Ignorance could only persevere for some time before it was shattered. I had to stop suddenly because I could feel something peculiar in my soul, some monster inside me had roused. For the first time I looked up from my icy stare and noticed the world around me. Histories re-invented themselves on either side, up above and even on the earth I was stood on. The creased boxes and burnt brickwork seemed to burst alive in floating globules of light and I was overcome by the stories the shadows begged to tell. Tales of passion, incest, murder and various others all came at me, putting me under intense pressure.
No longer was I alone in this dark neighbourhood. A few prostitutes were standing skimpily clad on the other side of the road. The rain ran down their smooth skin but they did not shiver or even flinch, they just stood there in silence, waiting. A blue Porsche with tinted windows slowly crawled the greasy curbs of this gigantic street before stopping at where these ladies of the night stood, the grill at the front seemed almost to mock these poor ladies as if realising it’s power. One of them, a negro, had tears rolling down her face and was trembling as she got into the car. The emotions inside me were as mixed as the colours in the belching sky; curiosity turned into sorrow before quickly turning into anger and then rage. The boiling blood inside me pulsated around every vessel and my intense objectiveness screamed out of every open pore on my skin. Centuries of oppression against the black people had led to this deprivation and neglect, even they had evacuated this area with the infestations of bulbous rats to leave a lifeless mockery of an ethnic nation.
The shadow in the house next to me was precariously inviting me in, shining out from the rest that wanted their turn. I walked through the ‘doorway’ which was nothing more than three broken beams of dark oak that swayed in the breeze. A scratched white door that smelt of urine and was splattered in graffiti such as, ‘Tariq was ‘ere 1996 forever’, stood before me with a great light and sweet humming of ‘Wade in the Water’ came from beyond. I walked towards it, my black boots nearly snapped the old floorboards that lay on the ground. The handle felt warm in my hand and was welcoming, enticing me to open the door hastily.
I found myself in a brightly decorated room which was scented with pleasant fresh cookies. An old black woman who looked strangely familiar beamed at me and put me on the window-sill to look out at the city outside. There were children skipping outside, laughing merrily in the glaring sun. A few high-rise buildings looked pretty in the far distance.The old sixties- radio by the cooker was telling us about President Kennedy’s visit to Dallas. The woman sighed and stroked my head, causing me to close my eyes to try to fully comprehend the love and intensity that radiated from her hand:
‘This town ain’t safe no more little one,
when will Kennedy free us child?
One day the blacks will be free and we will live in harmony.
One day.’
A gunshot caused me to open my eyes. I found myself sitting alone on a bright green patch of grass that seemed to be soft and dry despite the falling rain . All around was dark, silent and overpowering. I was alone again in this cruel world with it’s cruel fat-cat’s in New York and dictators of Communism. Alas Kennedy was shot when those words were spoken, and all sense of decency and freedom for the negros died with him. Old Mamma and her cookies had perished in an arson attack for her beliefs in democracy. It began the slip into the sad state of affair that the world is in today.
I sat in the refreshing rain once again and watched as a quaint feather fell onto my saturated lap. A sign that in this darkness there is always hope for the future and this is what we should cling onto until we die. Here I sit, Old Mamma’s history re-invented.
