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.

Leroy Went to a Distant Place(32)

What am I really saying? Oh god please do not upset the great white man, please do not make the great Boss man angry otherwise he will take away what little that he has left me with. My soul.   I will be forgotten from all time without even my name to represent me and detached from you.”
    Leroy pleaded to the close circuit camera above him. Again there was no response. Leroy escaped from the grip of the straight jacket with shear ferocity. His arms were out stretched in a posture of  beseech. The guards rushed down to his padded cell, yet again.

   “I have no value. We are children of no value. We are all nothing; we have no part in this reality of life. The fast technological movement of the Northern hemisphere is a blessing from a superior being. So leave me alone,” he pleaded as he threshed his arm and the floppy sleeves of the straight jacket.
    “I am lost in the abyss of self deprivation. I do not want another wimpy, another McDonald's tube food for the modern man. I do not want to be a modern man in a smart suit and a white smile gleaming to impress you with my lies. With the lies of Western genteel curiosity,” said Leroy.
   "Please can you explain yourself, I don't quite follow your meaning?" 
The psychiatrist asked, in his Langian dialectical format. He entered the padded room his voice bounced back to him. Leroy threshed around on the floor, whilst six men in white coats watched.
   “I love the oppressor so dearly he is so bright in his endeavours of survival if only I could learn the tricks, please can you teach me, please teach me. Do not exclude me, I will learn, I will learn.”
   Leroy sobbed as he beseeched the men. "We are the dominant culture you know."
  The psychiatrist whispered as the guards once again restrained Leroy. Dr. Wells stepped back and watched from a safe distance.

   "No! No! No! You are just not objective ............. not quite scientific enough. Where is your validity, Where is your fucking scientific proof.”  Leroy cried noisily to hollow ears.
   “We will see about all this when the parole board meets.” Dr. Wells replied.
    “The Baroness won’t be pleased when your report for parole gets in.” The doctor continued.
   “The shade of my skin colour gives me away. I must be a savage not even a noble savage just an ordinary savage alongside all the other savages of time immemorial. Give her the video, you written the book so show her the fucking film.” Said Leroy as he slipped out of consciousness, back to the open plains where zebras grazed and giraffes chewed with dignity, to a distant place.
    The “funny gang” tried to be natural in the most awkward way possible, as they met and chatted in the recreation room for the criminally insane: “We are all children of African fathers, “Said Leroy. “You might be, but I’m not,” said limbo Lil; she continued ... my father was from Cuba.”
   “And my father is from Jamaica.” Said
   “And my father is in heaven,” stated one of the Messiahs present at that moment in the recreation room.
   “Well all right! All right! “Shouted Leroy in frustration.
   “We are all black people then.”
    “Wait a minute I am not black, I am brown ................ and proud of it,”
said Nuclear Nancy.
   “I am more white, thank you”, said limbo Lil to Nuclear Nancy. She continued:

Who am I ? (31)

  “I cannot recall exactly when I believed in a parallel universe, where there was a person just like me, somewhere else. My twin brother was somewhere out there waiting for me. The thoughts had developed and sustained me. I was in fact living a dual life in the padded prison cell and somewhere in South Africa. I and my twin were suffering because of some great cataclysmic force that had happened and is still continuing now, I know it happened long before my birth, but when oh, when will it cease?” Leroy told Dr Wells. Leroy continued to utter inaudible sounds as he slipped off  the couch and rolled on the ground with his hands secured by the straight jacket, his head bobbed up and down like a caterpillar, of springtime
seeking something to satisfy its senses. Thoughts of hatred and of being watched filled his mind. He gathered himself in a heap and sat on his haunches staring up at the camera.

   “Why was I not born white, like Michael Jackson? Full of life with privileged hands stained with the blood of the savages that Darwin identified to be worthy of no life, worthy of not belonging to anything, anyone, anywhere. Nothing people, to be dislodged from their families, dislodged from the earth. Why must I be a victim devoured by monster cities that craves for blood sweat and taxes.” Leroy shouted.
  
   Wriggling on the rectangular floor, scientific facts and economic theories has dislodged me from civilisation, from the cattle that my ancestors once owned and the land of which they roamed.” Leroy fell to his knees pleading to the sterile lenses above his head as though beckoning to heaven. There was no response. To maintain further authenticity for a deeper form of  madness, Leroy would strip off all his clothes and walk through the dining area.

   “Oi naked kill, that’s what they call ya, naked kill . Mr Intellect did not know that did ya, smarty. ”The guards cursed as they fetched blankets to cover him.
    “Where is the tribe that I do not belong to going, where is their destiny in this great universe?”
   “Why oh why? Oh why? Oh why? Was I dislodged from my ancestors what crime did I commit what crime did my father commit? Why is it that I have a distinct Christian name with little meaning to any one, not even to me?  Who am I? Why is my soul so tortured for want of belonging somewhere to someone on this vast mass of land? I sing the songs of words that I cannot understand I hum the tunes plaintively asking God to bless Africa. 

