Diary of Latoya Hunter

by Latoya Hunter

  My mother is really complex though. I still don’t understand her. I had a faint memory of her while I was in Jamaica. She had left when I was 3 or 4. Anyways, they succeeded in getting my brothers, sister and myself up here. When we first got here she worked as a live-in housekeeper in Poughkeepsie for some very rich people. She only came home on Friday and left again on Sunday. We hardly ever saw her but she called all the time. What got her to quit was when I first started going to P.S. 94. I was in computer class for the first time and when I saw that everyone knew what to do, I got depressed. I never saw one before in my life. I cried and cried and the teacher sent me home because I said I had a stomach ache.

  Anyway, my mom heard about it and decided she didn’t want to be away when things like that happened. I finally had her full-time. We enjoyed ourselves at first, being together all the time. But the excitement wore off and when I was around ten, we began the phase we’re in now.

  As I said, I’m living in the Bronx, a place where walking alone at night is a major risk. The streets are so dirty and there’s graffiti everywhere. It really makes you feel down to walk around and see the things around you. The only colors I see are brown and grey—dull colors. Maybe there are others but the dull ones are the ones I see. Maybe if the streets were cleaner, and I would see colors like red and yellow, my surroundings would be more appealing but for now, all I see is dullness and cloudiness. There aren’t any pleasant smells coming from anywhere as I walk the neighborhood—just the smell of nothingness. There are a few stores very close to where I live. They are one of the few things that are familiar to me in this neighborhood. Everyone knows me in these stores because if nothing else, I’m a junk food fanatic! There’s one at the corner, one around the corner and one in between. Besides them, everything is grey.

  Am I lucky or what? I would say not but it wouldn’t be true entirely. There are so many opportunities we’ve gotten that we wouldn’t dream of getting in Jamaica. I guess that’s why they call this the land of opportunity. My mom works in a hospital not far from our house. She’s a nurses assistant, my father does security work. It isn’t a big income family but I’ll make it. I think we all will.

  September 19, 1990

  Dear Diary,

  Just knowing I don’t have to go to school tomorrow made my entire day today. I stayed outside with my friends after school. I haven’t done that for such a long time. I almost forgot how much fun I had with them.

  I’ll tell you about Deborah first, she’s a distant cousin. She’s the one who showed me around at first and introduced me to people. She’s like the leader of our crew. She can act pushy sometimes but I like her. We would call her a Don Girl in Jamaican. That means she’s someone you just respect.

  Then there’s Denise and Monique, they’re sisters, but they don’t really get along. Denise changes her personality a lot and frankly I can’t keep up with her. Monique however, stays the same. She’s funny and just a fun-loving person. There’s also Lisa and Isabelle. Lisa’s cool, Isabelle’s someone I can’t explain. I’m not really crazy about her.

  They, especially Deborah, have taught me a lot. Over the years they’ve shown me how to come out of my shell and have fun. They were the ones who introduced me to things like parties, music, boys … some crazy things we’ve done! One time we planned to go visit a cemetery at night. Is that crazy or what? Only we would do something like that!

  September 20, 1990

  Dear Diary,

  I spent the day helping out my friend Anika. She’s moving out of her apartment. I’ll still get to see her though, she’s still going to go to my school.

  We met an old lady on the street. We walked with her to the bus stop. I think in that short time we spent walking, she actually told us her life story. She told us she’s going back to high school and she seemed to be proud of herself. She told us about God and that He had been her best friend ever since she was our age. It was really interesting to listen to someone who has lived and experienced so much. At first, I was just trying not to be rude so I listened, but soon I found myself wanting to hear what she had to say. I realize now that everyone has a life to them. I see so many faces everyday, it was nice to go beyond the face for once.

  September 21, 1990

  Dear Diary,

  Today three of my relatives from Canada came for a visit; my grandfather and two boy cousins Glendon and Dexton. They’ll be here until Sunday. I hope God keeps them safe for the few days they’ll be here. The other day a guy from Utah was stabbed to death while protecting his family on the train. That is a sad example of the crime in New York especially since he was just visiting for the weekend. The crime is really getting ridiculous here.

  If I had a choice now, I would choose to leave this place. I just can’t feel safe here. I have good reasons too. My father was almost shot when he used to drive a cab at nights. My brother also came close to being a victim of crime. He was held up at gunpoint at the movie theater where he works in Manhattan. Fortunately he wasn’t hurt. I’m really scared to be here.

  My friend Lisa wasn’t as lucky with brothers as I was. Her brother was shot 12 times just the other day. I heard he was on the way to the store and someone waited for him and did the job. It was probably drug-related. He looked like someone involved in those things, sorry to say. She’s still mourning his death. Anyways Diary, that’s the way things are in New York city, my home.

