by Yamaya Cruz
“The slaves went back to work, enduring long days of backbreaking labor, working in coal mines, probing for gold, and cutting long sticks of sugarcane. They worked for endless hours, under a burning sun. Until one night they heard the sound of a drum beating in the distance. It was midnight, and slaves from every plantation on the island were drawn to it.
“It was a sight indeed. All the Orishas, including Orúnmila were gathered around a campsite.
“’We are the Seven African Powers,’ Orúnmila said. ‘Your fate has changed, but all the forces of nature are inside of you. If you master them, then you will be free.’ People looked around, aghast, not understanding what Orúnmila meant. They were slaves, how could they ever be free? Suddenly there was a huge wave of light. In one quick flash, a synchronization of religions was born. Yoruba deities were associated with Catholic saints, and African traditions were kept alive.
“Now it’s time for you to learn the secrets of our past, and the key to our survival. It’s time for everyone to look inside themselves and master the forces of the Universe.”
Her voice echoed throughout the room, and I wondered how a woman so frail could have a voice so strong. She bowed her head, and made an attempt to curtsey as she slowly exited right off the stage. The drums began to beat, and the dark skin tenor stood up and sang.
“Nelly, it’s time for you to go back,” he sang.
No. No. I don’t ever want to go back there. The elderly woman looked at me and smiled. “We’re here, we’re always going to be here,” she said.
“Nelly, wake up!” I winced as I was slapped hard across the face. I jolted up to a sitting position, like a zombie who had just been awoken from the dead. My chest heaved in and out as I looked at Ali. He was hovering over me. When he saw that I was awake, he stopped and sighed with relief.
“Shit!” It took me forever to wake your ass up,” he said.
I sat up. I was groggy and began to rub my eyes. “It was like you were in some kind of coma or some shit,” he said standing up.
“I’m okay,” I said while resting my hands on my knees. I could feel him staring at me. I avoided eye contact with him.
“I was just a little tired that’s all,” I said meekly. There was a long awkward silence. I could sense that Ali knew that there was something different about me, but he didn’t want to say anything.
“Come on, let’s go and find some food,” he said while grabbing my hand and helping me up to my feet.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Seven
Do you know what hallucinations are?” Dr. Ontarian asked. Of course I know what hallucinations are; I am fucking crazing. Remember? She read my expression and laughed gently.
“Of course you do, I mean, do you know where they come from?” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I focused on the blank computer screen on her desk. I looked down and concentrated on the keyboard. There were so many letters and numbers. Wow! I was fascinated, I worked hard to rip my eyes away and focus on Dr. Ontarian, but the computer screen kept demanding my attention. Letters of different fonts, sizes, colors began to pop up on the screen. Yes, this was a sign. I squinted and worked hard to read the letters.
“Spirits from the dead,” I mumbled with exasperation. I looked over at Dr. Ontarian to see if she understood what I said. The words made sense in my head. Did they sound right? Did I say them in the right sequence? Dr. Ontarian turned around and looked at the blank computer screen.
“Well, maybe it’s your mind’s way of trying to separate what’s real and not real. Sometimes the categories are not very distinctive and they overlap,” she said.
She was blocking the screen; I rubbernecked around her to read the letters. There was a knot in my throat; it hurt when I swallowed. I read the words out loud.
“They put thoughts into my head, evil and wicked thoughts into my head.”
Dr. Ontarian paused and adjusted her glasses before she continued.
“When people experience something that is very traumatic, their brains can’t process it well. So the brain buries much of the thoughts into the subconscious part of the mind. Unfortunately in your case, bad things happened to you at a young age, a time when your brain is just absorbing information and not really processing it.” She paused and looked at me to see if I was following her.
I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t look at her. “I am fucked up in the head,” I said, feeling hopeless.
“No, it’s nobody’s fault that you have schizophrenia, but if you put effort into a getting better, we can help you live a relatively normal life,” she said.