CHAPTER 8: Atoms (29)

“The tribunal will have a field day with this little gem,” said Dr. Wells in a hushed voice to his assistants as he patted the video recorder. The Baroness will be pleased at the amount of data, said another assistant.
“What are we to make of it all responded the third assistant psychiatrist.  “Well I think that it is conclusive evidence that he is schizophrenic and that it is a family trait.”  The first assistant Psychiatrist Said.”

“Steady on steady”, said Dr Wells.

   During the early years Leroy settled into the steady regime of the Mental Hospital prison.
   He attended ‘Confronting offending behaviour group therapy sessions’, ‘Adjudication for breaking the rules’ and ‘Pastoral care’.

There were currently three messiahs in the west wing, Two living Elvis Presley’s, Nuclear Nancy, Limbo Lil, a living Bob Marley, five self confessed Satan’s, Bunny, who believed in violence as the answer to everything and Leroy who became known as professor Zulu Streaky. Altogether they became known by the prison regime as the “funny tribe” as the warders when seen together  in the recreation room affectionately knew them. The anguish of the routine was more boredom of day in day out doing the same thing over and over again. On occasions some dramatic incident would occur.
   Nancy, was 4ft 10inches, tan brown with fresh full round pretty face. Her hair swept back in a pony tail was soft and frizzy. Her teeth were pearly with the top front two slightly protruding. Her mouth always moved like electric, she could speak complete sentences so hastily that her lips resembled a beak. Nancy always seemed hyper-active in her thoughts she could flit from one subject to the next without loss of memory. It was sometimes a task for Leroy to follow her. To everyone she was there Nuclear Nancy who was incredibly brainy.
   “What do you know about atoms?”
   “Nothing” Conceded Leroy “Apart that it is the smallest particle of a nucleus.” He said.
   Nuclear Nancy beamed , her eyes widened like shining orbs. “At least you know something.” She smiled congenially. 
"I keep telling them, there is a god particle, but no one will believe me."

Rope-a-Dope (28)

  

 This is what he had tried so hard to avoid the monologue; this was why he had indeed shinned down the drain pipe. But once inside the prison I was now a captive audience as long as Aunt Mo. Was able to visit me for the rest of the term of my sentence, he thought. She continued.
 “Why you go trouble de white people Pinckney, eeeie you couldn’t leave them alone eeeie. You go bring disgrace on black people throughout the commonwealth’ Dem even show a photograph of you naked self in all de evening papers, and dailies who would have believed dis. Why you turn you self into a wild animal Leroy? You look like an animal, an animal a naked born animal. It better you did dead naked rather than to run up and down de high street naked, Gaad forgive me, but it better that you did dead rather than disgrace all descent people. I can’t even walk street to do me shopping without newspaper man and woman a follow me. Some even offer me money. Fe you story................ anyway, I open a lickle account for you and de money in there for one day when you come out. I wouldn’t touch a penny of it not me..... dutty (dirty) money, blood money, not me, me wouldn’t touch it. ” Aunt commenced a loud bawling in the lounge meeting room a bawling that would not cease. The Doctor and assistant eventually
escorted her out.
   “I will see you next visiting time ... you here,” said Aunt Mo as she left weeping and bawling. “I will be back.” She left.

Leroy was escorted back to his cell; he collapsed over the table as he muttered: “I have got to get out of here.”
   Screen 4 of the monitor in the observation room was changed to view Leroy after the interview with Aunt Mo. The camera focused on Leroy sitting in front of the dressing table, the plastic coated mirror distorted his
features. The room was spotlessly clean the bed had not been touched since being made; he just sat there reliving his meeting and his childhood. As Leroy was beaten and flogged so too was Jesus, Biko, as Leroy’s father was abused so he abused Leroy, guardian Aunt Mo was abused so she abused Leroy, he was at the end in the chain of all abuse and beatings. Leroy was in the centre of the universe of beatings.He felt. Leroy’s parents convinced him they were beating the stubbornness out of him to enable him to survive the cruel world. Leroy thanked them by offering his body as a living sacrifice for others to do with as they pleased. So they beat him or tried to. Leroy devised an animal cunning, as his means of protection. Since he was not to
be a predator he would be a masochistic survivor.  Like a prize fighter that would use his face as a shield or like Mohammed Ali’s “rope-a-dope” in Zaire.

