He was sexually excited (48)

It was many days since Leroy’s last bout of medication from the hospital dispensary, no more small red pills, 3 times per day neither 2 orange pills 1 per day neither light blue pills twice daily nor supervised as Leroy had to take them. His body began to tingle as a sensation of ownership gradually took effect. He began to feel a slow heaving of his penis as it came to life of its own accord. He had almost forgotten that such feelings existed. What with the movements of his organs and rapid sensation of self throughout his body. He began to think of women, breasts and thighs, and smiles and lips and the sensual touch of a female hand, female voices whispered in his mind. He was sexually excited.

Leroy roamed the streets trying not to be detected. His style was individual and unassuming, it was individual and unique. He dressed like an American rapper as he believed himself to be such. Leroy was the man of lyrics. The older folk whispered under their breath.

 “There goes another of the, lost generation”.

“Why the government don’t take them all and put them in the army or send them on some boot camp we will never know”

“Yeah instead of roaming the streets with nothing to do” Said one old man supping on his tin beer.  The photograph held its colour well. Grinning white teeth from an immaculate milk chocolate face, dressed in a white silken bridal gown. What did it all mean? Yvonne smiled at her young enthusiastic radiant bridal face. The man’s face was fixed embellished with that usual reserved twinkle in his eyes.

“Bastard, Mean, mean, mean bastard he tried to ruin my life.” She cursed. 

Yvonne shook her head with eyes fixed on the couples embrace and reflected on a life that could have been, instead of the reality of what happened. That was the sole purpose of the album to record a life that could have been instead of a life that really happened. From there were no more tears the moment the camera shutters were closed it was a picture book romance. There were no more tears for this album she swore. She cast it into the fire. The flames flickered and licked the plastic coating. Green flames orange flames, but there was no black flames to convey the weight of her heart. History was history, Yvonne smiled and closed her eyes and breathed a pained sigh of relief. Relief would be expressed tonight she whispered to herself. Relief of a woman free from her own history Yvonne closed her eyes as the flames consumed the photographs twisting and distorting the images to a blank nothingness.    

Shoot to kill(47)

On realization that he was being observed and recorded, Leroy carried out a daring performance for the surveillance team of her Majesty's Secret Service.

With foot firmly down on the accelerator Leroy drove through one red traffic light, then another. It was as though he was the devil pressing on the accelerator.  Another spirit had inhabited the body of Leroy, driving him on. When his way was obstructed the car mounted the pavement and drove across the South London Park around the lake, then back on the road down heading South Cars hooted pedestrians scattered. The police were alerted.

"He has turned wild. He has turned wild." Was all that could be heard over the police radio?

"Armed police alert, mad dog shoot to kill, and shoot to kill.”

"Amber! Code Amber!" replied the message over the police radio.  The guns were temporarily withdrawn. That code effectively meant Pursuit and Observe only. The cars withdrew. Leroy continued to drive moderately.

 The full beam of his vehicle tried to outshine the warm afternoon sunshine. The car skidded through the mud in the park Leroy felt the power of the merry-go-round turning him as he followed the "G" force sensation of the vehicle.

The days of oppression were over, the nights of torment and anguish, had gone. Leroy had come out; he had opted out as they say. This was his final act of reality. From now on he would no longer belong to himself. They were quite right when the authorities had said, “He had taken leave of his senses." because he had. The feeling of nonconformity was over powering. Leroy sang loudly in the car.  “Country rose, Country rose take me back where I belong Af-ri-ca sweet mother Af-ri-ca take me home country rose.”

The indoctrination was clinical and complete the implant was concealed and embedded deep in his brain.