I didn’t answer her. Instead, I focused on the fake plant again. It was my friend, the only friend that I had aside from the elderly woman.
“She’s real, my soul remembers her,” I said. “You mean the elderly woman?” she asked.
I shook my head. “She’s here to help me heal my pain,” I said. “I can help you heal too, Nelly; why don’t you give me a try?” she asked.
I focused on the blank computer screen and held my breath. I read the lettering silently this time. I looked over at Dr. Ontarian, who was staring at me, waiting for an answer.
“They’re the shadows. The spirits of the dead,” I finally said.
We were both silent for the rest of the session.
My brother and I spent most of the day searching for loose change. We looked behind park benches, beneath ditches, and even in the neighborhood garbage bin. We worked diligently to gather rusted coins, and torn dollar bills to take down to the convenience store to buy food. Once we were there, we stuffed our carts with mini-size bags of cookies, potato chips and cheap cans of orange soda. We were five cents short, but the store clerk felt sorry for us and let us slide.
My brother and I had a great deal of idle time. We mostly spent it sleeping in alleys. It was not long before we began to miss the comforts of school. We longed for social interaction, but we wanted the food the most. Our stomachs growled from pangs of hunger, and we became reminiscent of the days when we received school lunches, for free! We craved sloppy Joes, steak fries, oven pizza and hamburgers. The images became so strong that we began seeing mirages of food everywhere. We had been out of school for a full three days and had become totally out of touch with the reality.
We did not have a radio, television or even a newspaper to keep us informed. The only thing that we had was our distorted imaginations. Our fight with sanity urged us to imagine happiness, so we pretended to gorge ourselves with food. At times we would become so high by the imaginary smell that we would trick ourselves into believing that we were full. And to think, that I used to be so boggled down with shame to present my free lunch card in the school cafeteria. I would have endured two Sudani wars and one Shiite bombing just to have one. No! I couldn’t live like this. It was just too unbearable. I was beginning to think that staying in a children’s home with a bunch of people who hated us wasn’t half as bad as being homeless and freezing our asses off in the middle of the winter.
“Don’t worry,” Ali reassured me, “we’re going to find somewhere warm.”
I puffed. I was pissed off. Not at Ali, but at the world. What the fuck that I ever do to anybody? How was it even possible for kids to suffer like this? There ought to be a law that caps the level of bullshit that one person can put up with. No one wonder my mom was crazy.
She was older and had a stocked shelf of a whole bunch of years of misery. The only way to deal with it would be to go crazy.
No wonder she drank, hit the pipe, talked to herself, and gave ten dollar blowjobs in back alleys. I missed her. I never felt so alone and unwanted before in my entire life. I would do anything to go back to our daddy’s house. I would endure all the stares and the awkward reminders that we weren’t wanted. Just so we could all be together again. There was an empty coke bottle on the sidewalk. I kicked it hard, hoping that there was a little bit of liquid inside of it. Hell! Desperate times calls for desperate measures. Ali looked at me. He could tell that I was getting a
gitated.
“Stay here,” he said before running down a street corner. I pulled the strings on my coat to tighten my hoodie, and tucked my hands deep inside my pockets. I had to go to the bathroom. How was that even possible? I hadn’t really drunk anything all day. Silently I wished that my body could change its mind and find a way to drink its own urine. That would solve both my problems. I said to myself. Hey in this weather, it could work like a nice warm cup of pee. I covered my mouth and giggled to myself.
I walked over into an alley and pulled my pants down. I was repulsed by first the smell and the gushing of blood that was coming from my vaginal area. My panties were bloodstained red. Oh My God! Disgusted, I yanked my pants off and shimmied out of my underwear. I found some newspaper that was relatively clean and I placed it between my legs. This was a fucking nightmare! I was twelve years old, naked, parentless, and bleeding from my first menstrual cycle. It was close to ten degrees outside. I jumped around, trying to put my right leg back into my pants. My ass cheeks were so numb they felt like they were freezer burned. I managed to get my pants up and around my waist when I heard Ali calling my name.
