Medicine Woman

Grandmom's embrocations tasted kind of strange, and sometimes hard to get beyond the nose. But, we found out the hard way, the one who most complained often had to take a second dose.

If we caught her squeezin' lemons wit' the flaxseed tin nearby, someone was due for slimy flaxseed tea. We made faces to each other, behind her back, of course. I tried to hide and hoped it wasn't me.

That can of melted goosegrease on the cookstove at the back - 'til we had goose again - got strong and old. Smeared on our chest with vigor at the first sign of a sneeze, we told ourselves we'd rather catch a cold.

We'd walk around with sore throats if Grandmom was around, and swallow secretly so we didn't show it. If she found out we'd get a stocking tied around our necks and a scolding 'cause we hadn't let her now it.

Then, with a chicken feather that she'd dipped in kerosene, she'd paint our throats and oh, how we would gag. Then, tied around our ankles to bring our fevers down, strong onion poultice tied up in a rag.

We never knew the roots and herbs that filled the room with steam - we just knew we breathed better by its vapor. If one of us got earache, the simple treatment was the residue, or ash, from burned brown paper.

Cut fingers she would bandage with her sticky homemade salve. Then we'd be sporting Grandmom's finger stall. She treated burns with aloes; she extolled their healing power - tho' crushed plaintain from her yard was her "cure all."

She'd rub some soothing spirits on our teething babies' gums, so all of us would get a little rest; and hang a string of Job's tears around their little necks to help them cut their teeth, as she felt best.

Even chickens got a treatment if she heard of gapes in town. I've helped her part their little beaks so wide so she could force a piece of camphor down their tiny throats. (I'm sure they never got a moth inside.)

Yes, Grandmom always had a way to doctor everyone; if we could get the strength we ran and hid. But this I know - she always cared and did the best she knew. I guess I was a very lucky kid.

-Lillian Arnold Lopez "Pineylore"

HOME