 

Scanned Oxford St.(46)

As Zeus in ancient Greece, Allan scanned Oxford Street from above, through a series of closed circuit monitors. Reclined in a comfortable armchair Allan sat proud as he watched the square patch of space through monitors. He supped his tea as he watched a man fumbling with a plastic carrier bag near the bus stop. The man eventually came to rest by leaning on a railing as though waiting for a bus. Allan sat arms outstretched with his fingers tapping the console. Having stared at each screen for several hours and finding them interesting but not directly relevant to his life. He became bored. He began to imagine the passers by as people he recognised as being on TV the night before, on the news. He saw a young man that escaped from Rose View prison. He was supposed to be very dangerous the news reader had said. Since most black men were dangerous anyway he did not bother. Allan didn’t give it much thought apart from following the man’s movements from screen to screen down the length of Oxford Street, as he looked into all the shop windows.  

Leroy was in awe of all the expensive clothes and fashionable items he had missed all these years. Overwhelmed by the sights and the mass of humanity, Leroy decided to make his way to Peckham where he was more familiar.

Perched on a bar stool, Leroy glanced for his profile only to be disappointed, at how he had aged. The current occupants of the tavern had removed the mirror; only the stained outline of the wall returned a dull shadow of the African fugitive. An Eastern European glossy bald headed barman snatched the money from his hand, the man’s smile was uneven and warm to cold. Feelings of pain racked Leroy’s body as unwanted emotions flowed through his mind: War, famine, hunger and manacles jingled around his arms and legs, Leroy had broken his term of bondage.

CHAPTER 10 The Escape (45)

The escape from Rose View maximum-security prison was happening, for real. Leroy walked casually through the last 4 of the security doors he maintained a tight-lipped serious demeanour. Only glancing at each camera with a look of hope and expressed desire for freedom. As if by magic the electric doors opened without force or any resistance. Hesitating for a moment, Leroy conversed with the security guard familiar to him in a cheerful and personal tone of conversation.

"How's the wife and kids, Gilbert?"   Leroy asked casually.

"Fine thank you Leroy", replied the guard. Leroy followed the Rose View code of greeting as required; Hello was a high handed full palm hearty wave. The guard responded likewise. Guard 463 opened the second security door with the key. Leroy thanked him and walked out casually. The person behind the camera "E14" continued his observance. Escape was spelt E-X-I-T. The air buzzed with chaos as Leroy mixed freely with outgoing visitors.

It was 11.00am that Mr Alan Steen sat in the tiny cubicle arrayed with a selection of buttons. His main responsibility for the morning was to check all vehicles and operate the barrier. The green button indicated up and the red button was for down. Alan dreamily watched the main road. Camera 1 to camera 7 monitored every movement within the prison grounds for months, but it never perturbed him, except on that the first day of September. The helicopter hovered overhead.

Leroy cut through the wire fencing leading to the field; he bent back the wire and squeezed through. The police helicopter hovered above the prison and circled the woodland.  A thermal image scanner

the wooded area. Leroy could see the helicopter as though out of instinct he adorned himself with the milk bottle cap and covered himself in the bushes. The tension was overwhelming. The Close Circuit TV cameras picked up a shimmering haze the controller focussed into the haze only to conclude it to be the helicopter search beam light, he ignored it.

Travelling in a Big Ship (44)

“Go for it. Ladies and gentlemen I present to you Bob Marley (tribute act) reciting his poem ‘The Slave Ship.’” There was hesitant applause. Since the Bob Marley was highly medicated he recited his poem:

African Slave Journey

Travelling in a big ship

Lying chained down with strangers

But how much more strange is the man with the whip

Who squeeze us together to make space?

To place tribe-man on top of other tribe man

Does he know this agony Does he know pain!

What when I vomit or shit on my friend or my enemy

Must we eat it or live in it worse than animals.

The cries of my neighbour, the groans of my neighbour, the smell of my neighbour................

How do I turn from side to side and when weary on my belly lie?

Family, security is all gone.  Where is my hut my wife, my child?

The pain, the pain, the pain the pain.........

Where is the heart of this brutish warrior man with whip please let me die now! Now!

Here we are confined by our minds. With drugs I sleep,

With drugs I eat, with drugs no sex in my mind,

My limbs wither; my breasts grow like a woman.

As a man I suffer pain and humiliation and more pain and humiliation and more pain.

Slave Ship sinks for me.”