Scientific Poison (30)

   

Strapped to a bed in the "E" Wing of Normoor maximum-security prison for the criminally insane. “You are nothing, just a set of jumped up Babylonians, you have no right to keep me here, and I am human flesh and blood just like you...” Out of total frustration and basic instincts he cried.    “May you all be cursed for eternity?”  They removed his straps.   “It's al-right we were just carrying out basic tests, that’s all, no need to get upset.” Said Dr. Wells.
   Leroy fell to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably in his cupped palms.
“Sweet madda Africa please help me” he cried in a child like voice.
   “Mr. Wells is cold, sharp and wicked, with him false smile. Please help me, do a beg you, mamma release me from this torment.” Cried Leroy.
   “Nurse, Nurse, he is regressing.”  Called Dr. Wells.
   “Quick bring the syringe he needs sedation. I have heard enough of this gibberish.”
   “Oh no its Dr. T. Ingland” Cried Leroy. “With his dutty medicine of mind control.  Yu is wolf in sheep clothing coming to stab me with you poison scientific prick.” Leroy kicked and flayed his arms wildly. “No! No! Please No!” he cried. Five guards subdued him as he laid face downward the syringe was plunged into the left cheek of his infamous posterior. Leroy let out a shriek and a long whine as the Largactyl took its effect. The sleep was a long one his brain took him through distant worlds of darkness flashing lights like meteors bombarded him as he writhed in slow motion to avoid comets, meteors and distant stars.
   “You must co-operate if we are to treat you,” said the psychiatrist to the fallen figure.  The uniformed operatives marched out of the cell with Leroy’s empty shell of a body to the padded cell unit. It was like days he had laid there without moving. His brain was active but his body motionless.
   "Since I have to be observed," Leroy thought.

    "It would be more interesting if I lead them rather than they lead me. They had my body but Africa has always possessed my soul.” Leroy’s behaviour was in one direction, to the very same people that feel they need to observe him; he would play to the galleries, to those whom had to perform tests, they that find his existence so relevant to their work.  Somehow I have to communicate with my judges my capturers in a meaningful way. Thought Leroy. With hours of mental callisthenics Leroy rehearsed his experiments, until his plans emerged like some great machine in tandem with the mind of the system. Leroy had decided to enter a deeper system of madness in order to elaborate his plan of escape and confound their research.
  

iSangoma

iSangoma 

http://brickfour.blogspot.co.uk/

A Novel

By

Clive    Roy    Ralston   Anderson

Episodes in Blog format be the first to read this easy to read illustrated novel.

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
   To eat and share 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 protect my people and tell my story
   without hindrance or distortion!

De higher - de- monkey climb.............(27)

    

 “Yu backward and ‘fool fool,’ and now you mad.” Aunt Mo continued into her patois. “‘Bwai,’ meaning boy: ‘yu chupid’ you are stupid. “ I don’t know what to do ‘wid’ meaning with you. Mi did always tell you.”
    Aunt Mo. raised her hands above the desk and made chopping motions in the air as she indicated the steps as she mimed to her ditty.
   “De higher - de- monkey climb - de- more- he -ex-pose himself.” (The higher the monkey climbs the more he exposes himself.)  Her hand fell flat palmed to the desk in disgust.
   “Prophecy! Prophecy! Prophecy!”  She shakes her head in utter disbelief and makes a strange grunting sound as she clears her throat and nasal passage simultaneously as emotion wells up inside her. Leroy knew it was her way of showing utter disgust. It sounded like coconut being grated. He felt saddened as he anticipated the cloudburst that would be following shortly.    “You disappoint me bad Leroy, you sick me stomach to see how you turn out. What ‘mek’ you so bad, how you can disgrace me so, and do such a nasty thing. In all my years in Hngland I have never heard of a black man running naked on De Street and fighting at the same time. What you trying to get In the Guinness book of record or something eeeei?”    “No mama,” responded Leroy full of remorse more for the condition of Aunt Mo. than anything else.
   “Lord have mercy, what ‘mek’ you so bad and does such a nasty ting. I did ‘have a dream bout you, if  I only did know sooner. Why you turn mad eeeie? Why you do such a dreadful ting? Why you turn mad,” Aunt Mo.
Asked repeatedly as the tears started to fall onto her creased patent plastic handbag.
   “If me did lick some dam sense in you sooner if me only did know, you wouldn't turn out like this and end up in a prison hospital for madness. Yu make de doctors all ask me if it in de blood, this schitsy frenzy (Aunt Mo meant to say schizophrenic) sickness. Ah hot you did hot or what? Why you take off your clothes?” Aunt Mo. Reaches in her bag and removes a hand full of tissues and blows her nose and dabs at her tears.
   “This is Very interesting, very interesting.” Doctor Wells Whispers.  The assistants all nod animatedly in the semi-darkened cubicle. “We will probably need an interpreter of Westindian culture phraseology and patois grammar.” the assistant whispered sitting next to Dr Wells.     “Quite so” The Doctor Confirmed. As he scribbled in his notes the need to employ "the first ever" interpreter for Black Jamiacan English.
   After refreshing herself with a cup of tea and choclate biscuits provided by a nurse, Aunt Mo continued her tirade.    “With you African this and African that, me did know it would catch up with you one day me did know it. Being an English man was just not good for you, you had to be different from all de others, eeeeie, eeeie me talking to you eeeie? Since when you come from Africa, which part of you is African, tell me, or better still don’t badda (bother) talk? Cos I know you are feisty, don’t raise my blood pressure here today..........” Leroy sat motionless and speechless.

