On the blog today, we have a personal piece from author Trisha Tobias about her novel, Honeysuckle and Bone. It is a moving piece about the grief and stories she grew up with.
Honeysuckle and Bone follows the story of eighteen year old Carina who escapes her own dark past by nabbing a job in Jamaica as a nanny for a rich and powerful political family. But Carina’s troubles seem to follow her from the States to Jamaica in the form of a duppy, a ghost or spirit.
Honeysuckle and Bone was inspired by many elements: my grief after my father passed away; my identity as a Jamaican American person; even being a sulky, dramatic teenager once upon a time. But one major contributor was the collection of stories that my Jamaican mother used to tell me, all about duppies.
Growing up, my mother loved sharing her culture with me. Usually, that was in the form of the delicious food she’d cook, or recountings of how she’d annoyed her siblings. But it also meant she’d share tales that she hoped would either make me laugh or scare me for the night.
In one story, Mom told me about a neighborhood man who went to work on the same route every day, boarding the bus at the same unusual spot like clockwork.
And then he died.
And yet, my mother noticed that the bus still stopped at that strange location, opened its doors for several moments, and then closed them before leaving. Nobody appeared to be there, waiting for the bus. But it was as if the man had been standing at the stop, and the driver still sensed him. Could that have been a typical part of this bus route? Maybe. But the story became that the gentleman was keeping his schedule, going to his job by bus, making sure to catch it at the usual time so he wouldn’t be late for work.
In another account, my mom described walking home from a late-night church service. The road was nearly pitch-black. And yet, in the distance, she could see it—something like a wolf, but larger. Or perhaps it was a bear, but smaller. Whatever the creature was, Mom was certain she’d never seen anything like it before. And from a glance, she was sure it was a duppy—since they can take all kinds of forms. To shake the creature off, Mom held her breath, avoided eye contact, and prayed it would stop following her. She’s lucky it worked!
The stories ranged from heartfelt to sad to hilarious. But I didn’t take them very seriously as a child. Not until my father passed away many years later.
Suddenly, Mom’s amusing stories about spirit creatures and ghosts going to work seemed far more meaningful—and powerful. The duppy on the bus reminded me so much of my own desire to return to the way life looked before my dad died, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. The frightening supernatural wolf-beast embodied my anxiety, which skyrocketed in the midst of my mourning. These duppies from Mom’s childhood became my mirrors in adulthood.
My mother’s accounts, along with my personal experiences, made me view duppies with fresh eyes, and I saw more clearly the ways ghosts can represent resentment, sadness, guilt—but also love, forgiveness, and peace.
Honeysuckle and Bone traces Carina’s journey moving through grief and letting go of regret. But I wouldn’t have been able to do her story justice without hearing those “silly” little ghost stories all those years ago.
Views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of the Federation.
