Kim
Robinson
It's a typical summer's afternoon at the Rambler's
Inn. Sunshine is easing its way into the furthest corner
of our walled garden, where birds are singing, the grass is
growing, and Ryan - our resident cocktail genius - is taking
some time out to chat with author, Kim Robinson...
If you have an alias or pen name, what is it?
Kim Robinson
Tell us about yourself?
I am a wife and mother residing in
a suburb of Dallas, I have three children, 20, 12, 11. I love to
cook, I believe that a good plate of food is the best gift you
can give someone, and that you should always cook in good
spirits. I have a sewing business, my father was a tailor and I
have been sewing for money since I was seven years old. I am an
avid reader..
Anything special the readers should know about you?
Everything I write will have a lot of my own life experiences
which are quite a few because I grew up in Compton, California
and was a madam and call girl for eleven years. I worked in Los
Angeles, Florida, New York and had my own house with twenty one
girls for four years in Oahu. I also used and sold drugs. I want
people to know that they too can change their lives with God's
help.
How long have you been writing?
I used to write poetry
when I was young. It was a way for me to Journal. I had to do
this to cope with the things that I saw, such as gang fights,
murders and ghetto life, riots.
Where do you typically find your inspiration?
All my
inspiration comes from my dreams. I wake up and write down what
I dream about, which usually with a little investigation proves
to be true history, from people from the other side who want
their story told.
The Roux in the Gumbo came about when I was
bedridden during the end of my pregnancy. My grandmother came
from California to help me. One day we were watching Oprah talk
about her life and she said "Shoot somebody needs to write
my book, I had more stuff happen to me then she did".
We
chaptered all them old stories that I had heard a hundred times
growing up. I was just going to make copies for everyone in the
family. I bought her a tape recorder so that when she went home
and thought of something. she could tape it and send it to me.
Every few months I sent her airline tickets to stay with me for
a while. I went to Louisiana to visit family and everything she
told me came to life. It seemed as if I was related to everyone
in Lafayette. Grandpa was a rolling stone. LOL. They all talked
about my great grandmother so when I got home I added their
stories. My grandmother was also with me when my daughter was
born.
In 1997 my grandmother suffered a stroke during a spinal
cancer surgery and went into a coma. I printed out what I had
and went to California, I would sit by her bed reading and the
family asked me what I was reading, when I told them they said
they wanted to read it, my mother made some copies and gave them
out. One day while I was reading to my grandmother she said my
name. Though she was still in a coma. Everyone said that I had
to finish the book. She died the next day.
When I went back home
family members called me to share their memories. They sent tape
recordings and I added it all to the book. My grandmother's
sister and I talked over the phone sharing her story. I sent her
a ticket to come visit me. but sadly she got sick and died
before she could come but I did get everything she wanted in. My
parents came and started reading and giving me their memories
and here we are.
The title signifies what my grandmother was to
me. Everyone has someone who influenced their lives just as the
Roux (Roo) base or gravy in Gumbo influences every spoonful.
What genre do you write in?
The Roux in the Gumbo is
Historical My next book Street life to housewife is mostly
autobiographical. My series G-mama is history that I saw growing
up and fiction and dreams and God ain't spelled Government is
Sci Fi. Oh, and my cookbooks are a compilation of the best of
the best of two hundred authors recipes, featuring their photo,
bio, book covers and excerpts, the are virtual right now so at
the click of your mouse you are at their website.
Do you cross over to other genres?
I guess it kind of
looks like I am all over the place doesn't it. I just write what
I dream.
Is it harder or easier to stay in one genre or to move
back and forth?
Since I wake up and write what I dream it is not
hard.
Who has influenced you in your writing?
Family, friends,
life, history and dreams
What books do you have out?
The Roux in the Gumbo
Historical,
Food for the Soul - Recipes from around the World
Sweet Satisfaction Desserts and Drinks
And do you have something new coming out?
Streetlife to
Housewife will be finished soon.
Where can they be purchased?
The ebook of The Roux is with www.WhiskeyCreekPress.com
.
The print book is with www.Nesheepublication.com
.... and soon will be in the major book
stores. Autographed copies through my site.
The cookbooks can be
purchased from Diana Hatch at Wolfdencreations, sales@wolfdencreations.com.
She maintains my website and also put the cookbooks together.
You
can see a sample on my site www.kim-robinson.com
.
Are you doing any signing or appearances soon?
I
organize multi author signings the last weekend of each month at
Nanny Grannies Antiques downtown Plano, any one who would like
to come out and sell their books or antiques just contact me kim@kim-robinson.com.