CHAPTER 7: Aunt Mo. Visits (26)

 Aunt Mo. is escorted into a room with comfortable chairs fixed to the floor where in front is a table fixed to the floor. Leroy is seated and looks hopeful at her familiar face. 
   “Geoff and all you odder friends with clothes on, send to say ‘hello,” said Aunt Mo. coldly.
    “I have been miss-diagnosed mama,” Leroy explains in an instant defence in vain to allay her wrath.
   “Don’t talk poop! The very nice doctor man tell me how you bad and all you antics, and me tell him me know you ‘have always gwan so. It is nothing new.”  She responded with a sense of pride that her beliefs have at last been confirmed. “You are confirming their beliefs mama; I will die here if you continue like that.” Leroy pleaded.
   “You is not me Pinckney you is mad! mad!, mad! You know what I mean.” Said aunt ‘M’.
   Using street talk she had overheard the neighbours use.
   “Do you know what I mean mad!” She punctuated. Holding her head down Aunt Mo. Became distressed. The video camera behind the screen was slightly adjusted so too the motorised microphone above their heads. Dr Wells and three assistant psychiatrists sat well back from the two way mirror and sipped their afternoon tea as the dramatic confrontation unfurled.
  
   “Your big black batty  outer door in England, Leroy. I see it on de television screen. It come on something they call Prime crime watch TV UK, the police asking for assistance from the public, they calling for witnesses, Leroy. You didn't even ‘have the decency to wear a disguise like all de other criminals
you couldn't wear even a hood to cover you face on de programme. But see ya. Why you so fool fool, eehh.” Aunt Mo. gripped her hand bag tightly as thought to control her temper. It had previously been searched and all that was not taken out was a bundle of tissue papers. She continued her tirade.

A #Black Person's identity(24)

   I could  identify aspects of my upbringing that consciously suppressed my will to move forward into the realms of taboo subjects such as that of a Black persons' identity and the concept of returning to Africa. I was even warned by my aunt Mo. my guardian mother at an early age that:
  
    "I should not  talk about being Black or read books by people who talk about being Black or African because I am Black enough already."
   Because of the time of my arrival into the UK at 6 years, I was considerably behind my British peers at school, especially since I had come from a Jamaican rural environment. I was instantly deemed as a misfit
worthy only of being sent back to the 'yard' (Jamaica) from whence I came, by my estranged parents.

CHAPTER 6 Physical and Mental Abuse (25)

Chapter 6

   

   Harsh physical punishment within my family home the context of being  in the UK was considered to be the greatest privilege of my life, of which I had to fight hard to maintain.  It was repeatedly physically beaten into me by my parents  that:

  'I had no time to waste playing with other Black children at school, get educated, and make White friends,'
   That was the path to civilisation my purposes became conflicting, but real , the need to be an 'educated Englishman' and the need to return to a 'rural yard' where my formative and strongest recollections were.  
I spent much of my early years in the UK running away from home and simply living rough in open spaces, I was absent for up to three months at a time, from the age of 10.
  
I was terrorised by my estranged parents with tales of the barbaric and primitive nature of 'Africans',  of how unruly  Africans were for fighting for their independence from their  imperial masters. I watched nightly on TV the    children starving surrounded by giant flies. Their tears were my tears their suffering was my suffering. From observing the stress of my parents at work and the daily personal requirement of combing out the knots in my hair, the use of a variety of creams to lighten my skin colour, the hourly requirement to straighten my nose between forefinger and thumb and all times to be seen wearing a suit collar and tie, all became too much.  I identified with the oppressed 'African' of whom I felt more empathy with, than the  so called  free 'civilised' West-Indian Black English people  of my family and their friends.    

  He therefore has the task of integrating the following significant facets of his self;   West-Indian identity,  Black British Identity, African Identity and now mental health patient.   The need to conflate all identities into one and the belief that the process of continual development will allow him to develop holistically.

The excitement of why should I challenge the identity I was most comfortable with?
  

As a Black Briton (23)

her own reflection in his glasses. She did not know what he meant but it sounded very dangerous and was a little too close to the bone for her comfort. She continued in her best speaky spoky voice. 