The audience were still awaiting more exhortations of pain and violence. Someone in the audience started to cry. A slow hand-clap commenced until it turned into stable applause. Bob Marley’s poem had touched a chord of pain.

The dusky skinned female inmate flipped her head backwards as she stood on the parquet floor, with a fluid motion she rolled her eyes as though presenting some hidden delight with an alluring warm smile. The images played freely throughout the mind of Leroy.

Delight, ecstasy and animation shivered throughout the doctors body as he stood, stone faced in his pin striped blue suit and black brogues. If this is madness give me more he thought. The young woman approached the horizontal cane calm but determined.  She shuffled her bare feet with extenuating toes clinging to the wooden floor as they crabbed their way towards the cane.  The prison guards gathered round for the entertainment they had been awaiting. The woman’s arms flowed like a kite in the wind to embrace a doctor.  Her toes worked their way to the doctor’s brogues her light arms wrapped round and through his body. He had melted. I made my escape to break away from this comforting enclosed world. Limbo was no longer fashionable ever since the feminist movement took effect. It’s strange how fads come and go.

To the total surprise of the warders one minute they were all there having a party the next minute or 2 hours they had all gone. They only found the tape deck playing over and over some reggae songs. On closer inspection of the tape it had been rethreaded and looped.

“Ingenious little bastards, who would have thought they would have done a thing like that.......” said the guard as he closely inspected the cassette.

The original psychiatric report had awarded them all the classification of dangerous. Even so their close companionship had seemed to render them harmless. It was thought that together they had diluted any aspect of danger.

“And I thought they were all happy here” said the guard as raised the alarm.

“I bet it’s that bloody professor Streaky, he was always a weird one,” said one guard to the next as the panic button was pressed to inform the local police of the break out.

After being routinely turned down by the prison review board they had enough. Madness was their ideal cover.  Each had a multiple of assignments. Their objectives were to stay mad, be mad and glad. Their motto: “was-mad-bad-glad-to-be-free.”

To the total surprise of the warders one minute they were all there having a party the next minute or 2 hours they had all gone. They only found the tape deck playing over and over some reggae songs. On closer inspection of the tape it had been rethreaded and looped.

“Ingenious little bastards, who would have thought they would have done a thing like that...” said the guard as he closely inspected the cassette.

You don't turn yourself like that to me Leroy let me go.

More Poems (43)

I was down at the tube station at midnight waiting for the bus stop home,

Every day I waited and yet it never came. Oh bus stop, bus stop, waits for me.

But all I could see was trains one two three.

*****

Someone hold me tight

For the time is right

Don’t let me loose

For my boots are too tight.

Thank you Nuclear Nancy. Leroy recited his poem:

As an African

I believe in Africa, I believe in African people

I swear by all that is sacred to return

to my motherland

To sleep under the African skies and

To maintain communion with the ancestral spirits of Africa

and to eat the fruits of my labour.

No more shall I be a slave for those of the deep blue,

I will strive for my tribal rights and my African heritage

I will enjoy my liberation through industry and the pleasures of my children.

I will fight to the death against exploitation, Starvation and war until I rebuild

The African gardens of Peace where all tribes shall be united as one.

I will tell my story without hindrance or distortion.

“Kids should be whipped,” said a Messiah.

“Until they confess the devil in them,” said the second Messiah

“But it damages your dignity,” responded Leroy.

“What dignity,” asked Bunny?

“Yourself and human dignity,” answered Leroy.

“But these children these days are too rude and disrespectful, they should be battered down until they show respect to bigger people.”Suffer little children to come unto me, said the first messiah.

“You are suggesting child abuse, then.” Leroy continued.

“Yeah sure Stanton I understand.” said Leroy.

“Any way Stanton it’s your turn to read your poem that you have prepared. What’s the theme  .......?”

“It is about a slave ship”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

iSangoma Intermission for Bereavment

Madiba is my Inspiration

The Rent is spent (42)

It’s not because I’m mad ‘cos I’m bad it is because I am bad that I’m mad.”

