Rachel's Blue. Zakes Mda

When she discovered Blue she debated with herself as to whether she should give the doll back to Rachel or keep it hidden forever or even get rid of it. What if she became fixated again on the darn thing? She decided to take the risk since Rachel is now a woman of twenty-three who has developed other interests. Thankfully, Rachel is confirming that her decision was the right one.

      Some of those “other interests” that she has developed over the years, however, worry Nana Moira. She had hoped that Rachel would go further with her learning after completing high school at eighteen with mostly As and one or two Bs. She would have been the first in the family to go to college. But Rachel was taken up by music; something that runs in the family but that Nana Moira had hoped would by-pass Rachel.

      “This singing thing ain’t working out; you been doing it for five years and it ain’t taking you nowhere,” she nagged Rachel.

      But Rachel had a highly romanticised notion of her father singing and telling tall tales at county fairs. She wanted to be like him or, better still, be a recording star.

      She had an even more romanticised view of her grandpa, Nana Moira’s husband, who people still talk about with nostalgia to this day, more than a decade since he passed on. Nana Moira has inadvertently reinforced that view by narrating with great relish at the slightest provocation the good old days when Robbie was a country and western singer who played a guitar in his own group known as the Jensen Band. He played in dance halls and on social occasions, and Nana Moira and the other young ladies of the township went square-dancing every weekend in their colourful gingham square-dance dresses and circle skirts. The fifties were crazy years for Moira and Robbie Boucher and for every young couple in Jensen Township. It didn’t matter if it snowed or not, the Jensen Band travelled to dance halls all over the county and even as far as Meigs and Washington counties. On occasion they would stop in the middle of the road and square-dance in the snow.

      But Robbie also played his guitar – sometimes the mandolin or the fiddle – at home for Nana Moira and the kids. It didn’t matter whether there was an audience or not, he sat on the porch and played and hummed and sang and yodelled and field-hollered. Neighbourhood kids often came and joined in sing-alongs until their moms yelled for them because it was already dark and the stars were shining in the sky.

      “Anyone playing or just loving music was right up his alley,” Nana Moira said. “He took after his mom and pops because they played music too. For generations and generations the Bouchers was always music people.”

      At this, Nana Moira got misty-eyed, and then she broke out laughing.

      “We all loved Robbie’s music; it is one thing I miss about him. One of my favourite songs that he played was Burn Down the Barn and Boil the Cabbage. It was a very romantic song.”

      This brought derisive laughter from Rachel.

      “Yecchy! Boil the cabbage!” she screeched. “How did it go?”

      “It didn’t have no words. Just guitar. But, sweet Jesus, it was a mighty pretty tune.”

      The boys of the band often came to the house to play with him. Nana Moira loved to entertain and there would be lots of eating and singing and dancing. If it was too hot or too cold the festivities would be in the barn. Maybe that’s where she got the bug to entertain senior citizens and all the other folks of Jensen Township at the Centre with dinners and lunches on special occasions such as Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving and Fourth of July.

      “No wonder I like music so much, I lived around it for years,” said Nana Moira. “That’s how your pops got infected with the music bug.”

      “That’s how I got infected too,” said Rachel.

      “Sweet grief, child, you was not there in them ol’ days.”

      “Pops got infected from good ol’ Robbie and I got infected from Pops. That’s how it goes, Nana Moira.”

      Rachel grew up with these stories and she loved them. They confirmed to her that she was born to follow the family tradition. No one had the heart to tell her that her voice was not nearly as easy on the ear as her dad’s and grandpa’s. It didn’t matter as long as she played the guitar and sang for the joy of it. But when she spoke of making music her life Nana Moira began to be concerned. The girl had so much potential to bring glory to the family in other ways, and she nagged her about going to college.

      But Rachel had a dream and was going to pursue it, no matter what.

      There was a time when Nana Moira thought she had finally prevailed on her, and she agreed to consider going to college. Nana Moira hoped that perhaps after years of struggling as a wannabe music star she had come to realise that the dream was not materialising. She brought brochures from Hocking College and they pored over them together until Rachel decided on a two-year associate degree in addiction counselling, because her mom was destroyed by meth.

      “Not that I’m giving up on my music altogether,” she told her grandma. “Otherwise I would be giving up on my heritage. I would be betraying my genes.”

      She was planning to be a singing counsellor, using her guitar as therapy to bring the meth-heads, pot-heads and crack-heads of southeast Ohio back to the road of clear-headedness and healing. She did not know if this was possible or even acceptable in that profession, but it was the only way to harness her heritage to this new cause.

      “Whatever,” said Nana Moira.

      As long as the girl went to school that was all that mattered to her. When she got to Hocking College and came face to face with the real world she would give up all the singing-counsellor silliness.

      Nana Moira got worried when weeks went by and Rachel was not completing the forms and submitting the application. She kept on finding this and that excuse. Until finally she confessed that her heart was not on college – not at that moment. Perhaps some time in the future she would consider it. Nana Moira knew that there would be no time in the future. She might as well give up on any notion of having the first college graduate in the Boucher family, and be stuck with another itinerant musician – albeit a very bad one this time.

      “Don’t be so sad about it, Nana Moira,” said Rachel. “Hocking College can do without my money. I’d rather use it to take care of you.”

      Rachel is the only one who brings some reasonable livelihood home, thanks to her busking. Everyone at the Jensen Community Centre is a volunteer, including Nana Moira. The only reward for her selfless work is the free food that she gets from the Food Pantry and a small stipend that is far below minimum wage.

      “Sweet grief, child, I don’t need nobody to look after me,” said Nana Moira adamantly. “I managed all right from the time you was little without your help.”

      It is not just Rachel’s music that Nana Moira worries about. After all, she is taking after the rest of the Bouchers before her and there is nothing anyone can do about that. Perhaps she should just accept it. But now Rachel – and Nana Moira blames Schuyler’s bad influence for this – has taken to running around all over the county at her own expense, attending meetings and yelling slogans against the government, which is none of her business. She has joined Appalachia Active, a group of concerned citizens of southeast Ohio who protest against fracking.

      Nana Moira complains that Rachel spends too much time attending anti-fracking demonstrations instead of focusing on the more important things in her life. She is afraid that one day the law will come knocking at the door to tell her that her granddaughter is in jail for chaining herself to fracking equipment. That’s the sort of thing these crazy people do; you read such stories in the Athens News all the time. Or worse still, she may end up like Schuyler.

      Although Rachel refuses to discuss Schuyler, Nana Moira has heard the gossip that she is either doing time or has done time for some crime and is now crippled for life because of her wayward behaviour with men. Not that Rachel is one of those man-crazy girls you see running around with other people’s husbands. No, not her Rachel. She is raised too well for that. But with a friend like Schuyler, who knows what bad influence she may exert on her?

      Rachel