“Nelly.” I ran out to the sidewalk and saw Ali running towards me. His belly bulged like Santa and he was holding the bottom of it like he was a pregnant woman. Hurriedly, we walked into the same alleyway so Ali could download the contents that were stuffed in his coat. We sorted through all the goods like it was Halloween candy.
There were chips, crackers, cookies, two cans of root beer soda, some candy bars and a can of corned beef and sardines. I held the can in my hand.
“I like sardines,” Ali said, while shrugging his shoulders.
I looked over and saw a package of cotton panties along with boys’ underwear, and maxi pads. I couldn’t speak. Instead, I just rested my hand on the items, bowed my head down, a little embarrassed but also relieved. I had never felt so much love for my brother before.
“Hey, look what else I got,” he said. I looked up as Ali fanned dollar bills in front of his face.
“Oh my god, Ali. Where did you get that?” I said. I was hoping that he didn’t do anything stupid.
“Calm down, I got this,” he said while flipping off one and handing it to me. We gorged ourselves with food. Ali and I walked into a 24-hour fast food restaurant and washed up. The panties that Ali got for me were way too big. I had to tie them up at the sides like a Brazilian bikini. The maxi pads were super size and I felt like I had a queen size mattress between my legs, never the less, I was clean. I brushed my teeth and wondered how my mommy was doing. I knew that her high had waned off, and I could imagine her sitting in her jail cell, regretting what she had done. My mom was so fucking stupid. I spat the toothpaste out of my mouth and began to rinse. How could she risk losing everything for a man who didn’t love her? I splashed cold water on my face, ripped a paper towel off the roll and started to pat it dry.
“She did it because she was fucked up in the head.” I drew back, surprised that I had even said those words out loud. I crumbled the paper towel in my hand and threw it in the trashcan.
We were on the road again. This time, we had bags to carry, but my belly was full and I wasn’t going to complain. However, I began to worry. It was getting really dark outside and it was only a matter of time before the freaks came out. Newark was a scary place at nighttime. I was falling too far behind. I couldn’t catch up, so I lagged behind. I looked around me. Man! The houses were immaculate. They had roofs that were as high as sky scrapers, with detached, two car garages.
I looked inside one house and saw a spiral staircase along with a grand style piano sitting at the base of it. I whistled.
“Man. Ali could you imagine living in that house?” I said.
Ali looked at the house and then at me. He didn’t answer. There were sirens going off behind us. We looked back and saw a patrol car. Alarmed, Ali grabbed my hand and we hid behind a tree. There were red and white beams of light that flashed over us like a strobe light. We peered over the bushes in time to see a little old lady in a white terrycloth robe make her way to the patrol car. Then we heard the voice.
“There’s niggers’ walking around here,” she quipped. Ali and I just stared at each other, speechless.
Ok, just calm down, ma’am. We have been patrolling around this town all night and we haven’t seen any suspicious activity,” we heard the driver of the car say.
“Well, you aren’t doing a very good job. We work hard to keep this area safe and clean, and not run down and dirty like those monkeys that live on the other side of town,” she spat.
“Yes, ma’am, we understand,” the driver said “If we see anybody, we’ll be sure to take them in.”
“Take them in, and back where they come from, so we can all live in peace.” She said waving her fist in the air. The driver of the car looked very annoyed. I didn’t think that he liked being told what to do.
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver said, rolling up his window. He looked like he wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible. He turned off the strobe lights and put on his high beams and drove away. The lady just stood on the curb with her hands on her hips. She had mismatched socks, one was pulled up to her knee and the other slouched around her ankle. She mumbled to herself as she walked back to her door.
“Don’t want no nasty niggers around my house, bringing their filth and sin to my doorsteps,” she said.
