there were more nods, Amma kept flashing Dominique looks, is she serious? are you serious? except Dominique was too preoccupied lapping up this codswallop
Amma had had enough, she alone would have to deal with this woman, seeing as everyone else’s brains had turned to mush
that’s not a problem for me, she said, because guess what, I’ve not crapped my pants since I stopped wearing nappies as a kid
there was a detectable ripple of suppressed laughter in the room, great! she was breaking Nzinga’s spell, who was livid, this is no time for cheap jokes, Amma, I think you need to listen to Bob Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’ and emancipate yourself from mental slavery
Amma considered thanking Nzinga for informing her she was mentally enslaved, and told her that African peoples were referred to as black long after the word made its appearance in the English language, so it makes no sense to retroactively impose racist connotations on to its everyday usage, and if you do, you’re going to drive yourself mad and, I’m sorry to say, everyone else with you
I’m surprised you don’t know this already
it took Nzinga under a minute to make her excuses, Dominique in tow
Amma was pleased to see the back of the awful Cindy
the old Dominique would have done the same in her position
the new Dominique had become gullible to every piece of shit the voodoo queen spouted
how on earth had this happened?
Amma hoped the Nzinga phase would end when the woman returned to America
she was returning to America, wasn’t she?
at the end of their summer of love, Dominique (cowardly) told Amma on the phone she’d been issued with an ultimatum by Nzinga, either she goes to the US with her, or we go our separate ways, I don’t do long distance, daaarlin’
Amma told her she was crazy, don’t go with that woman, Dominique, don’t go
but having found real love, Dominique followed it to America.
3
Nzinga was a teetotal, vegan, non-smoking, radical feminist separatist lesbian housebuilder, living and working on wimmin’s land all over America before moving on, a gypsy housebuilder
Dominique was a drinking, drug-dabbling, chain-smoking lesbian feminist carnivorous clubber who produced theatre by women and lived in a London flat
she soon became a teetotal, vegan, non-smoking, radical feminist lesbian housebuilder on wimmin’s land called Spirit Moon, which only allowed lesbians to reside there
other females could visit, adult males and boys over ten could not
their job was to help build affordable houses in order to tempt younger women to revitalize an ageing community
the rural setting of Spirit Moon with its endless space and vistas was invigorating to Dominique compared to the polluted air, dirty streets, frenzied atmosphere and hard-edges of London where life happened at such a fast pace she’d been swept up into its masculine (as Nzinga pointed out) metropolitan maelstrom ever since first arriving from Bristol
the two of them were allocated a log cabin at the furthest reaches of the estate, an idyllically isolated corner where they could snuggle away from the world and toast crumpets over an open hearth
in front of them were fields, behind was a beech, birch and maple forest
that first night Dominique was too excited to sleep, she went to sit on the veranda in the darkness listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the countryside
how could Amma have wanted to deny her this experience? was it jealousy, as Nzinga suspected, saying that as she’d usurped Amma as the most important person in Dominique’s life, Amma couldn’t handle it?
it was true that she and Amma had been soulmates without the sex and now Nzinga was her soulmate, a total, one-off goddess, why couldn’t Amma see that? and her rudeness at the dinner was unforgivable, how could she have twisted Nzinga’s words when she was only trying to help everyone understand how racism worked?
Nzinga was a good person with a big heart
who’d landed in Dominique’s life when she was in between lovers and ready for something different
and just as she was tiring of running a theatre company where she spent too much time on the conveyor belt of writing grant applications with a measly 10% return
Amma hadn’t really taken on board her complaints about this, had always reminded her what a great team they were, Dom, look at what we’ve achieved
yes, but deep down Dominique had wanted something new, an adventure, even though she hadn’t articulated it and didn’t know what form it would take
long summers on Lesbos where she camped on the beach with hundreds of other lesbians were no longer quite so enchanting after seven consecutive years
European city breaks were okay but hardly fulfilling, she’d been to Guyana a couple of times and knew she couldn’t really live there easily as an out lesbian, and she wasn’t interested in teaching English as a second language somewhere abroad, a popular option with other twenty-somethings
and then Planet Venus beamed Nzinga down to her at Victoria station to give her the Great Love that Changes Everything
that first week at Spirit Moon they were invited to a buffet at the house of Gaia, who owned the estate and bequeathed it to the trustees in her will, to ensure it remained wimmin’s land in perpetuity
her home was a sprawling ranch house with vaulted ceilings, patchwork throws, curvilinear sculptures of female bodies, pottery vases, bucolic paintings and tapestry wall hangings Gaia had made herself
there were no images of any men
anywhere
they poured outside to enjoy the warm night, the lawn lit by flaming torches staked into the ground
the clear soprano of Joan Baez, mournful alto of Joni Mitchell, and the richer, melodious contraltos of Joan Armatrading and Tracy Chapman emanated from the deck of the record player on the veranda
Dominique heard crickets, the distant sounds of owls, the hum of women enjoying each other’s company, she was fascinated and felt like a time-traveller who’d voyaged into a quite magical alternate society
the women’s faces were tanned, healthy, seemingly untroubled, as if they were at ease with themselves and each other
all this happy-happiness felt weird to Dominique as she moved among this group of strangers who greeted her with genuine enthusiasm
was this a cult?
she was used to cool Londoners who checked you out with a critical eye before deciding if you were worthy of their time and conversation
Gaia’s grey hair was whipped up into a bun, others wore plaits or crew cuts, a couple of the black women favoured the simplicity of cornrows
they wore jeans and slacks, tee-shirts and baggy shirts, gilets or waistcoats, jumpsuits and baggy dresses, nobody wore make-up or high heels
they brewed their own beer, had a vineyard, a few smoked cigarettes and marijuana, Dominique longed for a relaxing draw, but she’d promised Nzinga she was done with it, agreeing that a poisoned body was a sign of a poisoned mind
the women who lived in the community came from every profession, as well as former housewives, they were craftswomen, chefs, teachers, farmers, shopkeepers, musicians, many were retired
Dominique was curious to know more
Gaia told her she’d been through the wars for social and legislative acceptance in the fifties and sixties, eventually deciding to turn her back on men, she was done with the patriarchy
when she inherited her parents’ Long Island mansion, she bought this farm
did she miss men?
never, the women of Spirit Moon try to live in harmony, even when arguments break out, we have a talking circle and try to sort it out, women can also choose to live hundreds of acres apart until things cool down, a feud might take years to heal, in time there’s forgiveness, even if scars remain
occasionally a resident is forced to leave over unsanctionable behaviour such as violence or theft, if a woman goes straight and wants relationships with men, she has to leave, if she’s celibate, she can stay, once we had a woman who turned and was caught sneaking men on to the property at night