by RJ Pritchett
“But forgetting made me stop crying,” Devonte said, “My brother Jeremy told me that it was okay to forget stuff because if you remember too much, you’ll start to remember the hurt too.”
“You had a brother?” Patricia asked.
“Yup,” Devonte nodded, “he was the b-”
“How much of your… family do you remember?” Quentin asked, almost hesitating to walk. “No -scratch that. Never mind. Do you have like… bad dreams? Dreams where something bad happens to you?”
“All the time,” Devonte said, looking down. “well, not all the time because there was a time when I dreamed about the day Mommy and Daddy took me and Jeremy to the beach. I was like 3 years old. That was fun… I miss them.”
“We all miss our families, Little man,” Quentin said, “but you don’t have to worry, you’ll see them again in no time…” Silence filled the group as Patricia and Quentin exchanged looks. “Hey, Vince,” Quentin turned his attention to Vincent.
“Huh?” Vincent snapped out of the trance he was in, daydreaming about something he couldn’t remember. “Yeah, what happened?”
“You’ve been kinda quiet since we got to that river back there. You okay?” Quentin asked, just as the sanctuary was in clear sight.
“What? Yeah,” Vincent nodded and smiled, “yeah, Man. I’m okay. It’s just… I felt weird being at that river. It felt like I was supposed to be there… but I didn’t know why.”
“We were supposed to look for wood around that area,” Patricia grinned, Quentin chuckled behind her, “for the bonfire… There’s usually a ton of wood down by the river.”
“No. It was something else… it’s a little hazy, but there was something about that river. That river specifically. It’s like it was calling me. I know it might sound weird to you guys but… there was something. Just can’t put my damn finger on it.”
“Hey, glad to see you’re back!” Maria called out, waving to Vincent, Patricia, Quentin, and Devonte from one of the wooden tables out in front of the giant building. She stood up as they walked closer, “Rebellia and Faye have been sort of analyzing Daphne all day. They just can’t seem to understand why her hair is that way. It’s pretty funny.”
“I’m not gonna lie, it’s weird to me too,” Patricia said, dropping the sealed sack of wood that she carried- onto the grass next to where she stood, “I had a tattoo that I actually wasn’t ashamed of, and now it’s gone. How come she gets to keep her hair dye?”
“Shh,” Quentin whispered, pointing at Devonte without him seeing.
“You had a tattoo?” Devonte said, following suit by dropping the small bag he was carrying right next to Patricia’s bag, “Wow. My brother told me that if you got a tattoo, you couldn’t take it off.”
“It wasn’t a real tattoo,” Patricia smiled, rubbing Devonte’s coarse head of hair as Quentin and Vincent went to add the bags they carried to the couple on the grass, “it was like one of those tattoos that you just have to run under the water to make it stick to your skin. One of those. It’s gone now, and I’m kinda mad about it.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Maria asked, looking at Vincent, “You look… upset.”
“What? Me?” Vincent asked with a confused look seemingly tattooed onto his face.
“He’s just confused,” Quentin said, wrapping his arm around Vincent’s broad shoulders, “I think that river kinda triggered something if you catch my drift.”
“Probably,” Vincent said, “I think I need to take a nap or something. Maybe it’ll-”
“But you’ll probably miss the bonfire,” Patricia said, “It starts in like an hour.”
“I’ll be okay,” Vincent murmured as he pushed past Quentin and Patricia to make his way towards the sanctuary, head down and shoulders slumped.
“I hope he’s better when he wakes up,” Devonte pouted.
“He will be,” Quentin said, rubbing Devonte’s head the same way Patricia rubbed it earlier, “We all feel better when we wake up. Sleep is good for the soul, you know.”
“Yeah, Rebellia tells me that all the time,” Devonte said, “Sleep is good for the soul.”
“And because it’s good for the soul, you won’t be able to stay up for the bonfire tonight,” Maria said, squeezing Devonte as he took a seat on her lap, “It’ll be past your bedtime and besides, the bonfire is for grownups only.”
