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Dads

Several hours ago I watched a small kid wearing a football uniform walking with his dad. He had just left Pee Wee football practice and they were walking in the rain. Everyone was huddling under the NW 1st Avenue & 14th street bridge or ducking into overhangs to escape the rain. Not this kid. He was smiling at his dad, looking up into the rain. His dad had a firm arm around his son’s shoulder as they walked past 14th Street drunks, corner crack dealers and kids who watched him with a longing for a chance to walk in the rain with a man they could call dad.

I always feel uncomfortable when I am outside having fun with my own children and I see kids looking out of the window. I know that sometimes they are the ones who’s father is not there or is only evident by the name on a child support check. I often wonder if that child had a choice would he/she prefer the dad over the check? And why should the child have to make a choice like that in the first place?

Well a friend tried to file with the court to pay child support for his son after he and his girlfriend broke up. When he went down to West Flagler street the first time a lady at the counter recommended that he wait until the girlfriend files against him. A few days later he went back and they took his paperwork but then they never called. He went back after a month and filed the same paperwork again. Eventually he got a hearig with a “Master” but they have never contacted him about paying child support. He noted that not once did the “Master” – a pseudo judge ask the mother if she ensured that the father had regular contact with the child.

We have talked many times about this. He has not heard from the court. He continues to send money to the mother and tries his best to stay on good terms with her so that he can see his son. He is convinced that the weight of the court is skewed towards helping the mother pimp her children for funds. In the process the father who should be an equal partner in the raising of the child is alienated, humiliated and driven away from the child. To make matters worse the father is seen as a funding source for the mother and not a source of support for the child. Why does the court use it’s weight to devalue the father unless it has a underlying financial incentive?

And that does not take into consideration the cornerstone of judicial fairness which is Equal Opportunity Under the Law. If the State represents the mother and sets itself up as a functionary body to collect funds for the mother then in essence it is using overbearing judicial force against the father. If this same judical force was brought to bear upon the father child relationship then perhaps the well being of all these “fatherless” children could be enhanced in a more meaningful way.

*9/704/13*

This weekend was very nice. Fishing, long walks in the city. A trip to the Overtowners little league football game. Ther were thousands with cars parked on every street, on the 14th street bridge, in the church lots and in the Community Center parking lot. I did not stay long enough to see who won the game but people stayed at the community center until well into the night. It was nice to see so many people- no I should say so many neighbors getting along.

Tonight there was an event at the Performing Arts Center. I should say the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts. They paid for the name. I was looking at the building tonight. It is very massive, so much concrete and marble and lights and money close to 1/2 billion dollars. Talking to people about it I learned that it is the largest Performing Arts Center in the country or at least the most expensive. I have no opinions as to what I would have done with all that money, well at least no social commentary. People should be able to send their own money anyway they choose. Hey wait a minute. That was our money! The people of this city invested as much into that center as Carnival. Let’s all pause for a silent prayer for a return on the investment. I pray we do not get bamboozled into another raw deal like that Parrot Jungle place on Watson Island. Now there is a water park by the way – or at least that is what the street banners are advertising. Now that would have been a great development. A water park and a beach right there on Watson Island. The admission price could have been affordable enough to create a demand, the capital outlay would have been less and maybe the city would not have had to pay back thousands in interest free loans.

I had to go to the eye doctor today. Blurry vision, the result of years of working in front of a computer. I was unable to find an optometrist in Overtown. In fact I could only find four medical related facilities in the zip code. The closest doctor was downtown on NE 2nd next to the Camera Corner. I am still recovering from the sticker shock for a pair of glasses which I have not purchased yet. Do they sell glasses on EBAY?

*8/704/13*

Gray Skies

The sky is gray, pink and red. Blended together it appears more a gray sky with the after image from a sucker punch to the eye. The rain is coming. Right now you can smell the dampness. The leaves on the trees face upward in anticipation. It is humid; the air on my arm clumps to my skin in different directions.