You can always find out what I am doing through my website or my agent
Belinda Williams. literarylifestyle@comcast.net
Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?
Grow a very
thick skin and join a writers group like http://groups.yahoo.com/group/kimsCrew
someplace where you can get all the help you need, we are a
multicultural marketing group and we help who ever ask, and read
one another work
Do you have a website or a blog?
www.kim-robinson.com
I
don't think I am gever going to understand how to blog
Do you prefer for your fans to mail or email you?
Email I
always answer
Other than being a writer, did you ever picture yourself
doing anything else?
It seems that the cookbook has presented me
with the opportunity to be a cooking show host. I will have
contributors for the cookbook come on and prepare their recipes
and talk about their books. Taping should begin at the first of
2007. In the contract they want me to do editions every two
years so I will be starting again with submissions next January.
Hope some of you participate
If you had time off to do whatever you like, what would
you do?
Lay on a beach with my lap top and children and hubby
and write.
Is there a favorite author you haven't met that you'd
like to?
Maya Angelou and she is going to be at the North Texas
University in a couple of months. I also like Delores Thornton,
and hope to meet her soon too, and Gregory Townes he is an
amazing new writer and I am going to meet him this weekend. .
If you have a book coming out soon or just out would you
like to give us an excerpt?
It's not edited yet but sure, hold
onto your hats!!!.
Street Life To
Housewife
Chapter one
1982
Bad Girls by Donna Summer
Finally Francois let out a
loud moan and it was over. It had taken 10 minutes of conversation
to put the trick "to sleep," this meant putting him at
ease so that he could relax enough to get off. Every black girl
had to be adept at this in order to assuage the fears that lurked
in tricks minds planted by rumors and assumptions that all black
girls wanted to rob them. Funny thing though, it didn't stop them
from taking the chance.
I don't mind the talking
part; it's when they want to touch me that I have to disassociate
myself and kind of hover around on the ceiling, that way it isn't
me that they are huffing and puffing over.
I learned a lot of tricks of
the trade listening to my Uncle's women while I was growing up. A
good working girl never got off with a trick. If you did then you
were the trick.
Having been beaten and
tortured by a few psychopaths I had nothing but disgust for men
who paid me for my time and body. Within the first months of my
career I mastered techniques that helped me avoid having sex with
them, but at the same time satisfying their needs in a way that
made them feel they had gotten their moneys worth.
With this particular client
work could not be avoided. I always felt disgusted with myself
when I had to have sex with someone. Most times I had to remember
the other advice I received. "Do what you got to do to get
paid, stay down for your crown, and don't turn down nuthin' but yo'
collar."
The $400.00 Francois paid me
for two hours of my time made it worthwhile. The first hour we
just talked about his work and problems. Reading the paper every
morning certainly paid off, I could waste a lot of time talking
about current events. This also helped me appear intelligent. If a
client just wanted to get off, he could do that on the street in
the back of his car for twenty dollars. Once a client was a
regular, like Francois they wanted socializing and company. He had
been seeing me once a month for the last year. Lately he called
the agency every two weeks and never asked for anyone but me.
"Oh baby you were
great!" He was trying to kiss me, again. I turned my head so
his tongue fell on my cheek. He looked hurt; the slight had not
gotten past him. Too damn bad, I never kissed a trick.
"Why won't you let me
kiss you?"
I ignored the question and
changed the subject. "Daddy you were good too. You need to
get out of the hills more often. It's rare that I get someone who
isn't fat or ugly, or cares about satisfying me the way you do. I
swear if it wasn't for the fact that I need to pay to go to
college, I would give you your money back."
If he believed that shit
then he was really stupid, I smiled at the short fat man.
"You are going to make
a great teacher one day. You know my offer still stands." He
pulled me down on the bed next to him. "I could pay all your
bills, put you in a nice house and you wouldn't have to do
anything but focus on your studies."
Yeah right, nothing but let
you slobber all over me day and night. The thought of waking up to
Francois everyday made me want to throw up. He was in the middle
of his fourth divorce and was looking for wife number five.
I touched him on the side of
his face, "You are so sweet, but you know I have goals that I
want to achieve before I think about getting serious with
anyone."
He really was sweet. If I
let him he would take care of me. I could live in a big house and
never worry about anything. Even after the inevitable divorce I
would get a great settlement and a big alimony check, just like
his other ex-wives. The only problem was I could never be with a
client that way.