There was rapturous applause. He bowed. We were going to have a party and dance with each other. The room was very noisy, a lot of clattering as the hollow stereo sound blared out pop, reggae, jazz and classical music. There was no set theme to the gathering other than ‘having a party’.  The psychologist was there he sat in a corner cross legged with a glass of orange juice by his side and a notepad and pencil. He occasionally tapped his cross legged feet to a different beat to what was actually being played. We noticed. Angelina sat in the middle of the room and rocked backwards and forwards. She rocked when the music played. She rocked when the music stopped like a metronome. The others formed a ring around her and danced around her as we perceived lunatics would do. We all laughed and had a very good time.

The sun arose in a windowless room. I pursued the Ghetto downtown. I chose to live In Peckham not Peckham in me. I live in the Peckham stars high up in the night sky. As siren vibrations of police cars are calling and asking why oh why oh why! Oh why howling voices of the night of children displaced and out of sight.

From reality as they bay their way towards first light.

I tightly shut my eyes to guard my sanity

Yet I cannot shut out what is bright.

My Landlord came round to see me and asked me for the rent I am afraid I cannot help for yes it has been spent.

Black History Month #Nelson Mandela CHAPTER 9 (41)

The cockroaches appeared one by one. They appeared to be gliding above the floor their movements were fluid. The light brown creatures with searching feelers were unrelenting in their own plans. The cell was their universe, their world to go and do as they pleased. The warders or inmates of the prison were of no concern to the Rose view cockroaches. 

It was October “Black History Month” The “funny Gang” had all demanded posters and books and a ghetto blaster to play their black music. They used the posters to cover the windows in the recreation room where they had hoarded their cache of escape equipment patiently gathered over the months and years.  

“Oi professor Streaky!” shouted one of the guards. “What you up today?”

“Today we are discussing the forth coming Black History month,” replied Leroy.

“They are so anti-social,” muttered the guard to his colleague.

“Yes quite difficult, replied the other.”

“Often dangerous if you ask me. Have you noticed that it is the mostly Africans and West Indians we have in here,” said the other guard.

“They all appear the same to me, black and aggressive,” responded the other.

“Well that may be so, but if you check out the admissions record, I think you will find that most of them are from the West Indies. Do you think the whole West Indies are mad then?”  The guard asked.

“They more than likely are all mad to come here and clean up after us,” Replied the guard.

“The problem with this lot in here is that they are all schizophrenic I heard the doctor say,”

The guards Intellectualised from overheard conversations between the doctors.

“These lot in here they all have an attitude, domestic and menial work is far too good for them, isn't that right Professor Streaky,” the guard taunted Leroy. Leroy ignored them. The warders were not particularly concerned about the inmates despite their category. The inmates were seen as loonies an easy meal ticket to be despised and treated indifferently at best and totally ignored. To the guards these inmates were only aggressive when confronted other than that they were perceived as no danger other than to themselves. Like the general population of Black people these were no different they lacked motivation and were lazy they wanted everything done for them.

“Welcome to the ‘Rose View Poetry Recital and Concert’.” There were hoots and cheers.

“I don’t like the way people stare at me when I’m shopping Just because I have got no hair. I feel bad when I go to parties and folk tease me with:

 “Where’s the rhythm in your bones Mr. Jones.

“I have got another one and its better than the first.” He continued................

Just let him escape (39)

“After all don’t you think that ten years in a sterile environment like a hospital ward must have done irreparable damage to him,” said Lady Grey as she reached for the brandy snaps, She continued. 

“Just let him escape look his uncanny knack of anarchy might be of some benefit in an African environment. That same effort of resistance will most likely be his very downfall. Africans are social people generally he won’t last more than a few weeks at the most. Too much European aspiration if you ask my opinion.”Leroy had told the judicial court for his release:

"From a European and Caribbean upbringing that was seriously undermining to a whole race of people "Africans" I became by voluntary acceptance (and physical appearance) one of such people. But I am really a English man European, from the world of shadows by truly seeking the white light, I will one day be bright until then: I hurt now. I suffer now.  I can hear my mother crying constantly weeping. My brothers are angry. I am angry. To throw off my anger I need understanding.”