I did not work tonight. Instead I experienced what it is like to put the kids to bed while other kids played outside the window late into the night. When I went outside to close the car windows a couple was pushing each other into empty space. By the time the windows were all rolled up the couple had found each others lips in violent agreement. A group of white t-shirted – guys the same group I see every day standing in the same place nodded at me. in return I grunted in passing. I wondered what could keep a man on the sidewalk wearing the same thing as other guys. Maybe it the generation gap. What do you talk about? Do they verify each other by agreeing or do they discuss politics in contrasting themes. I thought about a conversation I had with some coworkers at the credit union this morning. This woman who works in another department who I would actually call an aquaintence since we really do not know each besides the usual hi asked me “how is Overtown?” I get that alot from these elistist libs who think that by knowing someone in the Pork n Beans they gain some street cred. I replied to her, “things are affordable, nice and quiet.” She did not expect that answer and then she looked really uncomfortable.

After several long quiet minutes she injected that Jeb Bush might be nominated as John Mccain’s presidential running mate. I answered that I heard that Condi Rice was going to get that nod. She then told me how she thought Jeb would ruin the country like he did Florida’s education system. I wanted to argue the point but I didn’t. Around here you learn to just nod and move on. I have yet to meet anyone that you could have a conversation with who could consider an opposing view. On NPR a commentator nailed it by saying that today political discussion is really a conversation with two people who want their opinion to be verified by the opposing person. Talking politically in Miami is the practice of holding that thought while angry dems criticise what the people in office are doing. OK I do not agree with everything that is going on. But, if you can not propose a plan to do something different – A plan of action – then you are just spraying everyone with your useless mental masturbation.

*7/704/13*

Crazy John the sign man?

This afternoon I purchased a bottle of bleach from Harba Market on the corner. The owner,from Bangladesh, is a nice guy to talk to. He has a photo of the man who stands at the 95 exit with different signs. I ask if he knows him and he knows John very well. The photo was taken by a photographer from the Miami Herald. He then tells me that John use to be an important talk show host of a Christian radio station many years ago. Then he was drafted and went to Vietnam.

In the aftermath or maybe during that period in his life John went a little crazy. Today he stands outside with placards that say things like: DON’T TRUST THE BLACK SISTERS or THE WHITE MAN’S ICE IS COLDER..”

So after I talk to the owner of the Harba Market I use the bleach to wash some clothes and then I take a quick walk to the post office. It’s only about fifteen minutes walking and more than likely the wait in line will exceed the travel time. When I cross the street at NW 9th I walk right past John. I say “How is it going today?” and John answers me “that is the right question that you should be asking a person – you understand me? Now most of these Southern folk around you, like that man over there, would not greet a man with a interogative such as How is it going? A question like that makes the Southern black man nervous cause he will have to answer you with a truth or a lie that is not the usual rote like “What’s up; whas up; or the brain not functioning head nod – do you understand me?” I was shocked by the burst of words and I just smiled and nodded. He went on by asking me to hold his cardboard. It was damp on the edges from perspiration and it curled under the weight of my hand. Then John proceeeded to tell me his opinion of all Southern blacks; the lingering effects of slavery; why Mike Tyson’s face tattoo and Janet Jackson’s floppy breast were more important than the black doctor who opened her office in Overtown. He asked me if I knew why young folk were proud to say that they were from the ‘dirty South?’ I told him “no, why is that?” He launched into another high pitched diatribe about how boys raised by single women were sexually disfunctional and were the male equivalents of whores. He grabbed my arm and said “Morality is far beyond the psychosis of the dirty south..” And in a whisper he says these men secretly want to destroy women, “just keep your eye on them you’ll see that I am right bout that..” When he started to jumped into yet another opinion I injected that I have to go, and “maybe we can sit down and talk sometime..”

