Swamp Witches

Small towns and rivers go hand-in-hand. Memories of summer, rope swings, and swimming holes often come to mind when thinking about small towns and rivers. Sometimes the rivers are called streams or creeks, and sometimes they're called bayous, marshes, or swamps. The name depends on the geographical region of the United States you happened to be in at the time. Down south these bayous are the murky outlets of rivers or lakes, the small bodies of water that never seem to go anywhere. In the south, they are sluggish, marshy areas with 'skeeters' and other bloodsuckers, birds and fish and 'gators.' But most importantly, they are places where legends thrive in backwoods towns and parishes, villages and counties, creating an eternal sense of mystery and danger. Bayous are the habitats of splendidly horrible creatures such as Bogeys...those large, hairy mammals also known as Bigfoot. Maniacs recently escaped from state hospitals, also like to reside in bayous. But the most dangerous and elusive creatures are the swamp witches. I was eight going on nine when I first saw a swamp witch. It happened in 1956, four decades ago...although sometimes it doesn't seem so long ago to me especially on the nights when the world outside is still with nary a breeze or night bird calling. Louisiana, the heart of

The main users of the roads were the delivery trucks, the postman, and the townsfolk escaping for a weekend in the big city. In 1956, fewer than seventy-five people lived in Tarawa. In those days Tarawa wore a shroud of the past, surrounded by the remnants of white gentility, the tradition of black slavery, and the ghosts of great plantations. It appeared the ideal backwoods town, a forerunner of Mayberry in the Andy Griffith Show. Under its sleepy mantle, however, the racial tensions of the decade could be