“Get to the point! Get to the point!” shouted the Baroness chairing the review.

“I need relief from my pain. It only through understands that I exist. I only tolerate my pain to see more visions of pain. Peace and beauty eludes me throughout my economic and material enslavement. It is like a false skin that encapsulates me of which I cannot escape.” In a delirium Leroy could hear the call.

“The library sessions have certainly provided you with a new found sense of eloquence,” Said the Dr Wells sitting next to the Baroness. Exasperated and bored at the review committee meeting and losing his concentration Leroy was unable to resist making a mockery of their authority.

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me out,” he said in a gruff and angry voice.

“Oh no we cannot by the indentations on your finger tips we cannot let you out.” Leroy continued in a high-pitched squeal. He continued.

“The big bad wolf huffed and he puffed at the door of the three little pig’s mansion but he could not get out.” Leroy’s next major breakdown was later the same day. The review board rejected his appeal and he was to return for another hearing in six months.

Sick for such a primitive life style? (38)

“That about sums it up really my one is a bit like that. He is always talking and daydreaming about his past life in some Jamaican reservation area in the hills.  Back ‘home this, and dat. totally fixated with his past.”

“Couldn’t it be some sort of home-sickness,” asked Professor Grey, adjusting the quiff of her blue rinse.

“How can someone be home sick for such a primitive life style? It is just the paradox of the immigrant mind, totally oblivious to their privileged modern lifestyle,” replied the Baroness with a prolonged blink under the weight of her eye mascara.

“He so much wanted to be a Zulu, to belong somewhere, to be part of a kingdom, or an empire or something large and important, something to be feared with a foreign language other than that of his colonial masters. The tongue of people he identified with.  That’s so commendable for a person supposedly mentally ill. The thing is that he even resembles a wild-man. I think he would fit in quite well,” said the Baroness as though describing a completely new refurbishment of curtains. Somehow after all her years as an anthropologist she could finally hand in her post Ph.D. dissertation and commence further research. She would be able to track down her quarry with pinpoint accuracy. Even be published in the National Geographic magazine, complete with native photographs.

“What with his movements, his clicks, his bay full eyes, the black sheen of his skin, his broad sensuous flat black nose, not to forget his agility of mind and proud self assertiveness,” Said the Baroness with another prolonged blink. “Not to mention the implant inserted on the inside of his skull just in the corpus collosum between both hemispheres”, continued the Baroness.

 ‘The primitive’ and the ‘Modernist’ aspirant white. But think of the benefits that go with such field research, the transition to democracy and a black majority government in South Africa provides great excitement and opportunities to consolidate our hold on the mineral wealth.  There was also a chance to contribute to the social and psychological up lift of children, parents and teachers towards a consensus development program.”

Said the Baroness, she continues:

“It is only by immersing Leroy that is in the African reality that I will be able to make a real contribution and fulfil my powers. I can hear the sound -bite now ringing around the world:”

 “It would be like releasing Leroy to the wilds as a kind of experiment, to see if he could re-adapt to the forces of nature. I would be the most informed about the savage mind throughout the whole of history,” Said the Baroness as she nibbled a delicate sweet biscuit.

Camera "E" (37)