In passing we shook hands and I handed him the poster board and John says “You look like a man of your word – I look forward to that talk.” As he walked away I watched him hail a group of men that sit in the field near the Channel 2 store. They were handing him money.

*6/704/13*

Ghost town

It is a strange night. On the way home from work I encountered one living soul. It was the Night Owl bus driver who waited under the 14th Street overpass. He was probably on his break or just skirting the schedule. The complete absence of people on the street gave the area a very erie feeling. I once got stranded way out in Aventura after Midnight and decided to walk to Mornside where I once lived. This was the same feeling. Not a soul except for a few passing cars. That was when the traffic wasn’t so heavy.

I first noticed the absence of people when I was admiring those big white garbage cans filled to the brim with trash. They belonged the residents of the apartment complex across the street from the Performing Arts Center. They survived the development and those cans were their flags of victory. To me those cans said we are still here despite all that money and privilege and influence. The Manhattan Cafe also survived and is a testiment to the payoff for those who risk a good hunch.

By the time I had reached the Overtowners Market right in the golden triangle before the 14th street overpass I still had not seen any people. Maybe it’s the weather, it is cooler than usual. Maybe it’s the beginning of the sweep. Miami’s influencial most likely got an big eyeful of humanity during the opening of the Carnival Center this weekend and decided that they did not like the ambience. Let’s face it. Who can stand against that tidal wave of money?

Yesterday we visited the Target store at the “train yards” on 36th Street. Everyone is talking about never having to go to North Miami or Aventura again. With the Miami Mini Buses and the Miami-Dade Transit buses running right past the entire complex life got a whole lot easier for most residents. I do not know the names of the other stores that will locate to the train yards but I did see a sign for Circuit City. Publix or Winn Dixie would be idiots if they did not buy into that place.

Thanksgiving is coming soon. I did not have it on my mind but my neighbor gave me a letter from the Miami Rescue Mission. Inside there was a package of dry soup. It said “INSIDE: A cup of comfort for a hurting soul”. Thanksgiving Soup enclosed. I was so inspired by the letter written by Dr. Frank Jacobs that I thought I should mention it in the blog. The Miami Rescue Mission consistently does the work that some of our tax dollars should do – help change the lives of hungry people in Miami. By taking this step they are doing the heavy lifting in rebuilding this city. I am not writing about people in Somalia or Ethiopia or North Korea. What I am referring to is people right outside our doors digging through our dumpsters for our rotten leftovers. (I just wrote that because I am watching a man waist deep in our apartment dumpster looking for a meal.)

To donate food, equipment or household goods call the Miami Mission at 305-571-2273 305-571-2273.

To volunteer your valuable time call 305-571-2227 305-571-2227.

To give a gift online, go to http://www.miamirescuemission.com

Do you have a car or boat or RV that you would like to donate? Take the tax break, eliminate those storage fees and insurance payments. Call Greg Jacobs at Charity Motors at 305-576-3725 305-576-3725. They will tow your vehicle or vessel or you can arrange to sell it from your location. Your donation will help fund training programs and daily feeding programs in the community.

*5/704/13*

Things about people

In Overtown you learn quiet truths about people. You learn about Jamaicans from the valley who only listen to country music, long for it as they scale the steep mountain passes. You meet a Chinese man from Trinidad who wants to know why you have a difficult time seeing that he is Trinidadian not Chinese. His soca mixes right along with his Chutney and he never has set a foot in China. He scolds me for my ignorance borne from years of race coddling. “Are you an American? He asks me? He continues, “Are you an African or an African-American or a black-American or any one of those hyphenated subclasses of the country that you should belong. Cast away those pretenses and take your birthplace as your home. Be an American. Let the others hide their country in their pockets. I tell him that I was born in Germany on an army base and then I ask him if he is a Trini first or a man first? He smiles and agrees with the direction of that thought.

