The Storyteller of Casablanca (53)
‘How did they work then?’ I ask.
‘Each plantation would have had a seamstress or two who worked for the owners. First of all, a sampler quilt would be sewn as a way of learning the patterns. This would be used to show the other slaves on the plantation how to recognise the different kinds of blocks. Then the seamstress would sew a couple more quilts. First, using this Bear Paw pattern, she would create a sort of map, showing a coded version of the route that the runaways should follow. It’s easier to memorise a map by visualising it than it is to try to remember a series of written or spoken directions. And the African tradition has always relied on signs and patterns to communicate.’
I nod. ‘Like the designs woven into Berber rugs?’
‘Exactly. Whole cultures can be recorded through methods of traditional weaving and painting. In North Africa this could range from the tattoos on women’s faces to the embroidered crewel work on their shawls. In other countries, tribes use beadwork or printed fabrics or even designs painted on to their bodies to tell the stories of who they are and where they belong. So you can see that it’s possible they extrapolated this to use quilting when scraps of fabric might have been all that were available to them in their captivity.’
I always like spending time with Kate. I’m not surprised Tom so enjoyed her company at Claudine’s dinner party the other evening. He’s mentioned her name once or twice since. And if that makes me feel a little uneasy, I tell myself again firmly not to be paranoid: she’s my friend, first and foremost, not the sort of woman who would betray my trust with a flirtation with my husband, let alone an affair. This is the first time I’ve been in her house and I’ll admit I was just a tiny bit curious to see whether she might show any reluctance at inviting me over or any sign of feeling uneasy in my company since that night, but she seems relaxed, her smile as open and warm as ever. She’s a natural teacher and I could listen to her all day as she shares her knowledge of crafting techniques from different cultures around the world. It’s more than just a hobby for her – it’s a passion.
She pulls a book from one of the shelves that line the other walls of the room, which hold bolts of material and baskets of binding tape and sewing thread as well as a small reference library. ‘The quilt with the route map could be hung out of a window for a few days, as if to air, so that those who were going to attempt to escape had time to memorise the information on it. You could give directions, pointing north, south, east or west, for example, and show where there were rivers and where there might be sources of food. You could also show with the setting stones where there might be safe places to stay or where a guide would meet you to show you the next section of the route. And then, when it was time to go, a different quilt would be hung from the window. It’s said that they used this one’ – she turns to a bookmarked page – ‘called Wagon Wheel, or perhaps this one called Tumbling Blocks. That would be the sign that they should leave once darkness fell, that the next delivery along the railroad was expected. I guess in some cases,’ she continues, ‘a traveller might even have carried a rolled-up quilt on their journey. It would serve a dual purpose, as a map and as something to keep you warm if you were sleeping rough or bedding down on the floor of someone’s shack.’
‘What a wonderful idea. And they were also carrying something of their culture with them – a visual representation that held in it something of the family they’d left behind, perhaps?’
Kate nods. ‘It’s also said that sometimes a quilt would be hung out of a window to air at the safe houses along the route, to indicate that travellers on the Railroad would receive a warm welcome there. So there was a whole conversation being conducted in a secret language. Every quilt tells a story, as we know. Now then, how are you getting on with yours?’
I show her the blocks I’ve finished so far. I know they aren’t perfect, and in many places I’ve had to unpick my stitches and redo them (although I’m pleased to say that’s happening less and less often nowadays as I’ve become more practised).
She turns the squares over and examines the backs. ‘You can always tell how careful someone’s been by looking at the parts that will be hidden.’ She smiles. ‘You’ve done well, Zoe. This is neat work.’
I breathe a big sigh of relief that my sewing’s passed the test, and show her my ideas for setting the blocks.
‘That’ll work well, I think. Just plan the order carefully when you’ve finished the last three blocks. Then you’ll need enough fabric for sashing strips to go between the thirteen of them and you might want to think whether you wish to use a contrasting material for your setting stones and your corner stones. Your border could be made with some more of the sashing fabric if you like, which will give a sense of cohesion to the whole design.’ She shows me some examples in the book, and another piece of her own work too, and we discuss blocking, backing, batting and binding.
My head is spinning by the time we’re done. I thought once I’d finished sewing my blocks there wouldn’t be much more to do, but I was wrong. At least for some of the next steps I’ll be borrowing an old sewing machine of Kate’s, though, so it will be faster than painstakingly sewing everything together by hand. ‘Keep it as long as you like,’ she says, once she’s given me a tutorial on how the machine works. ‘I never use it these days. I’ve only been hanging on to it as a backup.’