   “We do not know of any schits or schitishes, neither have we ever met any.” Aunt Mo. nodded her head proudly as she completed her defence.
   “Oh I see,” responded the psychiatrist unable to make head or tale of this diminutive strangely speaking woman with a bright orange headscarf tied under her chin. Aunt Mo noticed the blank stare by the psychiatrist.
   “And why have you got Leroy in this prison place?”    Aunt Mo. Asked as she slowly angled her face with the psychiatrist’s chin.
   “The police were well within their powers to remove him to a place of safety in a cell or a van. Anyone in a public place judged to on the spot to be dangerous to others or themselves.” Replied Dr. Wells.  As preparing to dismiss this woman as a little strange.
   “I will take you to the interview room” Dr. Wells winced as he spoke knowing full well that he would be able to observe the couples interaction through the two way mirror and probably get a better understanding of the dysfunctional condition of both mother and son.
   “This way if you please Mrs Marriott”.  

   Why is it, that Black/African people are perceived to be underachievers intellectually and perpetuate conditions of being socially disadvantaged? What are the obstacles to learning within a eurocentric framework by Black learners, pursuing an African identity? As a Black Briton I had a vestige interest in attempting to unravel these issues.

“#Zwarte Piet” “#Black Peter” “#Blue Peter” A money maker

Do you believe in #Santa Claus? Then more fool you, he, Santa Claus definitely does not appear to care for #black people, if he did he would sack all these idiotic people who dress up at what they perceive to be how black people dress and behave. This is the biggest lie and delusion, bigger than #St Niklas himself. 

According to folklore Father Christmas arrives in Holland accompanied by his #black servant #’black Pete’.

The people dressed up seem quite wealthy and privileged as they distract the majority of descent #Dutch people to make fun and ridicule black people. They are #wealth creating at the expense of a #black image etched in their mind of others. Why should they not be #black servants for the season to show how false #humility works? After all they have been white and powerful throughout the year they may even have a gold mine or two in #South Africa or some investment as #real black people work down the mines.

St Niklas servant in blackface make-up in beautiful tunics with wonderful well made #black make-up these are great economic opportunities for whom? clown-like figures who leave biscuits and other treats for children. Blackface make-up, red lipstick and frizzy Afro wigs (good product design) are blatant racist caricatures.

 As typical with racist anti-Pete, protesters in Holland have been threatened with lynching. As usual the illogical black haters threaten violence with those who do not comply, thuggery is not good business and I do not recommend it.

The Dutch Prime Minister # Mark Rutte has sided with the “privileged” carrying out their tradition. "Black Pete is black. There's not much I can do to change that," he said.

He dismissed Leroy to his cell (22)

  “Yu want me Jab u” that word had stuck with him ever since and it sounded suitably African, thought Leroy.  “Sah, dey has not captured Jabu yet, like they have captured me. Sir,  liberte  egalite fraternite, Jabu is somewhere now in Africa and dangerous people are after him, me must one day go to save him.” Leroy concluded with a blank stare to the note-pad; the Dr. Wrote in.

“Oh really” replied Dr. Wells. His eyebrows now furrowed as he became more convinced of the young man’s madness. He dismissed Leroy to his cell.

   *

   The police had disturbed Aunt Mo’s siesta to inform her of the arrest of her Nephew. It was that very same day of Aunt Mo.’s first visit to the psychiatric hospital. She was first met by Dr Wells.
   “Is Leroy alright doctor?”  Aunt Mo asked.
   “He has undergone  an acute psychotic reaction to the events that took place.” Dr. Wells explained.
   “He is having late adolescence identity crises.”
   “A fool him fool don’t it?”
   “Well not exactly.”
   Has he behaved in any way strange during the past months?”
   “Nuff times.” They totally ignored Leroy and spoke of him.
   Of how he had ran away from Aunt Mo and the comforts of the family home to roam aimlessly in parks during his early life in England.
   They did not speak of the cramped conditions of a family living in one room with an estranged mother and father.
   “Leroy was always sicky sicky, Doctor.”  She continued. “He would always run away from home doctor running away from discipline and a good upbringing, that’s what he does doctor.”
  
   Uncertain of how to respond to Aunt Mo he looked bemused. The psychiatrist continued. “Is there a trait of schizophrenia in the family?”
   “No sir!” answered Aunt Mo. Promptly looking up to the Dr. and seeing  ................ continued /

Jab-U sounded about right (21)