You learn that a woman with a face of a teenager is a fifty-five year old grandmother with three young grandchildren that she raises on her social security check. She thought her kids would grow into adults and have a bunch of grand kids for her to love. Nobody told her that all her kids would be crack addicts and jailbirds who would leave their kids to the world to raise themselves. In a way she is grateful that she is still useful and has learned valuable lessons to instill on the next generation of kids. She tells me, “I am happy to have a second chance to give the world someone to be proud of..”

I learned that most of the kids around here rarely if ever get to go to the beach. We are surrounded by beaches and water but very few of them ever go. A simple 15 minute bus ride will take you from here to the beach at 5th and Washington. We went last week and when we returned several kids surrounded my daughter and peppered her with questions to describe what the beach was like. Later more kids asked about it and we found out that nine or ten of them had never been to the beach. I imagine that a day at the beach would change the perspectives for most kids as soon as they gaze over that vast horizon. Immediately they would realize that the world is larger than a trash littered neighborhood.

A new restaurant called Teresa’s is opening across the street from our apartment building in the old motel building. It is exciting when someone gets that spark of entreprenuerialship and takes the risk to succeed. That leap of faith is what should power the development of this community. I keep seeing these blue and white signs everywhere announcing an October 26th demonstration to stop the development of the Crosswinds condos in Overtown. We sat around with some neighbors talking about it and someone joked about how they used to have to drink from the water fountain that was rusted and barely worked. Above it said Blacks. They went on to explain that back in de good ol’ days blacks and whites never sat at the same lunch counter and now today nobody sees anything wrong with separating the middle class from the poor. At least back then the black doctor lived around the corner from the shoe shine man. Today we will demonstrate to keep our neighborhood an impoverished ghetto in order to keep the rich and middle class out. This is not socialism in the poli-societal sense. It is now called empowerment. My neighbor, an old lady who still works part time at the church down the street finds the whole mess “troubling” and wonders why this group did not buy the land before the developers got to it. I think the consensus is that most people do not want to settle for second best or have someone else decide that for them. Most people recognize their means and most strive for better. But is it fair to deprive those who can afford to live in high rise condos that chance? What should we the poor and the impoverished working-class expect when we work our way into a nicer place? Hopefully, if the real estate continues to adjust to true market values then it will become possible for many of us in the not too distant future. I have not settled on any one opinion about the Crosswinds development. I do believe that the over valued real estate market will implode and render half the city into an inner city ghetto. I remember Houston, Texas after the Savings and Loans debacles of the ’80’s. It is easy to see that the price of money inflated the values of houses in the region and now a vast majority of people are suffering quietly with the payments, the refinancing and the insurance. I am waiting for the property tax revolt when city officials will have to account for the schemes that have driven the property tax rates upward. Especially when the market starts ratcheting the home values down. Above all, maybe it is time people in local organizations start asking the residents of Overtown what they want.

*4/704/13*

Bo weevils

New Overtown Greyhound Bus Station

New Restaurant opening on 11th Street

“There are little bugs in flour!” I exclaimed to her through the walls of our dilapidated house. “You mean Bo weevils? She explained. “Sure I guess.” I said knowing that she saw my ignorance of those little weevils as some sort of victory of her intellect. I did not know what Bo weevils looked like nor why they would be in the flour.

We were out of bread but we had flour. No jam no butter but we had packets of honey from the Wendy’s food bar. Sometimes we got our forks from there as well. Tonight I would make biscuits in the fireplace. She would call them bake. Flour and water and a little sour milk and salt and now Bo weevils. We were hungry and I was going to make some biscuits. With the honey we could barely notice the soft crunch of the weevils. That was ten years ago. We were struggling to keep food on the table. In Miami a part time night job is a treasure and it kept us afloat with a child on the way. That was many years ago..

So yesterday I opened a new bag of wheat flour to make a loaf of bread. I was working with a recipe I got online for a dark Russian bread which I was adding some raisins and Port for an extra twist. I noticed little black specs in the clear glass bowl of flour. I exclaimed “There are Bo weevils in the flour!” “Well don’t use that flour please!” she shouted back from across our OT apartment. Times have changed.

