The Dirt Eaters Read online



  The Dirt Eaters

  by

  H.D. Timmons

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  Published By:

  The Dirt Eaters

  Copyright © 2011 by H.D. Timmons

  Cover Art by H.D. Timmons

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook.

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  The Dirt Eaters

  Rosalyn Gentry’s mother had sent her on an errand with familiar instructions. “Take this fifteen cents. Go up to Mrs. Johnson’s an’ fetch me some chalk, child.”

  On her way back home Rosalyn took the opportunity to break off a tiny piece of the chalk she’d fetched for her mother and popped it into her mouth. She’d sampled it before and even though it tasted like plain old dirt to her, she felt compelled to continue trying to understand her mother’s desire to eat it.

  On warm evenings the neighborhood women gathered on one porch or another to talk about the goings on of the day. As the gossip lingered the ladies would pass a plate, pinching up small portions of chalky clay to snack on as though it was the finest of delicacies. Some served their chalk seasoned with vinegar and salt. Others dried or baked their personal supply during the day so it would last longer when rolled over their tongues like so much hard candy.

  It was kaolin clay and eating this dirt was as much a part of life for women in rural Georgia as drinking tea was in England. It was a fact that generations of women in the rural south innately craved, as their venerable mothers had, whatever presumed mystical sustenance the kaolin offered. They did not realize that this was a centuries old human eating disorder at work, from which people desire eating non-food items such as burnt matches, paper and even dirt — a disorder called pica. Kaolin eating was simply a culture-bound syndrome, a specific form of pica known as geophagia. No one questioned it, but just accepted that eating dirt was part of the natural way of things.

  Rosalyn had watched her mother, Betty eat dirt for as long as she could remember, especially when her mother was pregnant. It was the only serious craving Betty had while pregnant. She claimed that it helped settle her stomach and she felt that her babies needed it.

  “The Lawd sho ‘nuff do provide in many ways. Animals eat grass, an’ dirt too, so all God’s creatures just do what come natural,” Betty would say.

  Doing chores with her mother, helping raise her brothers and sister and going to school consumed Rosalyn’s youth. Even though the newspapers were ripe with news of the war in Vietnam and persistent racism against people whose skin was as dark as hers, she had little time to consider the great big world even if she had a mind to. And had Earl Thomas never answered a classified ad that promised work in the kaolin mine, eighteen year old Rosalyn might not have made time to even notice that she had become a woman.

  Most of the able bodied young men in town were called to service in Vietnam. Earl was born and raised in Detroit, and at twenty-two he had already served his time in Vietnam as part of the 1st Cavalry Division. He was shipped home after an explosion during the fierce battle of Ia Drang Valley left him wounded and deaf in one ear. He had hoped to return to his former job on the automobile assembly line but found that, thanks to the Immigration Act of 1965, large numbers of Arabs had filled the positions left by serving G.I.s.

  Earl’s search for work took him south where the kaolin mines offered better wages than the available jobs left in Detroit. The last time he was in Georgia he’d been in basic training and couldn’t imagine back then what would ever make him return.

  The kaolin was mined for use in the making of everything from paint, ceramics and paper to stomach soothing medicine. Most women knew someone who worked in the mine — a father, husband, son, brother, cousin, or neighbor — who would routinely smuggle home small bits of the chalk for them in their pockets or handkerchiefs. Before his death, Betty Gentry’s husband would always make sure she had a steady supply of chalk, as they called it.

  Betty knew that a single young man working in the mine was a good catch and encouraged her daughter to get to know the newcomer better before someone else snatched him up.

  Rosalyn did actually like Earl and observed that he was a good and decent man. She was fascinated by both Earl’s stories of growing up in the big city and his adventures of the first major battle between U.S. forces and the North Vietnamese Army. One world filled with warm childhood memories, the other replete with jungle landscapes and unimaginable horror. Both were worlds she knew existed but hadn’t ever really had time to acknowledge. It didn’t take long before Rosalyn became part of Earl’s world where loving became as easy as drawing breath.

  They soon married and lived with the rest of the Gentry family. Rosalyn’s younger sister regarded Earl as an older brother while her two baby brothers looked to Earl as a surrogate father. Betty Gentry was glad to have a man in the house, even though his presence reminded her of how much she missed her own husband. Betty was also grateful that Earl’s work in the kaolin mine provided her a steady supply of chalk.

  One evening, as Earl came home from work, Rosalyn noticed him pause and glance disapprovingly at the plate of the all too familiar looking chalk being passed amongst Betty and the gossiping neighbor women.

  “Rosalyn, I’ve seen some things in my day, but eatin’ dirt just ain’t natural,” Earl said as he and Rosalyn prepared for bed. “I know she’s your momma and all, but I had no idea…”

  “Now, baby, what do you think she been askin’ you to carry home all that chalk fo?” Rosalyn asked with a knowing grin.

  “For the garden I thought. Hell, with my bad ear I never know for sure what she says half the time anyway.”

  Rosalyn assured Earl that her mother and the neighbor women had not lost their minds, and that it was perfectly natural. “God’s creatures eat grass an’ dirt, too,” she stated before confessing that she also had taken a taste from time to time. Rosalyn felt her husband’s disapproval shift to her, and Earl lay down for the night without another word.

  Rosalyn lay beside her husband, but in the back of her mind there was worry over Earl’s disapproval. As sleep took hold of her, dreams began to form. It was as if Earl’s descriptive recollections of his own frequent nightmares had been left for Rosalyn to conjure up. She dreamt that she was in the jungle; phantom rifle fire coming from no specific place. Rosalyn saw soldiers falling dead into the underbrush. Then, there were visions of remote Vietnamese villages where children sat outside of huts eating fistfuls of dirt. Rosalyn didn’t quite know what to make of the troubling images, but after several more nights of restless dreams, soon followed by morning queasiness, it became clear. Rosalyn was with child.

  Earl and Rosalyn were happy to be starting a family of their own, although no one was more pleased about the imminent birth than Betty, who had been looking forward to her first grandchild.

  Rosalyn knew that her mother would also relish helping her through the pregnancy, but along with morning sickness, came something else. A craving. Rosalyn wanted kaolin, the clay, the chalk. She wanted more than merely a taste. Now she finally experienced the innate sense that her baby needed it, but she dare not let on to Earl and did all she could to resist the craving.

  As the months passed, Rosalyn’s resolve wore thin. The desire for kaolin became so overpowering that she began looting her mother’s supply. Sometimes she went down the road to buy it from Mrs. Johnson under the false impression that she was buying it for her mother. In her bones she knew she needed it just as she knew she must never tell Earl. She assured herself that after the baby came the desire wouldn’t be as strong.

  With a baby on the way it was obvious that Earl’s income was barely enough for the current household of seven.

  “I found a job that would pay what we need,” Earl told Rosalyn. “It’s back
in Detroit. My ol’ supervisor is lookin’ to fill a spot at the auto plant.”

  “But, how’m I gonna leave my momma? What she goin’ to do without me?” Rosalyn asked, her eyes almost crying.

  “Now, baby, this is about what’s best for us and our child. Your brothers and sisters, they ain’t babies no more. They can look after themselves and your momma. And money… well, we can send money once a month,” Earl explained. “I’ll be gettin’ back to what I know. It’ll be for the best, you’ll see.”

  In all her life Rosalyn never imagined saying goodbye to her childhood home and family. Most folks she knew would live and die not more than twenty miles from where they were born. She had presumed her life would be no different. Rosalyn’s feelings were mixed. Sad to be leaving, but beginning to be excited