  September 23, 1990

  Dear Diary,

  The weekend was great as always. On Saturday I went to see my aunt Rita. She lives 15 minutes away in the Bronx. Everyone went: my parents, sister, and my relatives visiting from Canada. It was a nice evening. Afterwards I went to my friend’s sister’s baby shower. I couldn’t stay long though because I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. My mother disapproves of me being at that house. I don’t know what she thinks goes on up there but I know she’s wrong. She wrong about everything. She thinks there are things going on that she doesn’t know about, but there aren’t. I think in her mind she sees Deborah and everyone else with a bunch of guys partying and making out—what else could she think? I think she knows I wouldn’t do anything like drugs. If only she’d understand, then I wouldn’t feel guilty every time I want to be with my friends. Today, Sunday, I went to church. My relatives left and went back home. It was nice having them here, even for a short time. I get to take communion now. Personally I don’t like the bread but it’s suppose to be the body of Christ so I eat it. I always make sure however that I have candy to get the taste out of my mouth. Well Diary, the vacation is over. I have to face school tomorrow. I don’t mind though, I’m going to try to feel comfortable there—I’ll really like my classes, and make more friends. I think things would really look up then. So far I like Home and Careers. I’m not so crazy about the teacher but I like the idea of planning and thinking about later on in life.

  September 25, 1990

  Dear Diary,

  Why does school have to come with music teachers?! You would not believe what mine is going to make the class do. I’m talking major embarrassing! The whole class has to sing “We Are the World” in front of the whole school! Can you believe it? I mean, the song is so old. It’s not fair! I bet the kids will boo us off the stage, they’re good at that if anything. We’re supposed to do this thing on Wednesday. Talk about short notice! We rehearsed and I must say, sound terrible. The boys are off key and it’s just a mess. I hope we get it together before Wednesday, we can’t afford to give the older kids more reason not to like us.

  September 30, 1990

  Dear Diary,

  I think I need a name for you. You’ve become like a best friend to me, you’re someone I can talk to without being argued with. I think I know just the name for you. I’ll call you Janice after my best friend from Jamaica. We were like sisters before I left. Over the years we’ve grown apart though, the letters have stopped but that friendship is still going on within me!

  So today I christen you diary, Janice P
age.

  October 1, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  Something horrible happened today. I was walking to the store when suddenly a gray car pulled up beside me. There was a middle-aged Puerto-rican man with a terrible looking beard inside. He blew his horn and called me to come inside, he was holding up money which was supposed to be a lure. It was so frightening. I kept on walking and tried my best to ignore him. I turned into the store and when I came outside he was gone.

  I can’t help but wonder about if another girl who wasn’t as cautious as me decided to go to that terrible man. What would he do to her? Why did the world have to come with people who have to hurt other people not only physically but mentally, in order to please themselves? As I am writing this, that man might have succeeded in his quest. If he had attacked me I don’t know what I’d do. I would of course panic. I’m a panicky person, but I think since I’m not physical, I’d try to talk him out of his plan. I couldn’t attack him or try to fight him, that definitely wouldn’t work. I’m not very strong. I feel sorry for his victim and believe it or not, my sympathy goes out to him too. Someone who could do something as terrible as take away children and do whatever they feel to them and emotionally scar the lives of his victim and their loved ones, deserves not only hate but also pity.

  I’m going to try to sleep now, but it’ll be hard knowing that man and many of his kind are out there somewhere.

  October 2, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  It’s hard to believe but people change as rapidly as the world does. If I had kept you as a diary two years ago, you would have heard about Jimmy. He was the first guy who I was close to and who was a real friend to me. I liked him because other boys always seemed to be in a popularity contest, and he didn’t care about that stuff. He was handsome and everything but he never let it get to his head. Well lately he’s been going to the other side. He has a new walk, new talk, new look—the works! He ignores me, I guess I’m not popular enough for him! He just isn’t the same.

  October 3, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  Some people just weren’t made for certain professions. My computer teacher proved that today. Kids are supposed to go to school to learn new things, vocabulary is one of them, but the words this teacher used! Parents don’t send their kids to school to learn obscenities. Maybe she just had a bad case of P.M.S. but that still doesn’t give her the right to say those words. What are we students suppose to go home and say, “Listen mom I learned a new word!” It’s not right. If she wants us to respect her she has to respect us first. Some kids in my class talked to our homeroom teacher Mr. Sontze about it. As usual he can’t do anything. I don’t think we want to go to the principal. If it gets worse, maybe.