At the Miami Mission’s Charity Motors, Greg Jacobs, the owner takes in car and boat donations so donors can get the tax write-offs. In the heart of Overtown -he then sells the cars for the best offer he can get and then he buys food to feed the homeless and the impoverished. Some of the money goes into hiring people, training people from the Miami mission in tow truck operation and fork lifts. -All this from people’s donated cars and boats.

While driving home from work on my lunch break a car in front of me was blasting Tango music. When the light went from yellow to red a couple jumped out of the car and started during a quick Tango ocho. They embodied the soul of the Tango with all its seduction and all its cockiness. The light turned green and they laughed their way back into their car and drove off. Soulful Tango music trailed through the habanera streets of Overtown. I wondered if anyone who heard the music remembers malambos turned Tango dancers or the black Cuban sailors turned dancers who help build the foundation of the dance in the shipping ports of Argentina. Who teaches about Gabino Ezeiza during Black History month or even learns about any one of the more than 500 songs that he wrote? The habanera streets of the Pioneer Village.

I have been getting emails about who I would endorse for the next Gov of Florida. I am surprised since I usually turn the other cheek when I am asked such a personal question. This year’s politics seems the most seemly out of any year that I can remember. I am totally against this guy Jim Davis. He should adopt the Panda as his political symbol since he finds it so natural to “Pander” to the needs of black voters for his political gain.

He apologized to Mr. Pitts and Mr. Lee to cover up his dislike of these innocent black men wrongly convicted and then he turns around and picks Darryl Jones as his running mate! Who wants a Gov who lacks basic political courage? And please don’t tell me this guy (Jones) does not know what a token is. The average voter knows better. Of course there are people out there who because they do not like Bush will vote for anybody but luckily some voters still have brains in the heads. Besides everything the date May 14, 1990 should go down into political infamy and Jim Davis should be remembered for it.

And what about Charlie Chris? I watched that final debate and he comes off as a total pussy. I mean I have a difficult time believing this guy could drive his way through rush hour traffic let alone run an entire state. My vote will be for Max Linn (Reform) – Retired Financial Consultant & Term-Limits Activist & Tom Macklin (Reform) both of the Reform party. I do not know much about the third party candidate but I will give him unusual consideration this election year.

In one of the local races I see that Darryl Reaves is running again. I have seen his face in other elections and I can not remember what he was running for. But, this time he has chosen to take on Stinson. I have to respect him for that. 99 percent of a fight is getting into the ring and anybody who gets in the ring with Satan deserves my vote. It is truly time to change the line-up on the School Board. So that is my impression of some of the candidates. I try to vote for the person – not the party. A good example of this is Bill Nelson. He looks like someone who is trustworthy and he knows the job. I do not care what party is with.

I found my Voter Information Card today. It says that I have to vote at Culmer Neighborhood Service Center, 1600 NW 3rd Avenue. Who is running for Gov? Well there are actually many candidates to choose from:

GOVERNOR & LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR:

Charlie Crist (R) – Attorney General, Ex-Education Commissioner, Ex-State Sen. & ‘98 US Sen. Nominee & Jeff Kottkamp (R) – State Rep. & Attorney

Jim Davis (D) – Congressman, Ex-State House Majority Leader & Attorney & Daryl Jones (D) – Ex-State Sen., Attorney, USAF Veteran & ‘02 Governor Candidate

Max Linn (Reform) – Retired Financial Consultant & Term-Limits Activist & Tom Macklin (Reform)

Atlee Yarrow (Socialist/Write-In) – State Party Secretary & Printer & Tyrone Adams (Socialist/Write-In) – Ex-Bank Clerk

Omari Musa (Socialist Workers/Write-In) – State Party Chair, Communist Organizer & Frequent Candidate & Ellen Brickley (Socialist Workers/Write-In)