We waited until she was comfortably inside, and then we took off running. We didn’t want to be anywhere near that wicked old woman, or those snobby people in that town. We ran until we got back to our part of town, where it wasn’t half as safe or nice, but where we belonged. I wanted to cry, and I couldn’t understand why I was so hurt by a woman I didn’t know, a woman who didn’t know us, but I was. Seeing the old abandoned buildings was comforting, seeing the homeless man with missing teeth and a chopped off leg was refreshing, seeing a junkie with a syringe in his hand and a band wrapped around his arm meant that I was home.
We walked until we came into an old dilapidated apartment building. It had to be almost sixteen stories high with a rustic outside staircase that was missing a bottom landing. The top windows were either boarded up or smashed in. Stubborn shards of glass lined the frames and the paint looked like it was shit stained brown. We walked closer and we could see that there was an abandoned park in the back yard with a kiddy size swing set. Crushed liquor bottles and crack vials littered the grass like confetti. A brisk wind pushed the swing seat back and forth.
There was a chain-linked fence with curly razor wire wrapped on top. It looked deadly. I wanted to throw myself right into it and scream as a thousand bolts of electricity surged through my body. Then, the old woman wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. I would just be one less nigger in the world. Ali yanked on the chain and shook the huge padlock. He raised his hand in frustration. He was a good thief, but he sucked at picking locks. He was silent for a minute and then he rushed off to the back area of the building. I followed him. I stumbled over huge dislodges of gravel. We stopped and stared at a small hole in the fence. Ali lit a match and told me to hold it. Ali started to crawl through it like a one-ounce mouse.
The flame burned my forefinger and thumb. I threw it down and sucked on my charred fingers to ease the pain. There was a thick coat of darkness. Ali lit a match, and I saw him positioned on the other side of the fence. Suddenly, there was a flash, a vision that was clear but fleeting. It was of flames, massive flames. I shook my head, and my stomach began to quell from a foul aroma that had entered the air. It was flesh, the smell of burning flesh. Then I heard the words, loud like someone was screaming them in my ear. The water. The water. The water. I shook my head vigorously, trying to get the voice out. I looked over at Ali.
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he said.
I moved in slowly, resting my cheek to the ground and sliding my body under the fence. I got up and my pants and coat were filthy. Man. It sucked being homeless. I had a newfo
und respect for bums. Now, I could understand why they smelled so bad. Like pigs, they rolled around in filth all day, and it was just too burdensome to be clean when survival was more important. I tried my best to wipe the dirt off my pants, but it was useless. I looked at the apartment complex. It appeared haunted, liked there were witches and ghosts inside of it. I shivered from fear.
The place was even creepier inside. It reeked of burnt wood from a smoldering fire. The floor was weak and unstable and we felt that at any moment, it would crumble under our feet. We were careful with our steps, fearing that the wrong one would send us plunging through the floor. I could hear Ali’s breath. It was slow and heavy. He was scared too. It was getting dim. Ali lit another match and speckles of light flickered throughout the room. We were standing in a foyer, and to our right was an empty elevator shaft. To our left was a frangible staircase made of decaying wood, lined with a banister that had missing poles. There were brittle paint chips on the floor, and termite eaten holes in the walls.
Ali grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs. We stopped at the first apartment that we saw. The door was left ajar. There was darkness again. I was silent. I couldn’t see or even hear Ali anymore. I waited patiently, telling myself to stay calm and not panic. I shifted my feet and puffed out an air of white smoke. Oh man. I hope that he didn’t leave me here by myself. Then, there was another flash of light. Ali was standing in the middle of the room with a rolled up newspaper in his hand. He stuck it into an old jar and lit it on fire.
“Okay, come closer because I don’t know how long this fire is going to last.” I got closer and held my palms out. My goodness, my body was so cold.
“Stay, here. I am going to look around,” he said, lighting another roll of newspaper on fire.