I had spent weeks with
clients, the money was good. The thing that made it alright was
that we negotiated my time, and I new that when that time was up I
was out of there. An indefinite relationship or marriage, Hell Naw,
that would drive me nuts.
I new all about the grief he
got from all his ex-wives and kids. He spent about an hour talking
about them. I would listen, not saying anything; just like a good
psychiatrist. I was good at it, probably should have thought about
it for a profession.
Hell, I didn't blame his
wives for leaving his ass, he always fucked around on them. If I
was a square I would leave his ass too. The funny thing was all
his wives were pseudo-squares. He liked bad girls, rescuing them
made him feel like a big man.
He pulled his first wife out
of Las Vegas, she was a dancer. His second wife was her best
friend, a hotel show girl that he started messing with shortly
after his first son was born. When he was caught by wife number
one they divorced and he married her. She gave him a daughter,
then filed for divorce when she caught him with soon to be wife
number three; a bartender at the Playboy club; she gave him a son.
The current wife had been a massage therapist who made "house
calls." They had been together the longest and had two grown
daughters. All of his wives had been looking for a payday and
found it when they married Francois.
"How did you get into
this business?"
I knew it would happen one
day, because it always did with regulars. Eventually they wanted
to know all about you and started getting delusions of saving you.
It had taken Francois a year but like all the rest he wanted to
know about my life.
"Well my parents were
killed in a robbery when I was seven. I had no other family so
ended up in a series of foster homes where I wasn't treated too
nicely. I ran away from the last one when I was fifteen because
the father and teenage son were raping me almost every night. I
couldn't take it any more. The mother was beating me every time
she looked at me because she knew about it.
"She beat you because
her husband was raping you? She knew about it and didn't do
anything to stop it?"
"Oh she knew alright,
sometimes she watched."
"I don't believe that
there are people like that in the world. Why didn't you tell
someone?"
"Girls who told ended
up in worse places, no one believed them and they were labelled troublemakers."
"Someone should have
helped you."
"I helped me. I left
and lived on the street until I met some other girls who were
taking care of themselves. We got this guy to rent us an apartment
in exchange for him sleeping with us once a month. We did whatever
it took to feed ourselves. We all wanted to go back to school and
get our education. I'm proud to say that all of us are
accomplishing our goals."
I turned around, there were
tears in his eyes. Somehow I knew he was thinking about those
spoiled-ass daughters of his. He spent a fortune putting them
through college, they didn't do anything with their degrees, but
get pregnant and married bums that he was forced to hire to work
at his construction company.
"You know my daughters
are grown women and if they had to take care of themselves they
would starve to death. Here you are twenty two years old, and you
have been taking care of yourself all this time and you are trying
to further your education."
"Hey, what else do I
have to do with my life, without an education I won't ever be
anything that I can feel good about."
"You deserve a break,
and I am going to give you one. How much do you need to finish
school?"
"Well I have about
three more years to go. You know I got my G.E.D. going to night
school and community college. I just got into Fullerton State this
year, and that was with the help of a friend. I don't know, I had
to pay 6,000 for this semester alone 'cause I'm taking a lot of
classes trying to finish quick, books are expensive."
"I don't want you to
worry about any of that. Hand me my jacket."
He wrote a check for
$20,000.00 and placed it in my hand and kissed my wrist, "If
you have any problems here is my card. Maybe that will help you to
concentrate on what is important."
Hook, line and sinker, I
looked at the check and made myself start to cry. "I can't
take this," I said, knowing full well there was no way I was
going to give it back.
"Yes you can. I throw
away more than this every month on alimony. I feel good about
doing this for you."
"Thank you
Francois," I hugged him and wiped a tear from my eye. I
raised my 5' 9", 130 pound long legged frame from the bed. I
stepped into my five inch stiletto's, "I got to freshen up
and get out of here, so I can pick my baby up, she's with the
sitter."
"You have a
child?"
"Yeah, I didn't tell
you?" I reached in my wallet and pulled out a picture of a
little girl. She was about three years old, her caramel skin was
close to my own complexion, she had a head full of wavy hair. I
handed it to him. "This is my baby girl, her name is Keisha."
I picked up my leather dress
and underwear and walked into the bathroom to wash up. I touched
up my eyeliner, mascara and lipstick, I had nice skin and didn't
need foundation or powder.
I took the $400.00 cash that
Frank had given me upon my arrival and the check and placed it in
the hidden pocket in my jacket lining. I took the silver plated
two shooter out of my purse, made sure the safety was on and
placed it in a little pocket that was sewn into the nape of my
neck where a 22 inch, curly wavy, human hair weave covered it. I
was ready to go.
