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Parts Obeah Storyteller

5th Installment of Obeah

They arrived at the pole where Henry was tired and one of the warriors used a knife to cut him loose. He was crying and stumbled, but Adofo caught him, Akosua touched his face,

“Don’t be afraid, we will take you to safety,” she said, Henry felt suddenly calm. He did not know why, but the moment she touched him, all his fear seemed to dissipate,

“Thank you,” he said as the serpents began to disappear into the jungle. The Bokor leader stepped out of his hut,

“You will pay for this,” he screamed, pointing a finger at them.

“Why, are you going to beg Marinette-Bwa-Check to destroy us? You used to be Hougans, good priests, but you had to be weak, evoking Baron Samedi and Marinette- Bwa-Check.” she said, the Bokor looked at her, his eyes shifting from side to side,

“We will use any means necessary to protect ourselves from the Ligaroo King and his army,” he said

“It does not have to be this way, we have one enemy, he is the one who have taken our family, and he is the one who enslaves our people. We should join in our fight against him, it’s the only way we can have freedom,”

“Why would we want to join with you, you little witch, we have Baron Samedi to protect us he is stronger than any Loa you evoke,” He said, Akosua was silent for a second,

“Your ways will be your downfall unless you come back to our village and be what you are supposed to be, healers of souls” She said

“We will take our chances with Baron Samedi, now get off our land before I set Marinette-Bwa-Check on you,” he screamed and two of the serpents flew at him. He retreated into his hut as Akosua and her companions walked into the jungle.

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Storyteller

Island Boi freezing in American Summner

Island Boi freezing in American Summner

This is a picture of my brother on far right, his wife in the purple blouse. They are visiting the US and this is a picture taken last week in Detroit. I noticed my brother wearing layers of clothes so I said to him, “Hey brudda, you cold or something”? He says, I tell you Andy, I am so cold my toe nails are freezing.” Only a visiting island boy would be freezing in the American summer.

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Stories Storyteller

Good marning Neighbouroooo

Good marning Neighbouroooo

Good marning Mis Mabel, you see me ltccle boi, tell me nah wey he dey? oH gard, don tell me he dey in de Chennete trre again nah. Dat boi always indey yuh know. Boi come down dat tree, is sunday marning, time to get ready for chuch. Wah yuh say, yuh back talking me, bunjayyyy, boi do mek me come up dey and get yuh. Yuh better carry yuh liccle tail dung here and take a bade, get yuhself clean for chuch. Gaud do want no dirty child in chuch you know. Yuh hear what I say boi? Yuh tink I wouldn’t climb dat tree and get you dung, hurry up, de mass go start soon. I going back inside and if you duh ready I go bust yuh tail. Miss mabel, have agood Sunday girl. God bless, Hurry up boi.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

He is Not A Beast He Just Black From I am a Dirty Immigrant

I ran into what some people may call racism but I chose to call it stupidity. One day while I was working, a team lead came in to the toy store on his day off. I walked out of the storeroom just as he and his nephew came to the door. I stopped and smiled. The kid, who was about eleven years old, hid behind his uncle. I did not think much of it because sometimes kids are afraid of me. Hell, I was a giant beanpole who spoke with a strange accent. He stood there for a few minutes, his uncle trying to cajole him to talk to me, but the kid cowered behind him. His uncle became irritated and shouted at the kid, demanding that he stop being stupid. His face was red with embarrassment; his brown freckles looking like they would ooze blood. He shouted to the kid that I was not an animal, just black. Up until that point, I did not think that the kid would be afraid of me because I was black. I could not decide if I should be offended or just brush the comment off. The uncle insisted that the kid introduce himself and slowly the kid began talking – not to me, but to some invisible being behind me.

Suddenly, the uncle asked me to watch the kid and walked into the storeroom. I looked at the little fella; he was looking at me as if I was the boogieman about to drag him into a dark hole. I bent over, smiling, and I could tell he was apprehensive. For some reason, an evil idea popped into my head. So, using my natural instinct to bridge the racial gap between this kid and me, I leaned forward, smiling, showing off my perfect white teeth. He smiled back nervously. After a second, I began snarling like a rabid dog. The kid’s face turned blood red. Then he screamed and ran away like the kid in the first “Home Alone” movie. Now that may not have been the most intelligent thing to do, but what the hell, at the time I thought it was funny as shit.

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POEMS Storyteller

The Boy With The Blue Eyes Artwork by Bonnie Moore Delong

The Boy With The Blue Eyes Artwork by Bonnie More Delong

He laughs so hard he begins to cry

Blueberry nectar across the sky

Giving colour to the Blue Butterfly Bush

Creating innocence in the tropical ocean

And the serenity of the gently swirling lagoon

A world you see from outer space

Crystal blue floating in charcoal mist

They are the sparkle of the mountains of Jamaica

The bloom of bonnet fields in Texas

The peace of the Blue Haze of Medford Oregon

And when they close

The light disappears

And the world goes back to being ordinary

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Storyteller

A Portion from the work in Progress Father’s Shadow

Andre ran down Eastern Parkway, he ran until none of the buildings looked familiar to him, and then he stopped and stooped over breathing hard.