 It was during his prolonged stay of three years that he developed a relationship with Camera “E14" and the members review committee that convened every six months.
   Baroness Sturbridge was the States representative on Leroy Marriott Psychiatric review board meetings. To her, Leroy was just a little black monkey in a cage totally mindless and over the edge. As monkeys go Leroy had developed the skill of mimicking to such a degree that he was able to maintain Baroness Sturbridge’s attention, for prolonged periods.
   “It was the Zulu dance routine that actually floored me,” said the Baroness laughing heartily.
    “Not to mention his overwhelming desire to become white, at least he is developing the spirit to understand that all this multicultural shit won’t work and that he is accepted as one of us.”  Continued the Baroness. There he was, doing the Zulu two-step, with mimed spear in hand. The routine was remarkable; she told Lady Grey who sat in the judicial review for want
of something meaningful to do with her life. I hadn’t seen anything like it since I was in Durban on our Banana plantation. He does have these relapses from time to time. He is definitely acutely schizophrenic."
   "How remarkable," reiterated Lady Grey, “And you say he is not really a Zulu" she continued.      
   "No this is it He was brought up in London, probably born there for all I know, I must check on that ....."
   "What is it dear" asked Lady Grey becoming disinterested in the black monkey story.
   Well I need to check whether he was born Kingston UK or Kingston Jamaica. "
   "Check the Somerset House records, my dear ask Phyllis she is bound to have an instant mole there." Responded Lady Grey.
   "You see, he is of Jamaican parentage, therefore they have no connection with the Zulu, neither the Xhosa for that matter, and there he was clicking a way like a clack clack bird."
   "How remarkable my dear." Baroness Sudbridge had watched the replay of the closed circuit monitor over and over until her interest was satiated. I am so tickled at his Zulu behaviour antics and his desire to become white. It’s as though he is moving to some sort of normality, we’ll have him speaking Afrikaans yet, you watch. 
   “Well would you look at that,” remarked the Baroness.
    “He is finally coming round out of his psychosis, I think gentlemen he is now ready to join civilisation.  The members of the panel nodded in animated agreement.
   “We can’t just let him into the community without monitoring his development.” Dr Wells commented while fiddling with his pipe.
   “We can discuss some of these modern digital computer thingy trackers.”
Said Baroness Sturbridge.  “And why not?”   Remarked Dr Wells.
   It was the Chairman of the board Baroness Sturbridge, was tough with a vice like grip of serrated Brass steeped in aristocratic servitude to her state and with a strong desire for platinum. The latter a mineral she found on her estates in Southern Africa. For the first time in her life felt that by obeying the call of Leroy she was relieving her ancestral burdens of oppression and evil. This truly remarkable man had touched that great abyss of conscience.
A man who could crave for his birthright and originality and simultaneously deny his skin colour and crave to become white the stuff that X- colonial presidents were made, she thought.

With de wires and bead tings baked in side ( 36 )

“Yes I bring your favourite apple pie. With de wires and bead tings baked in side, Mixed with the cinnamon stick mixed up with the slices. I no know which one of us mad, you or me. Since when you start eat wire and computer chips Leroy?  Eeeeie? Yu turn me in a laughing stock with me neighbour Sam and you friend Geoff. How you can ask an electronics expert to help bake cake, eeeeie?”  she continues after a sharp intake of breadth.
“Whooie oh Whooie, you young people come to England to turn mad and now you want us older folk to catch de madness too is that it Leroy a so it go eeeie? Well me nah catch none of you fool fool ways, not me not one little bit.”
“Can you just pass the apple pie Aunt Mo. please thank you”  responded Leroy.
“How you going to eat that rubbish Leroy? How you going to eat that, it nuh will make you sick, unless you have come to your senses and feel de shame and decide to do the horrible thing. Before anything I beg you do not expose yourself again and let me hear about it, Public shame is not a good thing.”

*

CHAPTER (35) Aunt Mo Visits

Aunt Mo never missed her monthly visit to see her ‘mad’ son. She called Leroy affectionately. Aunt Mo showed Leroy her treasured possession of clippings from the papers, before he had a chance to read the clipping she told him “Straighten yu nose do so “she indicated with her thumb and forefinger. He ignored her and commenced to read the clipping.

Police call for help.

Police are appealing for help from more than 150 people and thirty motorists who were driving through Tooting on Saturday May 5, Officers investigating the incident, which resulted in the death of two, people and closed the main Junction. Police have renewed their appeal for witnesses. An incident room has been set up at Amen Corner police station and 8 officers are working on the investigation.

 A photograph of Leroy naked was on the front page of the newspaper. Aunt Mo held it up to show him.

“You proud of yourself, Leroy eeeie” She folded the paper neatly and placed in a portfolio of family pictures neatly covered in clear plastic.

