New Hope in the City

"New Hope in the City" - A spiritual awakening?

"It's a bumba clat life - man," says Jamal as he unlocks the doors to
his dishevelled recently acquired flat down on the Green sorted out by
the probation officers. Hyson Green, land of the baddest, rude boys and
the drugs, them dealers with them big cars with the flashing lights,
fattest tunes bangin' out from the stereo - seen. "See, I'm like not
that man, I'm tellin' ya bredren, me try and acted up to them big-man
tings for time, I'm tellin' ya - but it ain't no good, lord it ain't my
ting anymore. I've got me principles an' all tha't. I done me bird, me
time in Lincoln jail, paid me debts to society and now I gonna be
righteous, too right bred, righteous and irie all the more. I'll smoke
da weed a little still, but dem white's an dark that's serious shit
man, big time. Me ain't going back to dem times no more, rarse." I hope
he means it, but something tells me he's genuine this time round. Me
spirit tell me someting good's gonna happen, out 'dis chaos.

Me well my names Winston Brown but 'dey call me King-man. I know a
typical Jamaican name, as you'd expect if you met me - you could kind
of call me an ex-yardie like in all troof. I came over from the yard in
74', worked on the buses for a time as a driver for the City transport
company then, got myself an education an' all, studied Sociology,
Political science and Economics at University - or the polytechnic they
called it in them times. My tutors we're great though, I was the only
black guy on the course then. I graduated with a decent degree, but in
dem days under 'dat Lady Thatcher - it was difficult for anyone to get
jobs, let alone a black man. But people were kind, good to me and
supportive. Me auntie Betsy and cousin John Benjamin helped me out, let
me stay at the yard and cooked me proper nice dumplin' and proper beef
stew when ever they could.

I soon started getting depressed though, as they say too much of
nothing is bad for a man. Especially a man like me 'dat liked to keep
me mind occupied an' 'dat. Me uncle 'Custard' called me up from
Kingston and told me he had a 'business' proposition for me. Skint,
almost destitute - I took my chances, desperation holds no prisoners -
you do what you can. You struggle and strive; sometimes you have to
fight for your life no matter what. He wanted me to pick up a suitcase
from Jamaica at Heathrow, I knew it was not gonna be right but the
money was there. I took it and caught the train up to Nottingham. It
was to be delivered to Skanky Brown, a real large character in Radford.
I took it round his place and in front of me he opened it up and
explained it was pure Colombian cocaine, that he was gonna cook into
'crack'. Crack coke in 'dem days was a new ting, I didn't really know
what was going down with the shit like. I did a few more jobs for uncle
after that, 'earn plenty of dollar for those days. Too much in fact,
when Skanky offered me a pipe one day, after a few rum and cokes it
seemed like a good idea. I had me hit - blud it was magic man. Over the
next three years, I became addicted hopelessly to crack.

That's another story though bred, it was bad though, when they talk of
bottoming out I'd hit the depths of living hell - homeless, begging,
mugging, scrounging and stealing. All I cared 'bout was them rocks of
white pleasure.

Auntie Latiffa knew 'bout it and all so asked me to stay in her yard in
Handsworth, Birmingham. She'd been praying for me for some time. I
turned up in a terrible state, but I'd escaped the streets of Radford
and my dealers who meticulously knew when I'd cash my Giro and had
money, which I'd spend totally on crack. I rattled down those sides, it
was scary blud. Them emotions and feelings all came back, after two
weeks I went with Lattifa to her church in West Bromwich. I knelt down
before the preacher and confessed me sins. Tears ran down me eyes and
remorse was running through me wild. I'd been brought up religious an
'dat by me Uncle Samuel back in Kingston, but it took me to reach the
abyss, before I realised the power of the lord. Now ME's not saying'
there's a right or wrong here, I don't think that there's a monopoly on
truth. But 'dat day down in that chapel I was touched by something or
other it was what Dr. Carl Jung would have called a spiritual
awakening.

