“You’ll have to wait a minute ma’am.  Dis cornbread can’t go down too fas’.  Yes ma’am, I likes cornbread.  I eats it every meal.  I wouldn’t trade just a little cornbread for all de flour dat is.

Where-bouts was I born?  I was born right here in Arkansas.  Dat is it was between an on de borders of it an dat state to de south—­yes ma’am, dat’s right, Louisiana.  My mother was a slave before me.  She come over from de old country, she was a-runnin’ along one day front of a—­a—­dat stripedy animal—­a tiger? an’ a man come along on an elephant and scoop her up an’ put her on a ship.

Yes ma’am.  My name’s Clara Walker.  I was born Clara Jones, cause my pappy’s name was Jones.  But lots of folks called me Clara Cornelius, cause Mr. Cornelius was de man what owned me.  Did you ever hear of a child born wid a veil over its face?  Well I was one of dem!  What it mean?  Why it means dat you can see spirits an’ ha’nts, an all de other creatures nobody else can see.

Yes ma’am, some children is born dat way.  You see dat great grandchild of mine lyin’ on de floor?  He’s dat way.  He kin see ’em too.  Is many of ’em around here?  Lawsey dey’s as thick as piss-ants.  What does dey look like?  Some of ’em looks like folks; an’ some of ’em looks like hounds.  When dey sees you, dey says “Howdy!” an’ if you don’t speak to ’em dey takes you by your shoulders an dey shakes you.  Maybe dey hits you on de back.  An’ if you go over to de bed an lies in de bed an’ goes to sleep, dey pulls de cover off you.  You got to be polite to ’em.  What makes ’em walk around?  Well, I got it figgured out dis way.  Dey’s dissatisfied.  Dey didn’t have time to git dey work done while dey was alive.

Dat greatgrandchild of mine, he kin see ’em too.  Now my eight grandchildren an’ my three children what’s alivin’ none of ’em can see de spirits.  Guess dat greatgrandchild struck way back.  I goes way back.  My ol’ master what had to go to de war, little ’fore it was over told me when he left dat I was 39 years old.  Somebody figgured it out for me dat I’s 111 now.  Dat makes me pretty old, don’t it?

There was another fellow on a joinin’ plantation.  He was a witch doctor.  Brought him over from Africa.  He didn’t like his master, ’cause he was mean.  So he make a little man out of mud.  An’ he stick thorns in its back.  Sure ‘nuff, his master got down with a misery in his back.  An’ de witch doctor let de thorn stay in de mud-man until he thought his master had got ’nuff punishment.  When he tuck it out, his master got better.

Did I got to school.  No ma’am.  Not to book school.  Dey wouldn’t let culled folks git no learnin’.  When I was a little girl we skip rope an’ play high-spy (I Spy).  All we had to do was to sweep de yard an go after de cows an’ de pigs an de sheep.  An’ dat was fun, cause dey was lots of us children an we all did it together.

When I was 13 years old my ol’ mistress put me wid a doctor who learned me how to be a midwife.  Dat was cause so many women on de plantation was catchin’ babies.  I stayed wid dat doctor, Dr. McGill his name was, for 5 years.  I got to be good.  Got so he’d sit down an’ I’d do all de work.