“Aw man,” Devonte said as tears looked to be swelling in his eyes, and his voice changed to a higher pitch, “b-but I-”
“Okay. How about this? You’ll be allowed to come to the next one,” Maria said in her motherly voice while rubbing the kid on the back, easing him.
“Yeah, next time you’ll be able to stay up, and Rebellia might even let you talk in front of the fire,” Quentin said.
“Like tell a campfire story?” Devonte’s eyes widened, “uh… I don’t think I have any campfire stories. Oh, I know one. My brother told me about this time when-”
“Save it for the next bonfire, Kiddo,” Patricia said, holding out her hand for Devonte to hold. “Come on, let me take you to your room. I even have a very cool bedtime story for you.”
Devonte walked away with Patricia without any complaints. In fact, the fact that Patricia promised him a cool story cheered him up a lot. Out of curiosity, he couldn’t wait to get up to his bedroom to hear it.
“It’s going to hurt that kid when he finds out where he really is,” Quentin said, watching Devonte and Patricia walk into the large building. The doors automatically split apart from the middle as they reached it, “Rebellia said there’s no word on his parents. Same situation as Vincent’s wife. They’re just… not here and everybody else here never even heard of them.”
“Yeah. So unfortunate,” Maria sighed.
“Yeah, I know, but in the morning, a group of us are going out tomorrow morning to look for others in the surrounding area. God willing, we’ll find someone related to those two.”
“I hope you find… someone.” Maria said, putting on a faux smile as a couple of young men walked over to collect the bags of wood Patricia, Devonte, Quentin and Vincent dropped on the grass minutes earlier. One of the men came back to collect another bag and he paused when the sanctuary doors diverged again.
“Hey, Rebellia!” he called out, visibly happy to see her. Rebellia looked at him and waved back. She made her way over, “You ready for the bonfire tonight?” the boy slapped her palm with his own.
“Is that a trick question?” Rebellia smirked, slapping the boy on the arm lightly, “Tobias, you of all people should know that I’m always ready.”
Chapter 6 (Racism 101)
“Racism will never die as long as humans inhabit the earth. Let’s talk about it.”
Everyone claimed their seats around the great swaying bonfire as Rebellia and Faye were having a discussion about something that made Faye laugh hysterically. Maria and Daphne were new additions to the crowd of about forty people that were eager to hear the topic of discussion tonight.
“This is nice,” Maria said, taking in the scenery. The large shapeless structure that a few people built out of sticks was now being consumed by the giant bonfire after Tobias lit the match. This was her first time seeing the bonfire and she couldn’t stop staring at the alluring flames. The sound of the fire crunching as it consumed the wood also kept her attention for a short while. It was almost hypnotic to her.
She was more acquainted with the people around her. Tobias, a guy with wild red hair and who always wore an ear to ear smile and had something humorous to say. Larissa, a very nice woman who was blessed with a voluptuous figure and sported short black hair. She spent the majority of her time around those two along with Daphne and Vincent in the week she’s been at this sanctuary.
“This is very nice,” she said.
“…” Daphne nodded in agreement.
Rebellia and Faye shared a tight hug before Faye rushed over to take her seat between Daphne, and a tall man with dreadlocks in his hair. The show was about to begin, as Rebellia signale
d by holding up three fingers with her right hand as the crowd applauded her entrance to the front of the bonfire. A few people in the crowd mimicked her movement by holding up their index, middle and ring fingers as well.
“A little over a week ago, we lost a vital member of our society. Travis Brooks was one of the coolest, funniest, more genuine people I’ve ever met in my life, and after my life ended. It took me a second to process losing him… but I was eventually reminded of who he was. Travis was a guy who had no reason being in this world in the first place. Seeing the kind of person he was, coupled with the story of the lives he and his best friend Patricia had before their untimely deaths… Travis didn’t belong here, and neither does Patricia. As I look around, there’re a lot of people that lived lives free of horrible sins, but for some reason were sent here at God’s will. Maybe everyone who dies ends up here at some point… no matter how good they were on Earth. Along with Patricia, Travis left a mourning mother, father, sister, and brother on Earth and the good news in all of this is… their lost loved one has truly been accepted into Heaven’s gates.”