I smiled at the dark eyed,
full mouthed, pretty girl in the mirror, "Damn Bitch you are
good at what you do" I was thinking of the $20,400.00 I had
just received for two hours of my time.
Francois was getting
dressed, he handed me the picture with a roll of money behind it,
when I reached for it he held my hand with both of his, "Do
something nice for your daughter. She is beautiful, I can tell
that you take good care of her. Maybe one day I can take you and
Keisha on a trip to Disneyland or Knotts Berry farm?"
"Maybe, you never know
what can happen in the future. I have never taken any men around
her. I never told any clients about her, so please let's keep this
confidential. The agency doesn't even know about her."
"Don't worry Sparkle
your secret is safe with me. I understand that you want to protect
her."
I leaned in to kiss him on
the cheek and he turned his head and tried to kiss me on the mouth
again.
"You know better than
that."
"You still won't let me
kiss you?"
"Don't take it personal
Francois. I usually don't even kiss anyone on the cheek. I have to
save something for later in life. One day I am going to meet a man
and he isn't going to know anything about this life or care when I
tell him. He will love me unconditionally and take me away from
all of this. We will date like normal people and he will ask me to
marry him. That is the person that I want to kiss. You see I give
every thing else I have away for money. I have to save something.
You understand don't you?"
"Yes I understand. You
know the more I get to know you, the more I like you. Who knows
maybe I can be that guy for you.. You keep working on your dreams,
and if there is ever anything I can do to help you, you promise to
call me. No strings attached. I promise I will be there for
you," He hugged me tightly, too tightly.
When he let go I turned and
headed for the door. I took one last look in the mirror on my way
out making sure my jewellery was in place. Three pair of lions-head
earrings, three gold chains, one with a Lions-head sporting a two
carat diamond in its mouth. I loved lions which represented my Leo
birth sign.
I was heading for the
elevator when Francois peeked out, "Hey Sparkle, I am going
to call for you next week, okay?"
I walked back and gave him a
card with my pager number, "Call me direct, you do know to
keep this between you and me, right?"
He took this as a sign that
I was getting closer to having a relationship with him. What I was
really doing was cutting out the 40 percent that I had to give the
agency. Hell they had made enough money from me off of this
client. If he was going to start calling every week that was 40
dollars am hour that I would be putting in my own pocket.
I got off the elevator and
made my way to my little blue Nissan that was in the underground
parking lot. I loved my little stick shift car. When I got in I
realized I was still holding the money and the picture in my
hand.. I counted it. Oh how sweet, Francois had given me two
hundred dollars to spend on precious Keisha. I kissed the picture
and returned it to my wallet where I had found it when I bought
it. I didn't have any children, unlike most of my friends who had
kids before we had graduated high school in 1977.
Why had I used Keisha's
name? Maybe it was because my little cousin had been on my mind. I
had told my aunt that I would baby-sit. I planned to take her La
Keisha and her brother Jay to the movies tomorrow.
I reached into a hidden
compartment that I had welded into the car so that if I got
stopped the police would not find any thing that I should not have
on me. I retrieved an envelope folded from a hundred dollar bill
and used a gold plated fingernail to powder my nose. It was five
in the afternoon and the traffic was going to be terrible on
Friday.
I was going to be on the 101
for at least an hour trying to get to Compton. I needed to clear
my head and forget about the date I had just turned. I was going
to pick my parents up, and take them to dinner at our favorite
restaurant. My parents were still very much alive and were still
married and living in the house that they had bought when I was
five years old.
Every year since I was a
little girl the week after New Years I used my Christmas money to
treat us to dinner at our favorite restaurant Tracton's. Tracton's
was on La Cienega Boulevard, in what was known as Restaurant Row.
It was owned by a boxer.
I laid my head back against
the head rest and let the cocaine and the Gap Band's "Burn
rubber on me," help me relax. Soon I was snapping my fingers
and back to the real world.
I went through the
drive-through teller at the bank and deposited the check in my
account. I had three different identifications and social security
cards, other then the one with my real name. I never let an
account get over ten thousand because that would cause attention
that I did not need from the IRS.
I was lost in the feel of
the cocaine and the beat of the Dazz Bands "Let it Whip," George Clinton's
Atomic Dog, and a tape of Rick James took me all the way to my
parents home.
Traffic was going pretty
fast and I made it in 40 minutes instead of the anticipated hour.