Karl Behm (Independent) & Carol Castagnero (Independent) – Retired Teacher, Democrat & Frequent Candidate

Richard Paul Dembinsky (Independent) – Civil Engineer & ‘04 GOP State Rep. Candidate

& Dr. Joe Smith (Independent) – Chiropractor, Republican & Frequent Candidate

John Wayne Smith (Independent) – Libertarian Activist, Army Veteran & Frequent Candidate & James Kearney (Independent)

Piotr Blass (Write-In) – College Professor, Technology Consultant & ‘04 US Senate Candidate & Jinamarie Gallo (Write-In)

C.C. Reed (Write-In) – Businessman & Frequent Candidate & “Mr. T” (Write-In)

http://elections.miamidade.gov

Books

I spend most if not all my spare time reading. I read everything and besides the Herald and the Wall Street Journal I find that the modern classics are very entertaining. Recently I have been spoon feeding myself Atlas Shrugged over the last several weeks. Jim Conrad’s Lord Jim is interesting and a good read. Last night a coworker gave me a book that she had just finished. It was entitled Thug Love. I have seen a lot of these urban romance/scandal novels in the hands of sex starved women in the neighborhood. The writing is scintillating with lots of eroticism and relationship twists. In fact these books seem to be as entertaining as a good novella. Remember El Clone?

*3/704/13*

The $56 Rent receipt for a three bedroom apartment!

Today I had a sheet of paper stuck in the hinge of my apartment door. It was a receipt for another apartment in another building with the same number. It was a receipt for a three bedroom apartment for $56.00! When I thought of it I think about this old lady that we were neighbors with when we lived on 62nd street. We often referred to her as the white ghost. I would see her at 4:00 am feeding the cats behind the dumpster dressed in a tattered white frock. She was 84 years old. She had lived in the building for over 40 years and she was still paying rent. We learned later that she was a retired broadway actress who now had no family left and no souls to remember her. The image of her barked back into my memory because one day she came home and all her belongings were scattered about the courtyard. The building was being torn down and she failed to read the notices. Everyone pitched in to help her collect the remnants of her life. We learned from her that she was paying $800 per month for her one bedroom apartment. That left her less than $100 per month for other living expenses from her SS check. The images of the white ghost sobbing with quiet dignity at the afront of having her life scattered to the winds left a lasting scar that only burned when I saw that rent receipt. How is it possible that people I meet everyday who are working day labor for a chance at a normal life are living in the streets and then there is someone who prospers by paying next to nothing? To put it in another way – when I was working day labor I was paid $40 cash for a days work. Who is paying the balance of this person’s rent? Is $56 a fair contribution? Our rent is relatively low and we pay about thirteen times as much for the same apartment. I do not much about Section 8 maybe someone can educate me about it. Who benefits from what appears to be extremist socialism?

*2/704/13*

Long Time no Blog

Hi. Its been awhile since I blogged. Today I found out that a friend and mentor Gene Harris of Art by God was ill. He is very old and stills works very hard at keeping his business afloat. Several years ago he hired me to redo his website and I became re-hooked on paleontology and fossil hunting-something which I used to do many years ago before I moved to South Florida.

Many things have happened in one month. Firstly, the Historic Lyric Theater has removed the fencing and made itself more welcoming to the community. That is not to say I did not feel welcomed when I went to that Affordable Housing Town Hall meeting several weeks ago…

Two weeks ago a store/restaurant opened across the street from our apartment building. Every night they have a cluster of kids swarming for their delicious water ices and candies. The store brings additional development to the neighborhood. I also noticed a print shop opening down the street on 11th doing remodeling as well. There was the Miami Dade Community College Book Fair and then the Friends of the Miami Public Library book sale and now Art Basel. A busy month.

Today I was at the Miami Mission Charity Motors. A Haitian couple drove up in their XLT SUV. They walked up to the owner and handed him the keys. The car was just sitting in the driveway they said and maybe another family could use it. He wrote them a donation receipt and they left with a friend. The owner of Charity Motors tells me that good people like that couple stop by every day..