   “I feel empty sir, living in an empty world that has rejected me. Leroy became tearful as he spoke. And my mind is mash up sir, like a ripe mango that  has fallen from a big tree, mash up you know with worms  inside
eating their  way out of  me head. ”
   “Who do you miss the most out of all your family?” Asked Dr. Wells.
   “I miss my twin brother in Africa, and all the family that is in Africa, the tribe of African people that my English family say where I belong and my Mau Mau friends, fighting against propaganda.  They are the people I miss the most.”
   “Have you ever been to Africa?” Doctor Wells asked with a puzzled expression.
   “Yes sah every time I close my eyes and go to sleep me is back home in Africa talking to me twin bradda and all de African people dat love me.”
   “... And pray tell me what part of Africa are they now?” asked Dr Wells the psychiatrist.
   “In the South, Naught and Central Congo, sir.........” explained Leroy uncertain what else to say to accurately pin point his African family location.
   “Mmmm hem,” responded Dr Wells.    He filled his note-pad with copious notes.
   “... And What’s your brother’s name?” continued Dr. Wells with incredulity.
   “Me bradder name is Jabu and me come from a long line of witch doctors sah. Dem seh me going to marry de Priestess from de next village, if me fulfil me birthright as a man, sah.”
   Jabu sounded about right for Leroy; he could vaguely remember a fight somewhere in Jamaica and one man said to the next man.

Aunt Mo. was also running (19)

Aunt Mo. was also running, as Ivan chased her, through green sugar cane fields. She dodged as she screeched with girlie satisfaction. She hid behind a closely-knit clump of tall stalks and waited. She didn't move. Her bright pretty green blouse was sufficient camouflage, she thought in her dream. It was a light touch on her shoulder by Ivan that shook her. Aunt Mo. screamed with raptures only to awaken in the same drab lonely room. 

   "Eeeeie" she screamed in a shrill high pitch whine.
   Aunt Mo. was awake in shock as her heart palpitated. The crumpled butterflies hastily jammed the tiny gap at the window to merge on to their flight path.
   "Where these sin-tings come from," she inquired as she brushed them from her hair and clothes. The bugs tumbled and yet pursued on their convoy. Where is that Leroy .....?”    It was from a life of suffering that he
had learned how to survive. In Leroy’s mind he was a political revolutionary equal to the greats Rosa Parkes, Marcus Garvey, Salman Rushdie, and President Idi Amin.
   “You say I can’t sit on your bus, well I’ll be dammed watch me, “and she did. 
   Marcus Garvey: “You are going to exclude us as equal citizens in your empire. Well I’ll build my own empire... watch,” and it was built. Salman Rusdie, I will offend whomsoever I please.
   Martin Luther King: We shall not be treated inferior as second class citizens, what’s more I have a dream that one day we shall walk through the garden of peace...” and he did.
   Leroy Marriott: “You would to kill me because of my black skin then here you are in all its glory come and take it,” and he bared it all to his pursuers. Leroy could see the revolutionary connection in his daring. He
was satisfied with his achievements. He had won the battle but alas he had lost his freedom he was captured by the enemy. The psychiatric reports were decisive Leroy Marriot was ill and to be detained in a hospital for the criminally insane. 
   Aunt Mo. had that same repeated dream since Ivan had died, the police had told her. It was his last night out and like Leroy he never did tell her where he was going.

CHAPTER 5: BOUNDED FREEDOM (20)

   

   As iSangoma Olo swayed with the crowd that awaited his divination, his  mind wondered as he  had told the same story to so many western psychiatrists from such an early age they were the only people that granted him any attention in those days in South London.
   In his drugged state Leroy talked incessantly to the nurses and doctors animatedly.
   “Please excuse my tongue and higher language of words that I may speak to you.”  In fact it was only a regression into a mixture of Jamaican and UK patois, ebonics and welcome- to- Africa speak.  The audience listen intently.
    “I was to live in South London. We lived in one room as a family. I was then worried about my granny and aunty and Philo I dog also Trippy the Billy goat that I had left behind in Jamaica. It was the closeness in this new household I couldn't understand. I couldn't go out to play because it was too cold. The fog was thick so it was always night time and everything was grey. The food didn't have any taste and I never see the sun. It was like they had captured me,” said Leroy as he explained to the psychiatrist.
Interrogation by Doctor “So what did you do?” asked the Normoor Psychiatrist, Doctor Wells.
   “I wanted to run away and go back to the citrus grove and smell the sweet freshly picked tangerines and to squeeze the leaf of a lemon tree between my fingers and smell the sweet sap. I knew from then I had to run
away, to make my escape back to freedom. I missed the heavy rain falling on the rooftop like marbles, the earth, when it is wet and muddy squelching between my toes when everything is fresh and sweet; when the rain stops and the sun start to shine again.”  Leroy thought to himself in a semi-hypnotic state.
   “I over here my mother and my father talking, they say I am a wild Pinckney and I am too dam bad, and they wonder which part  of a Africa I  really come from? ”
   “How did you feel about what they said?” asked Dr. Wells.
   “It made me feel better because at least I knew that I come from somewhere. Not like them who had lived in England for so long and pretending to be grey people like their neighbours.”
   “How do you feel now”? Dr. Wells asked.