A generous applause erupted from the crowd. Rebellia stood in silence as the applause was taking place. She nodded and quickly wiped away a potential tear in her eye.
“He will be dearly missed, but our vision still remains the same…”
“Yes,” Faye shouted, “it’s what he would want us to do.”
Rebellia nodded, “So with that being said… let’s get to business. Ahem… The land of the free was built on everything but freedom. Trapping people and stealing them away from their comfort zones is how America was built. Africans were enslaved by the descendants of the immigrants who stole the land they call home away from the Native Americans. I would love to have been a fly on the wall when Christopher Columbus and all those other cowards passed away and were forced to face God’s judgment.”
“Fuck Christopher Columbus!” someone in the crowd shouted out. That person was soon cheered by his fellow peers, including Rebellia. She continued when everyone settled down.
“That man was on the wrong side of history, but America brainwashed their children into celebrating his achievements without telling the whole story. Those textbooks we’ve read in history class left out the near genocide, thievery, rapings, enslavements, and pedophilia to name a few. Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue to kill Native Americans, and rape them too. That man was pure evil, but the country he ‘discovered’ pretty much was made in his image.”
“Let these motherfuckers know!” someone in the crowd shouted.
“On July 4th, 1776, America was born as the American colonies received their independence from the British. That’s the Independence Day that America shouted and preached about for centuries while in the same conversation they whisper about June 19th, 1865 if they even speak about it at all. June 19th, 1865 was the day the last of the descendants of the African slaves who were kidnapped from their original home, and locked away in unsafe conditions were set free from their bondage. I wonder when’s the next date that the people America separated from their families will be set free from their bondage and unsafe living conditions…
“During the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, people traded their morality for goods and people. The American colonizers saw value in the African slaves although they rebuked them in the name of the God they forced upon them, told them that they were three-fifths of a man even though they said that all men were equal. They were called bad names even though they were good enough to do the slave master’s work, clean the slave master’s house and take care of the slave master’s children. Where is the appreciation?”
“Let’s free the slaves!” Faye shouted out from the crowd, standing up from her seat.
“Okay, they can be free, but they can’t integrate with us. We’ll build a prison system to keep those jobless negroes in line anyway. Also, they’ll have to build their own communities because they can’t occupy our space,” Rebellia responded in a disguised voice.
“Look, there’s a thriving black community in Oklahoma! They call it ‘Black Wall Street’!” Faye shouted.
“Destroy it. Kill everything moving. This never happened,” Rebellia responded in the strange voice.
“Yeah! Black people and white people are finally equal, thanks to the Civil Rights movement,” Faye shouted.
“Sure, tell them whatever they want to hear to stop all this damn rioting,” Rebellia said.
“Wow, those police officers were too aggressive with that Rodney King guy in that video,” Faye said.
“Not guilty,” Rebellia shook her head.
“There are a lot of black people without homes after Hurricane Katrina!” Faye said.
“Huh? Did you hear something?” Rebellia didn’t even look in Faye’s direction, she instead turned to the fire.
“Puerto Rico needs our help!”
“Sorry,” Rebellia adjusted her stance, “I got better things to worry about,” she held her arms together and motioned as if she was swinging a golf club. She swung at the invisible golf ball and used her hand to shade her eyes as she watched the invisible ball sail over the heads of the crowd. “Wait. You know what? I’ll make a quick trip there. I need to work on my jump shot anyway. See? I’m a nice guy, right?”
“That white police officer just shot and killed that unarmed black kid,” Faye pointed out.
“Self-defense. He probably feared for his own safety. I empathize with him… Not guilty,” Rebellia said.
“But… there’s a video…” Faye said.
“I took a glance at it. Officer was just doing his job. If that kid would’ve followed his master’s… I mean the officer’s orders, it wouldn’t have gotten to that point,” Rebellia shrugged her shoulders.