In my 'art I realised me potential. I could help others and do good for
the society, that overall 'ad done me good. I went back to Nottingham
at de Trent Polytechnic and did a course in social work. Thank god, or
whatever 'ad 'appened to me during 'dis time. I had no more the
cravings for drugs, I was blessed - to use an ecclesiastical term,
reborn an' refreshed in body, mind an' spirit.
So what 'bout me now. I'm a qualified social worker; I live in a nice
house in Mapperly to a woman I truly love -she works down in the St
Anns community centre. But, I'm not dictative or judgmental like so
many in my profession. Drugs, alcohol and desperation are terrible
masters that feed and breed on one another Out of me misery I've found
'appiness, love, respect and truth. I work with the impoverished, the
'omeless, the addicts and inebriate at a clinic in 'de town. I rehouse
released ex-prisoners, sort out desperate alcoholic mothers and try me
best to give 'ope to 'dis great city of Nottingham. 'Dis is from a man
you'd 'ave seen up an down Alfreton Road, beggin' and blaggin', or
rippin' you off only a few tears ago - to get me raise for a
pipe.

Now it's back to Jamal, one of my client group. He's an intelligent,
genuine and kind young man, when he's off 'dem drugs. In his early
twenties he got involved with a gang 'hough, down 'dem sides on da
Green. Dealin', drugs, teefin' an all 'dem blud clat tings, it's so
easy to get caught up in 'dat trouble, like meself did for time.
It's difficult to get off 'dem drugs if you don't 'ave someting to do.
For me, I was lucky escaped for a while, den got back into me education
an 'dat. Jamal; an' a few others of me clients just got released from
prison. They come back to the same old areas, the high-rises and crack
dens that used to master 'dem, it ain't no good. But recently tings
'ave got a little better. There's a new resource centre set up for the
Radford/Hyson Green area. It get's people like the disenfranchised,
those who had no hope only the oblivion that the next fix offered can
go to. I'm involved and 'ope it goes well, opportunity is now a reality
for the likes of Jamal - I 'ope an' pray he takes it up, 'dis man could
offer so much, if only we could provide the likes of him with a real
future.

It's gone over a year now since I met Jamal. I see him regularly as his
key-worker but not socially, even in some way though I'd like to, but
'dats no professional. It was Lizzy Green down the centre 'dat 'eloped
him so much though. He learnt chess and started a team all on his own
back. She showed 'im the moves an' 'dat was it. He'd found a new love
to displace 'is reliance on drugs. He bought every book, studied the
great grandmasters and played obsessively. One obsession to replace
another like. A month a go he even won a tournament down in Brixton for
black an' Asian players. He's still livin' down the Green, but he 'elps
out at the community centre, training to be a welfare advisor an 'dat
now.
It's people like 'im that make me realise why I love my job so much. Of
course, some go back to their old lifestyles, some prison or
institutionalised, but in fact the majority don't if given the right
tools for life. You see though if you tek de man an give 'im
opportunity an that, a decent education, a little caring and show 'dem
that they ain't too bad, they can be emancipated from their lives of
crime, slavery to drugs an' resettled as decent members of society. For
me, it was the power of the Lord that 'elped for Jamal it was chess.
You can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, when you're down dem
bad sides, but if someone can show you a glimmer, shine a torch for you
if you like, you must follow it with all your 'eart an soul and strive
and fight to get out. Don't forget though as long as you follow that
little light, every like ting's gonna be just fine - fine am tellin'
ya.

Steve Thomas, June 2001.

Authors Note - I wrote this piece several months in advance of the
submission date for the Nottingham Evening Post's annual short story
competition September 2001. It remained unsubmitted however as it
really was a no hoper for such a conservative outlet as a regional
newspaper competition. Not to criticise the NEP and to be fair as it is
written in heavy dialogoue and the subject matter is controversial to
say the least.

June 2001 my archaic lap-top was stolen from my flat and for a while I
ceased attempting to try and write. Before this however, I'd started a
multitude of other 'long' shorts and was hoping to have tailored a
piece to submit along with 'New Hope in the City' that would be aimed
more squarely at the NEP judges and readership of the paper. However,
my addictions and ensuing chaos ensued that from July 01 the only
writing I managed to complete were two poems (tinged by drug and
alcoholic depression) and a bulk of work intended for an
autobiographical novel I've been struggling with.

This is the only piece from the time that survives. I don't really like
it one bit. However, it at least demonstrates my willingness to play
around with dialogoue, has an upbeat ending (which was a first for me )
and keeps within the guidelines for a 'short' short story times in
these days of fleeting attention spans.
A few people have read it and it wasn't completely slagged off though,
However I think it was overtly ambitious with the dialogue and the
themes behind it are well trodden. Well, we learn from our mistakes, so
don't be too critical - please, I'm sensitive.