The Photographers Shouted (18)

No one was guilty, but the senseless vanity of Leroy intermingled with a further senseless envy, hate and opportunity of racialists. Covered by a red blanket a youth was carried to the awaiting ambulance with serum
held vertically above his head. The police were on the scene surrounding Leroy; they handcuffed him and covered him in a blanket. Leroy had streaked for his life and saved himself. Two lives were lost that day and
several injured. Others treated him like an animal and he simply behaved as a threatened animal would, self-preservation without shame. A man stuffed an equity card into Leroy’s hands as he was being led away by the police wrapped in a blanket. “Leroy!”  The photographers shouted, as they snapped for the tabloid press. A group of women keen to seize an opportunity tried to obtain his autograph. Leroy was the first black man to streak through Tooting high street, even though it was a way to preserve his life.
From his caged oppression Leroy had finally broken out to commit his first offence on humanity, naked self-expression.  His adversaries stood no chance; those that had brought the knives had suffered for their intentions. 
Leroy was detained under Sec 136 of the Mental Health Act for 60 hours in a place of safety, a tiny cell in the local police station.
    “He is simply a danger to himself and to others,” added the constable
eagerly.
   “He is what you call a schizophrenic Sir, you know loony.”
   “I suppose so, “confirmed the sergeant. Leroy’s nakedness to the world had saved his life. But it did not preserve his liberty neither his healthy state of mind neither social standing. Diagnosed as mad he was expected to live up to that expectation by the state indefinitely. Not even in the Jamaican
countryside had he experienced such naked freedom. He was restrained under the public order act and convicted for causing a riot and endangering the life of others. Fleeing naked in a built up residential area was his greatest crime against public decency. His pursuers that had died were categorised as accidental death by miss-adventure. Leroy had bated them to chase him through his concrete jungle that he was so familiar with. He knew the mind of his predators better than they knew them-selves; he engaged them in their final act of primordial fantasy. The victim and the oppressor became one in their brief spell of lunacy.

Liberated form(17)

Basquiat

Measuring their distance from him with his eyes, Leroy completed his public striptease exhibition by removing his under-pants. 

There for all to see was his black skin. Standing in the middle of the arcade Leroy turned around slowly to the piped tune of spirit in the sky in all his manly glory. The audience were mesmerised.
   “Yeah Nigga, when ya die ya going to go to the spirit in the sky.” The chorus sang. The noise was deafening as the crescendo of their savage primordial racists taunts took on frenzy. The girls screamed at the spontaneity of the situation mixed with fear, excitement and total disbelief.
Again Leroy measured the distance and the throbbing beat of the music. The gang of racialist thugs, with knives drawn slowly closed their semi-circle.
Like a pack of wolves they snarled, drooling and salivating at their quarry. Leroy had seen such action before, what was new to these young boys was a way of life for Leroy from the internalised aggression of a thousand beatings by his parents and teachers.
   “Kill the Nigga, Kill the Nigga,” chanted the boys. One youth braver than the rest thrust the knife forward, Leroy, side stepping sent the youth to the pinball machine. The knife ricochets from the hard frame of the machine and stabbed the boy in the arm. As the pain struck, the boy widened his eyes staring at Leroy’s naked form. Leroy backed away following the light and the breeze of the entrance to the arcade in an uncharacteristic naked kung Fu posture.
   The snarling baying wolves baited Leroy as they stabbed the air around him. Leroy moved his lithe body from the swishing blades.  As though dancing to avoid raindrops of his own blood, Leroy slithered through the empty spaces as he slowly reversed towards the entrance with back arched towards the street. A dance of frenzied hatred ensued.  As his bottom felt
the cool air of the   entrance to the arcade. Leroy could hear shrill screams of women and children, glancing Leroy could see mothers hiding the face of little children from the sight of his angled posterior. Leroy continued his directional route of escape from the whistling blades. He remembered Sidney Poitier (fully clothed) being in a similar predicament with a clawed hook in an aboiter but this was no cinematic performance this was real. 
Leroy’s shameless nudity now had become a public affair as he had reached the pavement. The disapproving stare of King Edward the VII statue looked down at his black liberated form.
   “If ya want to get this black skin you will have to catch it first,” said Leroy taunting his pursuers to join him in the street. With utter astonishment and outrage his clothed assailants gave chase in their blinding fury. The predators were on his heels, cars crashed as mayhem took the streets. Leroy weaved through the traffic. Two bounding white wolves blinded by their fury and unused to such concrete jungle lunacy were struck down head on by a bus as they gave chase. Women screamed, and children began to cry as the peaceful afternoon became a circus of hatred and fear. 
As Leroy jumped through the traffic and climbed on the bonnet of a car shunting in a traffic jam, Beethoven’s Bagatelle No 25 could be heard. Leroy moved to the music in the cool air, naked. The female driver was mesmerised as she watched Leroy’s form above his knees dangling through the windscreen as he balanced himself in the South London traffic. Like a
true surfer, Leroy maintained his nude balanced state. The young people stampeded towards the entrance of the arcade to avoid the apportioning of blame

Black monkey, Black monkey (16)

Peter also had the instrument (he thought) to keep Leroy on that elevation that he had arrived at. No one saw the glistening blade as its sheen flashed with a glint of its senseless and evil intent. Peter the leader of the gang wanted first strike.