My mother was still getting dressed. I called the agency and let
them know that I would not be on call until the next day. I had
made enough money to take an evening off. I sat down and picked up
a photo album that my father had been working on. As I looked at
the pictures I drifted back down memory lane.
Chapter 2
1959 - August, 6:04 a.m.
You know some people say
that they don't remember when they were babies; but not me, I
remember everything. It was around 10 p.m when my mother Anna Lee
Broussard's water broke, and the next morning I was here.
She had been in labor for
eight hours, I heard lot of screaming and hollering in the room
but it wasn't coming from her, it was coming from somewhere else
in the room. My mother yelled out "Shut the hell up."
There was another voice saying, "breath and push."
It was a tight squeeze but I
made it. When I saw my mother for the first time, she looked
tired, but beautiful, her first words were, "Oh, she's a
pretty baby."
They took me away and
cleaned me up, sucked stuff out my nose, and put drops in my eyes,
then I was in a room with a lot of other babies and lots of people
kept coming to look at me through a glass window. They thought you
couldn't hear them talking but when the other babies would shut
up, I could hear everything.
. My father, Clyde Harold Jr.
thought I was really red and that something was wrong with me. The
first time I heard his voice he was talking to my Grandmother
Helen Broussard. He said "Whaz' wrong with her head?"
My grandmother hit him,
"That's just cause the head gets squeezed coming through the
birth canal; the bones are not hard and set, she's a pretty baby
and she is going to be just fine. You just have to keep rubbing
her head to mould it."
Three days later when I left
the hospital it was in my father's 1951, forest green, Mercury
Monterey. Home was my Grandmothers house on Hillford Avenue, off
of Rosecran's and Central in Compton. Boy there were a lot of
people picking me up and holding me all the time. I could barely
get any sleep, the moment I fell off someone was coming up,
peeking and making funny faces and goo gooing at me. If they only
knew how ridiculous they looked, I was a happy baby cause I always
had someone to make me laugh and most important of all, I was
loved.
I was the first grandchild
born to Helen and Melvin Broussard, though they were not together
anymore. My grandmother had herself another man; Mr. Willie Bruce,
so I had two grandfathers. There was always a lot of people at the
house. I had three aunts, JoAnn, Francis, Aunt Genevieve and all
my mom's friends who lived down the street; Cookie, Edna, Gwen,
Miss Criss. Then there were my Uncles; Melvin Jr. who was called
Crickett, cause he was short and dark, Curley, Butch and Johnathan
who they called Bumpy cause when he was little, he would get mad
and bump his head against the wall.
It was a lot of fun cause
there were lots of people to play with. My mom would go off to
work everyday One of my mothers friends who lived in the
neighborhood babysat me until my aunt's got home from school and
picked me up. My dad would come by everyday after work. My mother
and I slept in the master bedroom. On the weekends the three of us
stayed in the room together either there or at my father's house.
He lived with his mom in Nickerson Gardens. He had this little
portable television and loved to watch The little Rascals, The
Bowery Boys and westerns with John Wayne and the Lone Ranger and
Tonto.
I was named after my fathers
only sibling; Claudette. She and her husband had two girls who
were a few years older than me. My fathers mother, Theresa Prade
had been abandoned by her husband and the father of her children
when they were very young. She would take the three of us around
to her friend's homes on the weekend when she was not working as a
janitor at the school.
I started walking earlier
than most kids because I had incentive. Mr. Willie would put a can
of beer in the floor, if I walked to it I could have it. By seven
months I was toddling around sucking on every left over beer can I
could get my hands on. By the time I was one I was laying in the
hospital with the lining stripped from my stomach. I know that
some of you would call this abuse, but you have to remember that
back in the day it was acceptable to give a baby a little alcohol
and watch them reel around, it was cute.
I was also being taught to
read and write by the time I was three, because when my aunts and
uncles were doing their homework I always wanted to help, so they
would give me some little blocks with alphabets and letters on
them to play with. My father read to me every night, my favorite
books were Dr. Seuss, Charlottes Web and Winnie the Pooh.
I was three when we moved
into our own place into the Nickerson Garden projects. Nickerson
was in Watt's off of Imperial and Central. My parents had married
when I was one year old downtown at the Justice of the peace. Our
place was a two story townhouse. The living room, dining room and
kitchen downstairs, and two bedrooms and the bathroom were up. We
were the perfect little family.
My father had started fixing
up his car and was in a car club called The Matadors.
When he got it just like he
wanted it with the custom hub caps and little stars in the center
and the long tailpipes someone striped it right in front of the
house. That was the last car that he ever fixed up.
