woman.  I say this because it is later pointed out in Chapter 8 that Sophie is the product of rape.  Throughout these 4 chapters, Sophie’s distressed inquisitiveness as to why she had no father, or why she didn’t resemble her mother all come crashing down on her, and even reminded me of Tituba’s situation.  Martine had never seen her rapist’s face, so for her to now look at Sophie, who she knows carries no comparability, implies something that is arduous to fathom.  This in itself definitely stood out to me, and I am curious to see how this will affect their relationship throughout the novel’s remainder.

To begin, I would like to address Edwidge Danticat’s use of language already established in the very first pages of the text.  Her use of imagery and rhetorical devices thus far have definitely enthralled me to keep on reading, and this was just from the first four chapters!  With this being said, I found quite a few things engrossing to say the least, but the one most notable would have to be Atie’s recurrent refusal of Sophie’s Mother’s Day card.  Although we initially find out that Atie is her Aunt, and Martine is her actual mother, I still found Atie’s strong sense to incessantly refuse Sophie’s declaration of love intriguing  Especially after Sophie trying to give it to her in her time of despondency, and made it quite lucid that it was meant to express their loving relationship (despite Atie not being her biological mother). It actually leads me to believe that there is a perhaps a bigger connection to the card, and makes me ponder on why Atie is so persistent on Sophie actually giving it to its rightful owner — her actual mother.  Even when it is revealed that Martine has sent instructions for Sophie to come back to her in New York, Atie specifically places the card beside Sophie’s passport, stipulating that it be delivered to her mother.  From implications and deduction made in the text, I see this card symbolizing something much profounder than that of just a Mother’s Day gift.  Whether this plays a part resonating throughout the rest of the novel, or just within the next few upcoming chapters, I am excited to see where the novel is heading.

As I began to start in my previous posts about relationships, I would like to end Tituba’s tale with it as well.  Upon finishing the novel’s second part, I couldn’t help but realize how vital the bonds Tituba formed, ultimately made her character — and this was essentially conveyed even until the very last sentence of the novel.  Although it was implied, Tituba enforces the notion (despite his deception towards her in the states), that her relationship with John Indian is substantiated by her love; whereas her relationship with Christopher is marked by his shift of her gender.  That is, Christopher represents Tituba by her gender in much of the same way that the Puritans characterize her by her race.  Because of this representation, in her return home, she continues to work out her individuality and her role within society.  Thus, the relationships that Tituba preserves throughout the course of the novel epitomize whenever two entities meet, and the feel of repeated diverge and discussion that usually come with it.  In my opinion, by its end, the novel accentuates that this debate is not necessarily a consequence of Black experiences of dispersion, colonialism, or even slavery.  For example, Benjamin Cohen d’Azevedo serves to elucidate the ways that religion, like race and gender, serve to estrange and externalize individuals.   I find it interesting to note here that when Tituba takes Iphigene into her home and tries to explain her life experiences, he cannot comprehend the oppression that Benjamin received.  He questions Tituba concerning Benjamin’s “whiteness,” and is perplexed as to why he would be treated differently then the other white people.  I see this as Conde’s way of signifying a common bond in the case of Benjamin and the rest of the Puritan’s; implying that just because they are all white, doesn’t mean that they will share a dynamic relationship.

Through Tituba’s movement in and out of the Americas, one realizes that the earnest of describing one’s self is basically illusory.  When she returns to the Caribbean, her experiences in the U.S. affect her relationships with the Bajans she encounters, and she conclusively has been changed by her time in the U.S.  When a planter mentions “Well, witch, what they should have done to you in Boston, we’re going to do here!” it is quite clear that her death in Caribbean, is the very death she seemed to evade in Salem.

As per my preceding posts, Chapters 8-12 of Part II once again proves the significance of the relationships Tituba forms during the course of her life.  Specifically, I would like to look at Chapter 8 when Tituba finds herself consumed into not only a Jewish household, but that of a recent widower, Benjamin Cohen d’Azevedo.  For such a sudden acquaintance, the two experience a plethora of close, and ultimately sensual moments with one another.  Their relationship goes from him explaining his fixation with the abuse of Jewish people to Tituba, to the longing of his dead wife (of whom Tituba accepts gifts of her clothing).  Knowing the pain that he is experiencing and recalling the rituals of bringing the dead to speak with the living, Tituba is actually able to bring Benjamin’s wife back to him.  With this being said, we see the emotional bond between Tituba and Benjamin transform into a sexual one; especially when she begins to explicate accounts of their sensual intimacy.    I found it compelling that she still mentions her longing for John Indian, but still continues to engage and find sexual pleasure in Benjamin.  She even describes Benjmain as her “misshappen lover” due to his bent and deformed body.  This can be essentially scrutinized as one thing — need.  On a basic level, they are satisfying their sexual desires, but more importantly Tituba enables Benjamin to talk to his dead wife.  One would imply that this would enhance their relationship in a positive way, but from Benjamin’s side, that is not the case.