“Some people are even calling me the mad woman with the mad son who runs on street naked. Others are even calling me the wild African. Yu disgrace me bad, bwai. Ah shame! A shame! Shame! A shame so till you makes me sick!” Aunt Mo. became breathless after her exaltation. She was dressed refined in a two-peace pinstripe out fit with her scarf wrapped over her shoulders, with a new pair of spectacles and her hair done in a new style.

“Gawd forgive me but it did better if you did dead. Dem cheque book journalist not so bad though, de account getting bigger every day, me borrow some money all de same and buy a new lather settee and a washing machine. Even if you dead in here in not too bad. Yu didn’t get enough licks as a Pinckney Leroy? Why you turn mad eeeeie?”

“Thanks for visiting me mamma and showing so much consideration you look really nice today. Did you bring what I asked you for?”

Limbo Lil (34)

Well they are always going places where they don’t belong and renaming it. Going into space. Discovering people that already exist.” Continued Bob.
   “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Said Limbo Lil.
   “I seriously believe that they are all from another planet just sent here to harass us, kill us, and wipe us out just like the body snatchers. They snatch our bodies and take our minds.” Said Elvis.
   “You should have been a politician. Don’t tell the doctor that, he will add on 20 more years for that.” Said a Messiah.
   “So it’s kind of agreed that together we will plan some sort of escape from here?” Asked Leroy.
   “Yeah sure we got nothing to lose,” They all agreed.
   Leroy continued talking to Nuclear Nancy. “I am a Blackman is not a description of my skin pigment but has become a statement of my political being. It has become the cover by which I am permitted to survive under. My strategy or will to life depends on my intensity of self-belief, my self-conception, and my self-esteem. I therefore have to think about others perception of my skin colour. Historically we were called Negro, negress, nigger, coolie, coloured, brown and even yellow. Through this process I as an entity was neglected.”

Nuclear Nancy (33)

  

  “I’m more white than brown, I am kind of ochre, to orange.”
   “E-very-ry thing is alright by me girls,” said the black Elvis in a Memphis drawl.
   “I’m not into this black bandwagon stuff,” said Stanton as he chewed spearmint gum. Stanton flailed his arms menacingly, another aspect of his trade mark.
   “We are all the same in the sight of God.” Leroy had to take tact to convince the group.
    “Well we are all committed. It is because we are committed why we should unite. We might as well do something, instead of being victims all our lives. Black people never unite, anything they do they are never united.” He pleaded.
   “Why can’t we unite, eh? Is it because we are mad?” Asked Nuclear Nancy.
   “Well we are not going anywhere else for the moment, let’s do it guys,” said the black Elvis eyeing-up Limbo Lil.
   “That’s the only way to escape racist attacks. We must unite.” Leroy said.
   “Isn’t there a law to protect people like us?” Nuclear Nancy asked.
   “What you mean?” responded Elvis the barrister.
   “You know endangered species ‘homo sapiens’ and all that.” Nuclear Nancy said.
   “I have heard of a law they called the Race Relations, something but it is not to protect us it is to protect the sensitive white people from us. It only alienates us in a corner.” Elvis a barrister in his previous existence responded .   “Yeah but maybe we can use it to our advantage.”
   “Like how?” Leroy asked.
   “Well, ask for special things...” said Bob Marley.
   “Like what... a drum set?” joked Elvis. They all laughed.
   “Anyway it is not just the case of being attacked by racialist white people. It’s more a case of being constantly attacked by yourself, you know, when your head rejects your body and your body rejects your skin. When you laugh when you should be serious and you’re serious when you should be laughing.” Leroy explained.

“Oh I know what You are talking about, being a misfit.” Said Nuclear Nancy.
   “Yeah, that’s it I’m a misfit in a place that rejects me.” Responded  Leroy.
   “That makes sense; did you tell the doctor that?” Asked Elvis.
   “I don’t really think we are misfits, as you put it. I think white people are
misfits.” Said Bob Marley.
   “How do you figure that one?” asked Leroy.