My father had been injured
while in the air force. He was in Guam and somehow fell over a
waterfall, the coral and rocks took the skin off his leg and while
they carried him back through the jungle he was bitten by
mosquitoes. His fever went so high it cooked the veins closed in
his legs and resulted in Thrombophlebitis.
He spent a lot of time in
the Veterans Administration hospital where he would stay for weeks
at a time getting his blood thinned. He went to the hospital
almost every few months or so. I used to think that the hospital
was his other house. One thing about him though, when he came home
he got out and pounded the pavement until he found another job
where he would work until he got sick again.
He went to Trade Technical
College and learned how to sew and make patterns.
We had an Industrial sewing
machine in our kitchen where he made shirts for all the pimps and
players who could afford tailor made clothes.
During the day when my
parents worked I stayed at my grandmothers with one of my aunts or
uncles watching me, and sometimes my grandmother took me with her
to work. I loved going with her, she cleaned rich people's homes
in the Wilshire area, Beverly Hills, and the San Fernando Valley.
In the evenings after Tom
and Jerry went off I would go sit on the porch and wait for my
father to come and get me. He always brought me a little dime
store toy or some penny candy. He would ask me if I had been a
good girl, and I would always say "Yes," whether I had
been or not, that way I already had my surprise before he got a
report..
We didn't have a lot of
money when I was a little girl. My mother was working at Mattel
Toys, I had lots of Barbie dolls. Being the only child I had to
learn how to entertain myself. I had imaginary friends who I would
play with for hours on end. I would later find out that they were
from the other side. Seems I was sensitive to them.. One was a
young slave girl named Michelle, She was sold away from her mother
at the age of seven to a perverse master who abused her body, I
didn't know what that meant at the time, but whatever he did he
must have made her mad cause she stabbed him in the heart and was
hung for it.
There was a teenaged white
girl, Sally who was very mean to me and would always mess up my
room to get me in trouble. She called me Slave, I didn't know
anything about slavery, and I didn't know what I had done to piss
her off so. I felt her hate for me and was scared of her. Michelle
told me that people who die bad, don't stay dead. She was killed
when a guy called Nat Turner with 55 of his friends, killed her
whole family and all their friends. They had been having a
birthday party when they smashed their way into the plantation
house. She likes me cause I don't take truck with none of her
foolishness. I will try to get her to leave you alone."
My other friend and the one
who came most often was an African boy who had died when his
village was raided by the neighboring enemy. His mother who had
been carrying him on her back trying to run away when she was cut
down by a spear, which pierced both their hearts.
I would be in my room with
them just laughing and playing, my parents would always ask me who
I was talking to. I would tell me stories that were so amazing. I
would be saying things like, "They really let your father
have all the wives he wanted? You know I got a uncle who has a lot
of wives, they are all really jealous and he spends a lot of time
making them mind, did your dad have to beat them cause they were
fighting all the time?"
My mom and dad heard me and
came into the room, Daddy said "Who has a lot of wives?"
My mom was looking in the closets and under the bed, "who are
you talking to?"
"My friend from Africa
says that his father had a lot of wives."
"Where did you meet
this friend?"
I looked at them like they
were crazy, didn't they see them, they were sitting right there on
the bed. I opened my mouth to ask them "Don't you see them,
sitting their?" When Michelle said, "You might not want
to tell them about us, because you are the only one who can see
us."
Kende said, "They will
think you mad and send you to the crazy hospital."
"Kim, I asked you a
question did you hear me? And what are you looking at on the
bed?." my mother asked.
"Huh?"
"Where did you hear
that, and what are you looking at on the bed?"
"I guess I dreamed
it."
They looked to one another,
they didn't believe me. My father said "You don't have to
lie, we heard them and I feel them."
My dad was born with a caul
over his face and he had been seeing spirits all his life.
Over the years I had many
friends, one a Chinese girl who killed herself when she was made
to work in a whore house to pay for her family's passage to
America. A Jewish girl named Helga who had been killed by Hitler's
troops in the Holocaust, when they locked them in a room and
gassed them. .
I had live friends too.
There were six kids who lived next door to us. I remember their
mom to this day. Ms. Alice was one of those women who was small on
top and exploded on the bottom. The reason why I am going to
remember her for the rest of my life so clearly is because one day
I was on her front porch playing with her children and she made a
statement that prompted me to make the decision not to have
children until I could afford them.