This is enforced even more so, when Benjamin mentions that he “preferred to have a slave,” rather than to remarry.  So in this case, Tituba was still an attendant to his beckon call, but also a mistress at the same time.  Yet despite being in a sexual relationship, Tituba still remained in a subservient position.  Being that Tituba was able to bring back his dead wife, he didn’t want to give that up, even if that meant putting Tituba in an subordinate position.  His initial response to her request for freedom (even though he does grant her freedom subsequently), is vehement at the very least, especially when he states: “Never, never, you hear me.  If you leave I’ll lose her a second time.  Don’t ever mention it again.”  Ultimately, in my opinion Benjamin’s relationship with Tituba only as means of connection with his dead wife — at any and all costs.

It is apparent from reading Chapters 2 to 7 of Part II, that sexuality and feminism are definitely key themes in comprehending Tituba’s story.  Although this was implicit from the previous chapters, the scenes Conde portray here, bolster this claim ten-fold.  With this being said, there were two specific scenes that stood out in conjunction with this, and that caught my attention.  This also brings me back to my previous blog posts concerning that of relationships, particularly when we witness Elizabeth Parris visit Tituba when she is imprisoned in Salem.  Elizabeth Parris is extremely contrite, as she is now filled with guilt after realizing the scheme regarding Tituba so late. Here we learn that this repent may truly only be arising because the conspiracy against Tituba is now affecting the community and a large number of women who are innocent, but it can also be implied that Elizabeth’s sorrow is genuine.  Her confession that all of these women are being tried for witchcraft because of Abigail, further proves that her remorse is veritable.  Her request for forgiveness for not only herself, but also for Betsey who was one reason for Tituba’s confinement took a great amount of courage; but from Elizabeth’s more amicable personality, this was something I expected.

Tituba’s relationship with her cellmate Hester was also very important in fortifying elements of the story.  Conde was able to integrate the essence of feminism into the story simply through Tituba and Hester’s (although seemingly short lived) relationship.  When they are both in the cell discussing their situations and men, Conde tends to contrast their ideals concerning of being a woman in society.  When Hester describes Satan as “…sometimes being a black man,” I was definitely a little brought back by her principles, but it definitely drew the line diverging her and Tituba.  In a way, I scrutinized not only this scene, but their relationship as a whole as a way to contrast the morals or values of a white feminist and black womanist.  Tituba’s relationship with Hester has thus far been one of the strongest connections she has made, and Hester’s hanging is proving to have a huge toll on Tituba because of this.

As I read closer to the end of Part I of Maryse Conde’s tale, it seems that my preceding blog post concerning relationships was indeed true.   This coincides with an interesting event that transpires in Chapter 11, when John Indian demeaningly reminds Tituba of her skin color and the fear that she and all black people put into that of all whites.  He repetitively seems to want to enforce the notion that Tituba’s skin color will only devalue her not only in society, but as a human being.  At the same time, we see religion more thoroughly conveyed here as well when Abigail and Betsey start screaming and acting out during breakfast.  When they are calmed down, Abigail acts out again in at church and in front of the whole community, although Betsey does not.  Tituba uses this opportunity to try and figure out exactly what is prompting these sporadic actions between the two when she questions Betsey, but instead is insolently turnt away, when she denounces her as a pure evil “negress.”  This sudden change in personality that occurs in Betsey between the previous chapters and now was quite intriguing to scrutinize.  In my opinion, Conde uses this specific scene to convey a very notable message underlying that of race and the malice intentions shared amongst the people Tituba meets, despite their initial bonding.  This is augmented even more so in Chapter 1 of Pt. II where Samuel, Anne, Abigail, and Betsey vilify Tituba as a witch, despite her proclaiming her innocence.

As I continued to read Tituba’s story, it is becoming quite lucid how imperative the development of relationships are to her story.  As we see the contention develop between her and Susanna, it ultimately leads to her and John being sold to Samuel Parris.  We soon find out that he is a malicious man, who preaches the word of God, however follows the complete opposite, but we are more importantly introduced to his wife and daughter; who play a key role in developing Tituba as a character and further enhancing her story. On Tituba’s voyage to America we see the contrasting ideals of Elizabeth Parris’ and herself, with Parris’ personality coinciding with that of  receptiveness and credence, whereas Tituba’s is more so of sensuality and ecstasy.  Though their viewpoints are so divergent, I found it very engrossing how easily it was for them to still develop a close bond, and I attribute this mostly to Parris’ susceptibility as a human being.  This goes for her daughter Betsey as well, who like her mother, shares this same sense of susceptibility.  Now on the other hand, Tituba doesn’t share this same closeness with their niece, Abigail.  Instead of being as open and trusting as her cousin and Aunt, she has a much more domineering attitude, only trusting what Tituba actually can provide evidence for.  This sharp shift in personalities between Parris’ family distinctly stood out amidst the duration of my reading, because Conde used it augment, not detract from Tituba’s hardships (such as with witchcraft) and sense of sexual desire.  I am sure that these interactions will prove to be even more beneficial during the remaining course of the novel.