“Boi, you run fas for so,” The shadow said. Andre looked around; there was a bodega on the corner of the street. Some older boys were standing at the door. They looked over at Andre and started walking towards him. Andre looked at the shadow; its eyes were suddenly bright red. The boys walked up to Andre, 

“You lost little man?” One of them asked. Andre did not respond.

“Whats wrong homeboy can’t you talk?” The grease from the boy’s hair ran down his forehead leaving dark spots on his denim shirt.

“Why are you in our hood, you trying to move in on our turf?” the boy said advancing,

“I is just teking a walk,” Andre said, The boy looked at his friends.

“You one of them island boys?”

“Yes,”

Where do you live young blood?”

“On Eastern Parkway,”

“You want to have some fun?”

“Don interfere wid me, I is a good fighter,” Andre said as he stepped back and raised his fists.  The boys laughed,

“Come on little man, you can hang with us,” the boy said and put his hands on Andre’s shoulder. They walked past the bodega and down a side street.

They arrived at an abandoned apartment building and went inside. As they walked by open doors Andre saw people lying on broken beds or mattresses on the floor. A young man sat scratching himself as if a colony of ants were crawling all over him. Some shook violently, cursing as they did,

“Wah wrong wid dem?” Andre asked

“They want the white ghost,”

“Eh?” Andre asked,

“They want crack,” the boy said. Andre followed them into an empty apartment with other boys and girls walking around aimlessly. They stopped and looked at him. .

“Who dat?” one of the girls asked,

“This here is island boy,”

“He cute,” the girl said,

“Back off crack whore,” The boy said pushing the girl away, she fell to the ground,

“Screw you G-money,” the girl said,

“Want to have some fun island boy?’ He asked as they sat down in a corner. G-money opened a cooler, dug around in it, then handed Andre a forty ounce beer bottle. Andre hesitated. The shadow eyes appeared next to him,

“Go on me boi, tek it, me, I is a rum man meself, but tek it, it go make you feel real good” Amdre took the bottle and took a drink,

“Ewww, dats nasty, Andre said, The Shadow snickered, its red eyes bounced up ands down. ”

“Keep drinking shorty, it will make you feel nice,” G Money said and tilted the bottle up towards Andre’s mouth. Andre coughs,

“Don want anymore,”

“Come on bro drink up,” G-Money insisted, as his friends laughed and chorused his encouragement.

“Yeah man live a little,” one of the girls said

“Like dey say, live a liccle,” the shadow said. Andre closed his eyes and tilted the bottle,

“Chug chug chug,” the boys and girls shouted.

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Stories Storyteller

Green Leaf, the beat down.

When we were kids, there is this game we used to play called green leaf, the objective of the game is to always have a green leaf on you because if the person you are playing with walks up to you and said green leaf and you don’t have one, you will get the beating of your life, and you can’t fight back, you just have to stand there and take it. I know, I know stupid game, but that is what happens when its an all boys school. I had this fried named Desmond, he was evil when it came to the game. He would wait for weeks, and when you least expected, there he was, a big smile on his face. I would reach into my pocket, pull out a leaf, but after weeks in my pocket, it was a dead brown. I would get punched, pinched, slapped on the back of the head. I always avoided that boy.

Years later, I went to Wesley College, a Methodist high school. I did not know Desmond was going to be there, all I know is I am walking down the street when I heard, “Green leaf,”  I was stunned, I mean it was years. I took off, my skinny legs turning as fast as they could. Desmond gave chase, we ran through the streets, down alleys, through the market square. I ran down a side street and stopped, thank god I lost him. I walked out of the side street and turned back to the market square, hell, I was going to get on my bus and head home, but boy I was wrong, Desmond knew who my favorite mini bus driver and was waiting for me. He unleashed a hurricane of punches and kicks on me, my skinny body felt like it would break under the blows. He walked away smiling, strutting like he just got his first kiss.

Ten years later, I am walking down Utica Avenue in Brooklyn minding my own business when I head someone shout, “Green leaf,” at first I did not pay attention, that is until I heard footsteps coming towards me, they we hitting he ground heavy, and was more of a trot then a sprint. I looked over my shoulder and there he was, an older Desmond, the same bloody afro hairstyle only part of it was white. He was smiling real big. I did not stop to think, I took off running. So here we are, two grown men, running down a busy avenue one screaming “Green leaf!” The other dodging people trying to escape a beating. I got to an intersection and stopped, I mean what the hell was I running from, I am a grown man. Desmond caught up to me, but instead of the beating he usually meted out, he bent over, breathing hard, sweat rolling down his face, his shirt stuck to his back. He reaches out and tapped my shoulder, “Green lead,” he said in between trying to catch his breath. So now anytime I go back to Brooklyn, I was on the look out for Desmond, straining my ears over the noise hoping that I do not hear the dreaded words, “GREEN LEAF!!!!