Other mentions in this blog are the four hundreth anniversary of Cervantes’ novel Don Quixote de la Mancha. I gave it to my daughter to read but it is still sitting on her dresser. It is one of my favorite books and I wanted her to see how good a read it is. I was reading an article in the magazine Americas about the country Suriname. It is South America’s most ethnically diverse countries and the youngest at only 30 years old. 27 percent of the country are Hindu, then Islamic and Christian and other religions are practiced. Over twenty different languages are spoken there. Did I also mention the world’s largest nature preserve? I am learning more about South America and will travel there whenever I get a chance. Is it a malpropism to call it “Latin America?”

We watched Miami Vice last night. There is that great scene of Overtown which is mentionned in the dialogue towards the middle of the movie. What great scenery- especially of Habana. A friend says that it is not Cuba but Puerto Rico made to look like Habana.. They even filmed parts of the movie in Port of Prince. My friend Genevieve kept saying something about Ton Ton’s..

*1/704/13*

Little Black Sambo

I still have not received my copy of Vamos A Cuba however I can not wait to read it. I think about how humiliating it must be when an person must be told what they can or can not read. It is probably even more insulting than racism itself. It is oppression by elitism. How many intellectual elites does it take to make a policy that in essence is censureship? No matter how it is rationalized it is still the act of filtering content based on policy.

We should ask questions. Rare books are a window into our history. Should we seek out and destroy books like Little Black Sambo because it defines in clear illustration our racist past? Should we allow mental caretakers to protect us from our emotional sensitivities?

Think about what defines African American Culture. It is clearly not the same factors that define black culture and I mean specifically black racial culture from areas outside of the United States. A comparison of slave societies from the Caribbean or South America shows one common factor. As Americans we have a hyper-emotional preaction to anything race related. And instead of facing this hyper-emotional preaction we have choosen as a group to hide from it and we allow our leaders to use it to control us a group.

The race stick is the cattle prod to keep us in line and clustered politically. So we do not see that African Americans are blacks just like the blacks in France, in Ecuador, Trinidad, in London and Brazil. We speak different languages but as a racial category we are the same. What makes us different is our damaged psyches from American racism. And then to think that the same instruments used to cause the damage should be hidden away from our very eyes to protect our sensibilities. This brings me back to Little Black Sambo. For anyone with low self esteem this series of books is humiliating. But who decided to make the decision for me to censure, to hide, to categorize unfit this book for me?

Today, even in Overtown we live in a multi-cultural society. We are no longer just defined as a culture based upon race. What about the other factors like political beliefs, religious beliefs, and aspirations. In reality most people in Overtown are classified by where we live and how much money we make. We are being conditioned to think that if we are not racial beings then we are not human beings. It is a challenge for those who limit themselves to the racial platform. Take a step in another direction and see if will expand your horizons.

———————————————————————————

*The Story of Little Black Sambo is a children’s book by Helen Bannerman, a Scot living in India, first published in 1899. The little boy who had to sacrifice to tigers his new red coat and his new blue trousers and his new purple shoes— which the tiger wears on his ears— but outwits the predators in his world, to return safely home and eat 169 pancakes for his supper, was a children’s favorite for half a century before it became controversial. The story takes place in a fairy tale India, and the tigers racing around the tree are turned into ghee, rendered as “butter.”

Helen Bannerman, the author of this classic, was an English woman who died in 1946 at the age of about 80. She wrote several other children’s stories, including Little Black Quiba and Little Black Bobtail.

The book has a controversial history. Many consider the work to contain racist caricatures and stereotypes, and the word “sambo”, partly as a result of the book, has a long history as a racial slur. The original illustrations portray Sambo in classic, “darky” iconographical form (see Blackface), with inky skin, wild hair and bright red lips.

*20/704/13*