reading. Let’s see…Mama was born in 1866, after my grandfather came home from the war. My grandparents were married in 1860, and my grannie was born in 1842. That must have been when my great-grandmother got this Bible, when her first child was born.
CJM : Your grandmother was born in 1842—that was a very long time ago. Do you remember her?
Dovey Murdock : Lord, yes. She sewed my wedding dress. You’re asking me the wrong question. You should ask me if I remember my great -grandmother. I don’t know exactly when Mamaw was born, but Grannie wasn’t her first baby. I reckon she was born sometime before 1820. (Interviewer’s note: Must remember to ask Brent Harbison if he has accurate longevity data on these people. Hell. Must remember to find a hydrogeologist to search this valley for the goddamn Fountain of Youth.)
CJM : So she was in her nineties when you remember her. Did she ever tell you any stories about where the Sujosa came from? Do you remember any songs she used to sing?
Dovey Murdock : The old folks all used to say that God made us and put us right here in this valley. The Garden of Eden was no place for us—who’d want to live naked among the wild beasts with nothing to do all day? No, God molded us right here out of Alabama clay. He made us the same color as the dirt, so that when we died we could go right back where we came from, just as quickly as possible. And He gave us the dirt to make our living. ’Twould have been easier if He’d given us tractors right from the start, but I guess everybody has to earn their own way in this world.
CJM : So your great-grandmother—your Mamaw—didn’t tell you any stories or sing any old songs that might have originated somewhere else? As far as she was concerned, the Sujosa never lived anywhere but here?
Dovey Murdock : Sometimes she used to talk about the sea, though I know full well she never saw any water bigger than the Broad River. Nor have I. But when Mamaw talked, you could see the mast of a great ship high above you, brushing the sky. You could hear the ropes creak when the sailors tugged at the sails until they rose up and blotted out the sun. Even now, I believe I feel the floor rolling beneath us when I think about Mamaw and her old stories.
CJM : Did she tell you where the ship sailed from, or where it was going?
Dovey Murdock : I don’t know the answer, but Mamaw said the sailors had hair as gold as the sunshine and eyes as blue as the deepest sea.
CJM : But she never saw the sea.
Dovey Murdock : Nope. But once, long ago, some Sujosa must have seen it, or we wouldn’t be here. We don’t exactly look like the folks that were here before Columbus came. And we don’t have golden hair, either. Mamaw said that we weren’t sailors on that ship, nor passengers, either. We were cargo.
CJM : Slaves.
Dovey Murdock : Not the kind you’re thinking about. Not the kind people bought and sold. Mamaw said that we came from a group of women who had left home to walk to the nearest marketplace, carrying their water jars. The sailors were…lonely…so they kidnapped the women and hauled them away. They never saw their home again. I see the question on your face, dear. I wish I could tell you something about that home, but I can’t. Probably someplace where nobody has blonde hair and blue eyes, I’d guess, or the women wouldn’t have mentioned their looks when they passed the story down.
CJM : Yet they survived, and their story with them. I wonder how they did it.
Dovey Murdock : Mamaw said that one of the women was bigger than the others and bolder. After the sailors herded them all into the hold, she told the others to hang back and let her handle things. She waited at the foot of the ladder and when the ship’s captain stuck his head through the hatch—he would have gotten the first turn with the women, you know—she busted her water jar over his head. Knocked him right out. Then she took the sharp pieces of it and passed them out among
CJM : Your grandmother was born in 1842—that was a very long time ago. Do you remember her?
Dovey Murdock : Lord, yes. She sewed my wedding dress. You’re asking me the wrong question. You should ask me if I remember my great -grandmother. I don’t know exactly when Mamaw was born, but Grannie wasn’t her first baby. I reckon she was born sometime before 1820. (Interviewer’s note: Must remember to ask Brent Harbison if he has accurate longevity data on these people. Hell. Must remember to find a hydrogeologist to search this valley for the goddamn Fountain of Youth.)
CJM : So she was in her nineties when you remember her. Did she ever tell you any stories about where the Sujosa came from? Do you remember any songs she used to sing?
Dovey Murdock : The old folks all used to say that God made us and put us right here in this valley. The Garden of Eden was no place for us—who’d want to live naked among the wild beasts with nothing to do all day? No, God molded us right here out of Alabama clay. He made us the same color as the dirt, so that when we died we could go right back where we came from, just as quickly as possible. And He gave us the dirt to make our living. ’Twould have been easier if He’d given us tractors right from the start, but I guess everybody has to earn their own way in this world.
CJM : So your great-grandmother—your Mamaw—didn’t tell you any stories or sing any old songs that might have originated somewhere else? As far as she was concerned, the Sujosa never lived anywhere but here?
Dovey Murdock : Sometimes she used to talk about the sea, though I know full well she never saw any water bigger than the Broad River. Nor have I. But when Mamaw talked, you could see the mast of a great ship high above you, brushing the sky. You could hear the ropes creak when the sailors tugged at the sails until they rose up and blotted out the sun. Even now, I believe I feel the floor rolling beneath us when I think about Mamaw and her old stories.
CJM : Did she tell you where the ship sailed from, or where it was going?
Dovey Murdock : I don’t know the answer, but Mamaw said the sailors had hair as gold as the sunshine and eyes as blue as the deepest sea.
CJM : But she never saw the sea.
Dovey Murdock : Nope. But once, long ago, some Sujosa must have seen it, or we wouldn’t be here. We don’t exactly look like the folks that were here before Columbus came. And we don’t have golden hair, either. Mamaw said that we weren’t sailors on that ship, nor passengers, either. We were cargo.
CJM : Slaves.
Dovey Murdock : Not the kind you’re thinking about. Not the kind people bought and sold. Mamaw said that we came from a group of women who had left home to walk to the nearest marketplace, carrying their water jars. The sailors were…lonely…so they kidnapped the women and hauled them away. They never saw their home again. I see the question on your face, dear. I wish I could tell you something about that home, but I can’t. Probably someplace where nobody has blonde hair and blue eyes, I’d guess, or the women wouldn’t have mentioned their looks when they passed the story down.
CJM : Yet they survived, and their story with them. I wonder how they did it.
Dovey Murdock : Mamaw said that one of the women was bigger than the others and bolder. After the sailors herded them all into the hold, she told the others to hang back and let her handle things. She waited at the foot of the ladder and when the ship’s captain stuck his head through the hatch—he would have gotten the first turn with the women, you know—she busted her water jar over his head. Knocked him right out. Then she took the sharp pieces of it and passed them out among
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