   “Take the nigger,” Peter spat. 
   The arcade was freeze-framed all for the fluttering of three butterflies as they somehow made their way into the long hall of dreams and pain.
        Leroy had committed a heinous crime, caged, oppressed and victimised throughout his life he felt it was time to break out to be free, just as he really wanted to be, as he should. When the knives were drawn against him he recalled the agility and the skill of all the kung-fu fighters - he had seen on TV.    As a pacifist he realised that he could only defend himself
against his attackers, he could not attack. With Leroy’s defensive strategy that he developed to perfection throughout the years of beatings, the perpetrators of the attack did not stand a chance. “Black monkey, Black monkey,” taunts were too much for him.

   In the middle of the arcade, stripping his clothes as though preparing to fight, Leroy took off his immaculate blazer with silver buttons he was so proud of. “Zigger! Zigger!” went the taunts. With the slow deliberation of a striptease artist Leroy removed his cream silk shirt, the one with the thin gold stripes. “ig nog! ig nog! The assailants Shouted in rhythm. Their taunts played to Leroy’s beat. Unbeknown that it was exactly what was required by Leroy to make his show-man ship more effective. Quite an audience had gathered as the racial slurs and insults took on a tune. The taunts continued. Leroy danced as he unzipped his trousers, undid the Pierre Cardin belt and slipped out of his trousers showing his black hairy legs. He
stood still in his “Versachi” underpants with his proud bulge in front. The taunts chorused, “oggy, oggy, oggy.”
   “Oi! Oi! Oi! Was the response?
   Leroy staring blankly without shame removed his socks and faced his aggressors. Measuring their distance from him with his eyes, Leroy 

The Arcade (15)

 

        Leroy's face had become quite tired of smiling at all the girls. So he maintained a fixed grin of which he felt was pleasant to all onlookers. He swivelled his shoulders as he flicked the flippers of the pinball machine with his index fingers. The ball bounced and ran its trajectory course. The artificial gold rings on Leroy’s fingers allured the onlookers more so than his ability to play pinball. One very pretty girl found Leroy genuinely irresistible; she stared at his hair and the kiss curl which perfectly formed a concentric flattened pattern on his forehead with dust of sparklers for added effect. Others looked on with total envy, mesmerized by his total persona of "dude with the cool views on all things futuristic". Some simply swooned at every move he made. Leroy was saturated with much needed attention.
   Peter with a hard angular jaw and seething, chewed vigorously on his spearmint as he fingered the plastic handle of his new knife concealed in his breast pocket, the Sheffield steel was of a bygone age of great industry. With a piercing stare Peter followed the movements of the crowd around Leroy and the whizzing pinball machine. Peter wanted to possess Leroy, he
wanted to truly adore him as the others around, and he itch to show how real men should behave.
    "Hey guys, watch this shot", Leroy flicked his index finger on the “Hey" by the time they had gathered around closer he continued a rapid succession of left handed flickers and right handed flicks until in a great crescendo he clapped both hands which sounded hollow on the wooden casing of the machine.
   "Watch this shot....and this shot .....And this! "
   His voice and the jingle of the machine was all that could be heard. He sometimes listened carefully to the echo of his own voice as it sounded from the expressions of others. The girls were pouting and oohing, they shuffled closer and closer, arranging their hair and gently pressing against him, to gain some of the magic concentrated between Leroy and the machine. The guys were becoming emblazoned with envy and maroon with hatred. Peter
stared as his jaw tired and his tension increased mixed with a senseless intensity of envy and anger.
   Leroy was in a dream, a world of flashing hazy colours, further more he wanted to experience what it was like to appreciate himself. Leroy wanted to possess those that thought they possessed him. In a sudden act of irrationality Leroy turned from the machine and flung his arms in the air,
thrust his hips and tilted his head back like a pop star on stage. He stood transfixed in his own glory. A repetitive echo of the previous night disco- beat like a scratched record hitched in Leroy’s mind.
   "Proud of them, Proud of them, Proud of them, Proud of them, Proud of them..........” Everyone was awe struck, except for Peter who understood that Leroy had reached the pinnacle of his social climax. Peter gripped the handle of the Sheffield steel and as though he too was in shock at his own actions slowly exposed the knife and in slow motion levelled the handle to his hip. Leroy was wide-eyed and motionless as the gum rested on his tongue. Peter was to be at one with Leroy connected by the cold steel blade.