“Black Lives Matter!” Faye shouted out, her fist rose in the air with a bunch of other people’s in the crowd.
“All Lives Matter. How can you think your life matters more than everybody else’s?” Rebellia finally turned around, still using her disguised voice.
“But… I didn’t,” Faye said.
“You said Black Lives Matter, didn’t you?” Rebellia asked, “that obviously means you think the lives of non-black people don’t matter.”
“Look, another school shooting. The shooter was a white male!” Faye brought up.
“That kid was a loner. He’s nothing like the rest of us. He had problems,” Rebellia waved it off.
“Oh my goodness, a black man just murdered another black man,” Faye shouted, covering her cheeks with her hands.
“See what I’ve been telling you? They’re dangerous. How could they scream out Black Lives Matter when they’re killing each other? Black on black crime is at an all-time high. They’ve killed each other more than we ever did. Don’t think about how many slaves we killed on the ships. Don’t think about the centuries of burnings, lynching, rape, beatings, and severing of limbs we did during the golden years back when America was great. Don’t think about the gator baiting. Don’t think about the shooting of runaway slaves. Don’t think about what the police are doing now. Don’t think about the missing black people throughout the country right now. They’re killing each other. Check the statistics. These are the only deaths we keep count of,” Rebellia said.
“Um… there was another police shooting of an unarmed black man,” Faye said, timidly.
“Ugh, fine. Lock that officer up. Hopefully, now they’ll finally shut up about this systematic racism stuff,” Rebellia sighed.
Rebellia paused to look at the crowd. The majority of them went from staring at her to looking at Faye to see if the charade would continue. Faye didn’t respond. She only sat down and stared at the fire behind Rebellia.
“Do you see how stupid and close minded I sounded during that entire exchange?” Rebellia said, back in her normal voice, “Imagine waking up and thinking (or saying) some of those things for real… Tragic.”
“So sad,” Faye said, shaking her head.
“But it’s one
hundred percent truth,” Jabari, the dreadlocked man sitting next to Faye said to her, “It’s sad that there are really people out there that think like that…”
Faye nodded in agreement before Rebellia’s voice grabbed her attention once again.
“Racism is hating someone based on the color of their skin. Racism is hating someone based on their culture. Racism is hate point blank! We were told to pray to a God that loves everyone by the same people that spread hate to certain ethnic groups. Something isn’t adding up. When they go to church, is their pastor preaching self-love and love towards their neighboring humans? If so, why aren’t they following that rule? How can they expect to get into the Utopian society if they can’t even show love on Earth? Those poor fools must believe that God has an ethnicity,” she smiled and shook her head.
“Okay, let’s say you’re not a believer, and God doesn’t exist in your world. Heaven and Hell in the mind of those human beings can be symbolic for these two situations. Heaven is dying with a clear conscience; Hell is living without a clear conscience. How can your conscience be clear if you spread negativity? And here’s a message to the racist people all around the world who do believe in a God: when you die, do you expect for your racism not to be a blemish in the eyes of any truly good God? If so, then what the hell is wrong with you? Judgment day happens for everyone whether they’re Black, White, Asian or any other race because death damn sure isn’t racist. Think about all of the slave masters and other racist scumbags that made life horrible for people of color back in the 1800s, early 1900s, and even before that. Those people are most likely dead and already faced the cruel fate that awaited them in God’s court while the people that decided to carry on that tradition in today’s society are on their way there. Everybody has to answer to a higher power at the end of the day. But they don’t hear me though…
“Racism comes in many shapes and sizes, and it evolved so much over the years. As demonstrated earlier, an example of this new form of racism is shouting out ‘All Lives Matter’ when a person of color screams out ‘Black Lives Matter.’ Why don’t you want African-Americans to tell the world that their life matters when this country has done everything in their power to remind them that their lives don’t matter? Kidnapping, enslavement, feeding little black babies to alligators, public lynching, murder, brainwashing, erasing their history, segregation, destruction of the black family structure, police brutality, more murder, no justice, false imprisonment, the Ronald Reagan era, need I go on?”