After reading the first few chapters of I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem, it is quite apparent that this fictionalized portrayal, descriptively polarizes itself from that of Mary Prince’s narrative.  I mention this not to draw some sort of competition between the two, but to point out my pique in interest of how each author makes similar events, also distinct.   Just from reading the first few pages of this novel, it is clear that Conde’s use of historical records is much more indulged and explicit in that of racism and sexism.  The more unequivocal and blatant denotations of rape, definitely augmented this view of violence and oppression of women by men.  When she simply states “Abena, my mother was raped by an English sailor on the deck of Christ the King..” it is like Conde is setting us up for much more malicious events to soon transpire.  Focusing the beginning of the novel on Tituba’s mother enslavement grabbed my attention a lot more than I presumed it would.  When Conde begins to describe Abena and Yao’s (who is also a fellow slave) relationship, after Abena’s owner gives her away, it is actually very assuring.  This love and bond that they feel at the moment seems to put the harrowing events that are transpiring in the background, if even just for a split moment.  And this is quickly made apparent, when Abena’s owner attempts to rape her afterwards, and her execution because of her defense.

I also found the introduction of John Indian and his ideologies towards slaves to be very vital in this novel’s overall theme.  When he repetitively mentions to Tituba, that a slave’s first duty is to survive, I began to sense a form of paradoxical complex.  This complex is perhaps what led to Tituba’s and his sexual relationship, and her lust for it thereafter.

In the latter part of this book after Mary Prince’s narrative was completed, the author shared and went into a comprehensive analysis about a letter written by John A. Wood; who was the former owner of Mary Prince during her time in slavery. Throughout the letter Mr. Wood put forth numerous contentions towards Prince during the span of her stay on his property. In one instance, he inculpated her for being unfaithful to her husband and often being caught sneaking out past her given curfew. Woods divulged that “…and prohibiting her going out after 10 to 12 o’clock (our bed-time) without special leave. This she considered the greatest, and indeed the only, grievance she ever complained of, and all my efforts could not prevent it. In hopes of inducing her to be steady to her husband…”  It is quite lucid the extent Woods went to intently convey malice and contempt.  It would easily be assumed that this was mainly due to Mary wanting freedom, but it is quite daunting to realzie how far a human being can go to prevent someone’s entitlement.

Woods constant denying of any wrongdoing or falsifying of Mary towards the ending of the narrative, indubitably exhibits his character, but also reveals how the truth always seems to emerge.  It was satisfying to read that Mr. Phillips actually wrote beneficial things that portrayed Mary in a positive light, heavily limiting the veracity of Woods remarks.  This in itself is essential to not only Mary’s story, but the story of all slaves and those who have ever been enslaved in general.  It is absolutely astonishing to sit back and think of how cruel the human race can actually be.  Although it is painless to think, read, or hear about reprehensible acts, such as slavery, to actually experience such inhumane acts in one form or another is a completely different story.

I applaud Mary Prince for taking the step towards leaving her enslaved life even after she knew she had nowhere else to go.  Like most humans, being ill-treated is not something often handled well and she put up with being mistreated way too long. As a individual who had the option to get out of the environment that she was in, this is something that most slaves could only imagine being placed into. I understand why she stayed, however, because it is only human nature to stick to what we are used to. Being able to read this from the point of view of someone who had to endure such deplorable and abhorrent things throughout their life, is very eye-opening to the fact that most things today are taken for granted. I express a great veneration for Mary Prince because she had intrepidity and resilience and used that to her advantage.

Adding on to this, I would like to discuss a key quote that was pertinent to this use of fortitude exhibited by Mary Prince.  This is found on page 23 when she mentions, “I still live in the hope that God will find a way to give me my liberty, and give me back my husband…to keep down her fretting, and to leave all to Him.”  This quote genuinely spoke to me because you could not only read and hear Mary’s words, but acutely feel her desolation and hope for amelioration.  It also brought up Mary’s strong belief in religion as her use of sustenance through such afflicting times.  She resorts to church as means to the spiritual energy needed to persevere, and this proves to be effective when she falls ill again with rheumatism and the church takes care of her.  She gained a sense of benefit when she was able to attend church, and this most certainly proved to be an inflection point as it gave her mettle.  Ultimately, she was able to meet and receive kindheartedness from individuals that would lead to her development of self and resolve.