Ms. Alice and her teenage
daughter, Sharon were having an argument. She wanted her to do the
dishes. Sharon was getting ready to go out on a date and told her,
"I'll do them when I get back, if you don't like it you
should do them your damn self."
Ms. Alice got pissed,
"Well if you dat goddamn grown you little bitch you need to
go have yo own baby so you can get on 'The County' and get your
own goddamn place to live."
Even at the age of four for
some reason this did not sound right to me. Later I asked my
mother about it and she explained what Ms. Alice was talking
about.. "If you don't have a job and have kids to take care
of the government will help you until you can get on your feet.
Most people get comfortable living off the checks and food stamps
and don't even try to better themselves. They are alright with
living in government housing and with food stamps they eat pretty
good, come to think of it they actually eat better than people who
work for a living."
"Then why don't we get
on the county? We could have food stamps and get free food. Eat
crab and shrimp? Ms. Alice has a lot of men in her house and they
still get it.
You could stay at home play
with me and watch t.v. all day like they do."
"They are watching soap
operas all day, I don't watch the soaps, that's for people who
don't have a life. I work, and your Daddy works; when he ain't
sick. We are not going to take money from others when we don't
need to. Plus it ain't worth having some county worker coming
around, all up in your business. You can't have nuthin' nice
because when they come to check they go in your closets and under
your bed. They want to check and see if you have a man living with
you, and all the other heifers around here tell on you the first
chance they get."
Many days I would be outside
playing and the kids would go running through the projects
screaming at the top of their lungs, warning everyone that the
social worker was coming. Men would be climbing out of windows,
and people would run to others houses to have them hold irons, and
televisions so that they would not have to explain how they could
afford these things that were considered luxuries. .
"One day we are going
to have enough money to move into a house of our own. I took
county aide one time, but only for a month. They asked too many
degrading questions, wanting to know how often you have sex and if
you enjoy it. That ain't none of they damn business. Ain't no
amount of money worth putting with that. If we got on the county
your daddy would have to move out, you don't want that do
you?"
"No, I don't want that
Mommy." She seemed upset, I was sorry that I had ever said
that we should get on the county. I was only thinking about the
food we ate every week while Ms. Alice and her kids ate high off
the hog.
When we went to the grocery
store mommy bought a chicken which was for Monday and Wednesday.
On Tuesday we had tacos, and on Thursday salmon croquettes. We
changed up a bit but it was not the big thick steaks, shrimp and
crab like I saw Ms. Alice and them eating, we couldn't afford it.
"Miss Alice has six
kids all by different fathers, and every year she has another baby
so she can get more money on her check. If you notice those men
only show up around the first and the fifteenth when she gets her
check and when the money is gone so are they. For the next two
weeks those kids got to eat wieners, oatmeal and spam, breakfast
lunch and dinner because she stupid. Hummph giving all her money
to some man that don't give a rat's ass about her or her kids. I
would rather work and make my own money so that I can feel good
about myself, and have a man that works, a man that is with me for
more than my little bit of money."
That did make sense to me,
because none of Ms. Alice kids ever had new clothes, they all wore
hand me downs. They all looked different and always were arguing
about who's daddy was better. They didn't have no good toys.
I stopped taking my toys
outside and they couldn't come inside my house to play because
they stole whatever they didn't break. I had lots of toys, my
uncles and aunts and cousins were always giving me stuff and when
I went to work with my grandmother them white folks were always
giving her the toys that their children didn't want anymore.
On payday Mommy would bring
me new outfits for my Barbie's.I had four little fold out cases
that had little coat hangers to hang the clothes on.
I made a doll house out of
shoe boxes put together with Elmer's glue. I made furniture out of
match boxes and single serve cereal boxes that I painted with
water colors. I cut out windows and glued on swatches of fabric to
make curtains. I folded some cardboard paper accordion style to
make stairs, and spools of thread attached to glass that I found
and my father sanded the corners down made nice tables. Boy did I
spend a lot of hours playing with that house.
Brenda and Lisa were my age
and they were my friends, but they were jealous of me and my
clothes and toys. One day I had finally had enough of them and
vowed never to let them get their hands on my toys again. Mommy
had to go over and talk to Miss Alice one day. I had ran in the
house to use the bathroom and when I returned two of my dolls had
disappeared along with my playmates.
I went into the house crying
and my mom didn't even have to ask what was wrong because she
knew. "I told you to stop taking them toys out there, those
kids don't have nothing and what they do have, they don't take
care of. I saw those toys that we gave then in their back yard
smashed to bits. And the dolls I gave them, they tore the heads
off. If they don't take care of they stuff why do you think they
gone do with yours. They are jealous of what you have and will
steal if you blink, that's why I don't let you bring them in here
no more."