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Storyteller

Ha ha ha ha ha ha

Ha ha ha ha ha ha

Oh no not the Girlie store ha ha ha ha ha. Little Bubby cracks me up.

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Storyteller

The Shadow and the Confession

Sunday morning Andre got up, got ready and went to church with his mother. They arrived at the church and as soon they walked through the doors his mother turned to him,
“O K, now go to confession, may be the fada could help you,” Andre hesitated, but his mother put her hand on his back and gentle pushed him towards the confessional. Andre walked into the box and sat down,
“Boi you sweating for so,” The Shadow said.
“Don you have no respect, dis ah church,” Andre said as he parted the curtains to the confessional and peeped inside,
“Me, I ein fraid of man or God,” The Shadow responded.
‘Don say a damn word in here, yuh hear me,”
‘Who yuh tink yuh is talking to eh?” The Shadow said. The priest walked into the other side of the confessional and sat down, then gave the sign of the cross,
“Forgive me fada for ah may have sinned, it have been six months since ah gave me last confession” Andre said as he did the sign of the cross. The priest was silent for a second,
“Well son, what is your sins?”
“I don have no sin fada,”
“Everybody have sins son, now tell me what are yours.”
“I don have no sin fada.” Andre repeated. The priest sighed.
“Then what is it your mother told me about you fighting in school?”
“He started it fada, he beat me up,”
“Son, one should always turn the other cheek,” the priest said.
“But fada, de bible also say an eye for an eye,” the priest was silent.
“Boy, are you being smart, now go ahead and confess your sins this instant.
“Ohh de man in de dress is getting vex for so,” The Shadow said.
“I told yuh to shut up,” Andre hissed,
“What was that you said young man?” the priest asked
“Notten fada,”
“She want it, give it to she,” The Shadow started singing a dirty calypso song,
“Shut yuh mouth,” Andre said,
“Young man, remember you are in the house of the lord. Be respectful or I will have your mother punish you,”
“Sorry fada,”
“Now tell me your sins,”
“I kissed Mr. Jones daughter, put me hand down she pants den smell me fingers,” the shadow said snickering, Andre could not help it, he giggled.
“Young man what is so funny?”
“Notten fada,”
“Now go ahead, tell me your sins and you will be forgiven,”
“I don have no sin fada,”
“Yuh go let dat ole white man talk to yuh like dat?” The Shadow said,
“Fada I said I don have no sin, wah yuh want me to say?”
“Son you know that fighting is wrong, you hurt someone, and that is a sin, you have to confess to receive forgiveness.”
“Fada, he hit me first,”
“It does not matter; confess your sins now,”
“Bonjay, de ole white man getting real vex now, yuh go get it,” The Shadow said
“Keep you trap shut!” Andre yelled,
“Young man that is no way to talk now confess,”
“Ohhh, don let him talk to yuh like dat, give him a piece of yuh mind,” the shadow said. Andre hesitated for a second,
“Wey the fuck fada, I say I din sin, why de fuck you trying to make me say I did?” There was silence as the stunned priest tried to collect himself,
“Oh he real vex now,” The Sadow said,” the priest came out of his side, pulled the curtain on Andre’s side and yanked him out,
“Filthy mouth, come I will take you to your mother.” The priest took Andre by the ear and dragged him over to his mother.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Go wait over dey,” His mother said pointing to the door. Andre walked away hanging his head. He saw his mother’s mouth drop open with shock, then she stormed over to him, her hazel eyes twinkled with anger.
“Ohhh yuh in deep doo doo now,” The shadow said,

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

He is not a Beast from I am a Dirty Immigrant

I ran into what some people may call racism but I chose to call it stupidity. One day while I was working, a team lead came in to the toy store on his day off. I walked out of the storeroom just as he and his nephew came to the door. I stopped and smiled. The kid, who was about eleven years old, hid behind his uncle. I did not think much of it because sometimes kids are afraid of me. Hell, I was a giant beanpole who spoke with a strange accent. He stood there for a few minutes, his uncle trying to cajole him to talk to me, but the kid cowered behind him. His uncle became irritated and shouted at the kid, demanding that he stop being stupid. His face was red with embarrassment; his brown freckles looking like they would ooze blood. He shouted to the kid that I was not an animal, just black. Up until that point, I did not think that the kid would be afraid of me because I was black. I could not decide if I should be offended or just brush the comment off.  The uncle insisted that the kid introduce himself and slowly the kid began talking – not to me, but to some invisible being behind me.

Suddenly, the uncle asked me to watch the kid and walked into the storeroom. I looked at the little fella; he was looking at me as if I was the boogieman about to drag him into a dark hole. I bent over, smiling, and I could tell he was apprehensive. For some reason, an evil idea popped into my head.  So, using my natural instinct to bridge the racial gap between this kid and me, I leaned forward, smiling, showing off my perfect white teeth.  He smiled back nervously. After a second, I began snarling like a rabid dog. The kid’s face turned blood red. Then he screamed and ran away like the kid in the first “Home Alone” movie.  Now that may not have been the most intelligent thing to do, but what the hell, at the time I thought it was funny as shit.