She went next door and
talked to Miss Alice, when she came back she had my dolls. I could
hear the kids next door screaming and crying as the sound of the
belt filled the air through the open windows. Children stood
outside listening and laughing.
Miss Alice's voice could be
heard through the open windows, with every swing of the belt she
spoke, ."You ….wack…. stupid little bitch…wack, wack…..
don't you be….wack… taking stuff ….wack, wack, wack…..that
don't belong to yo' dumb ass, and if you just have to, … .wack,
wack, wack, wack, wack, …don't get your dumb ass caught …..
wack, wack, wack, wack, wack, …and have people coming over here
embarrassing me,." After that the wacks went on so long that
I was almost sorry that I had told. I had never seen any one get
whipped that long, the wacks kept coming even after there was no
more crying. I later found out that she had passed out.
The next day when I went
outside and sat on the front porch they came over to me, "Why
you tell on us?"
"Because I let you play
with my dolls and you tried to steal them"
"You got a whole lot of
them, you didn't have to tell, we got whipped because of you, we
should beat you up."
"I'm sorry you got
whipped but it ain't my fault it's yours. If I let you take my
stuff, my mother would whip me, so I am glad it was you and not
me."
The bigger of the two
sisters stepped toward me, "I am going to beat you up."
At that moment my mothers
voice rang in my head, "If someone is going to fight you then
you might as well get the first lick in and make damn sure that
you make it a good one."
I stood up, ran up to her
hit her, hard, right in the center of her face. Her hand flew up
to try to stop the stream of blood that was spraying from her
nose. She saw the blood on her hand and went into hysterics. The
other two ran in the house, within seconds Ms, Alice came out.
"What the hell is going
on out here?"
I pointed at the girl who
was now crying and holding on to her mother, "She said she
was going to beat me up, so I did what my mother told me and hit
her first."
"Is that true?"
"I wasn't going to do
it, I just said I was cause I was mad at her cause she is so
selfish and don't want to share her toys."
"Well I guess you
learned a lesson then huh? You don't threaten people and tell them
you are going to beat them up, cause if they got any sense at all
they gonna whup your ass first, get in the house and clean
yourself up." Ms. Alice turned around an winked at me, who
knew such a little skinny thang could do so much damage. She
laughed her way back into the house.
Later she came out and she
wanted to be friends again. She threatened other children after
that, but she never tried anything with me again. Nor did I ever
bring my toys out. We made mud pies and played with cans, or tied
strings around roaches and raced them. When they asked if they
could play with my toys I told them that I didn't have any. They
knew I was lying but so what.
I told my father what
happened when he came home and he said, "You did the right
thing, don't ever let anyone bully you. I don't care if you get
whipped or not, at least you get whipped standing up for
yourself."
Then he told me a story
about when he was in the Air Force. He and my mother had started
writing one another. Now you have to realize my mother is a
beautiful woman, I am talking beauty pageant beautiful, and that
is exactly what she had sent him
photos of herself in a
beauty pageant. He had them in by his bunk and more than a few
guys got a kick out of looking at them. One day he went to his
bunk and the pictures were gone.
He asked around until he
found out who had them. There was a mammoth of a guy who worked in
the mess hall. He had taken them, now at this time my dad was all
of 150 lbs and was about 6'. This guy was huge and towered over my
father and was at least twice his weight in muscle. Daddy got his
nerve up and went to see the guy.
"I want to talk to you,
I hear you have something that belongs to me, and I want it
back."
The guy turned around and he
looked at my father, and chuckled he could not believe that the
nerve of this guy. "You got your chest out like you are ready
to take a beating over those pictures."
"They are mine and I
want the back." My father put his dukes up, prepared for
whatever came his way.
The man laughed and patted
my father on the head, "You know what I like you, you got
spunk. I am going to give you pictures as soon as I am off
duty." He turned around and walked away.
Now all these guys had been
standing around waiting to see my dad get beat down and when it
turned out like it did, they were all surprised and were patting
him on the back. That night when he got back to his bunk the
pictures were there.
You see the moral of this
story is that if something is important to you, be prepared to
risk your life to keep it. Just like President Kennedy who had
just been shot in Dallas for his beliefs.
With
many thanks for Kim Robinson for joining us at the
Ramblers' Inn
You can visit Kim on the web at:
www.kim-robinson.com