  October 5, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  Today in gym class we watched a video on how girls should protect themselves from rape. These subjects are ones we would never even discuss in public school. Well, that isn’t exactly true—my ex-teacher Mr. Pelka always made sure his students were aware of things like that. He really cared about us and we cared back. I should tell you more about him someday, but I don’t want to get off the subject like I almost always do. We watched the video and I found it hard to believe just how sleazy some men could be. It gave me joy to see the ladies hurt each one of them. Their techniques were really good but I’m not athletic enough to carry out any of them. It’s funny, but in Jamaica I wasn’t even aware of crime. Maybe it’s because I was young or maybe it’s because I came from such a rural area, but it just wasn’t a problem. I’d love to have that state of mind again. I just hope I’m never in a crime situation like my father and brother were in.

  October 6, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  Today my friend Isabelle had a fit in her house. It was because of her mother. She’s never home and she expects Isabelle to stay by herself. Today she was extra late because she was out with her boyfriend. Isabelle was really mad. She called her father and told him she wanted to live with him because her mother only cared about one person—her boyfriend. She was so upset. She was throwing things all over the place and crying. I never saw her like that before. It was really sad to see. I felt bad when I had to leave her all by herself. I hope she and her mother work it out but all mothers are the same. They think that you’re young and shouldn’t have an opinion. It’s really hard to communicate with my parents. They’ll listen to me but that’s about it. They hardly take me seriously and it’s because of my age. It’s like discrimination! If you do speak your mind, you end up getting beaten. The real pain doesn’t come from the belt though, it comes from inside. That’s the worst pain you could ever feel.

  October 7, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  This weekend was spent at home, at my brother’s house and at church. My brothers just moved out recently. They don’t live very far though, about 15 minutes away from the house. Their new house is nice. I like it there. They’re both so funny. One is Dave and the other is Courtney. They’re like twins except they look nothing alike and are a couple years apart. Dave is 23 and Courtney is 25. We don’t communicate much anymore—they’ve got girlfriends and they’re making new lives for themselves. It’s impossible now to have a close relationship with either of them.

  After church today I felt the urge to do something independent. I started walking and found myself heading home. Church and home aren’t too close together so when I did get home I got in trouble with both parents—it’s usually only my mom, but my father didn’t approve either. That’s really embarrassing that they got upset for that! I thought I was more grown than that. I know I am, but they don’t. This whole entry is embarrassing. I’m not a baby, I can’t believe they think that way of me. I only wanted to prove I could do something by myself. Even that is a crime these days in the parents law book. I can’t do anything right these days.

  October 8, 1990

  Dear Janice,

  Today I saw my old teacher, I was talking about the other day. I thought this should be the day I tell you about him. His name is Robert Pelka. He’s a heavy man but that only means there’s more of him to love. There’s just something about him that makes him impossible not to like. He’s warm, caring, loving and everything else that comes with a great human being. He didn’t only teach me academic things like math, English and so on. He taught me how to be open-minded to all kinds of people. He did that by making us empathize with other people, in other words, put ourselves in their place and write about it. I went from being a sister of retarded boy named Victor to being a Jewish girl whose family was taken away from me back in the Hitler days.

  Mr. Pelka made things we’d normally learn about from history books sort of come alive, it’s like you’re there. Those are just some of the things he introduced me to. The things he changed about me are innumerable. The world should know this man. He probably won’t go down in any major history books but if this diary counts as a book of history, he just did.

  October 9, 1990,

  Dear Janice,

  I can’t believe it! I got a 95 on my math test. That’s really good considering I’m taking a ninth grade math course. 9th grade math isn’t that hard, you just have to know certain things before you can solve a problem. That’s about all that happened today. My life is so boring sometimes! I’m so grateful for the little t.v. in my room. I don’t know how people ever lived without it. It’s scary just thinking about it. When I’m stuck inside, it sort of brings me outside to the world. These walls of my room, so close together, form such a small room. I try to brighten it up because when the T.V. is off, there’s nothing else to do but stare at everything and think. I have a big collection of teddy bears. I can only remember where two or three of them came from and some how the rest ended up sitting in my room. I don’t play with them, I just look at them. On the wall above my bed I have what seems to be thousands of posters of my favorite singers. Most of them are guys, so my mother has a problem with them. My room just wouldn’t be complete without them,
but if the day ever came where I had to get rid of them, I’d have to leave the one of Big Daddy Kane. He’s this really sexy rapper that makes my knees go weak when I see him. His poster is larger than all the rest and he has a wall for himself. I wouldn’t change anything in it, but I would change the room itself!

  Someday I hope to even write a movie myself. It’ll be really successful and all my favorite actors and actresses will be in it. I’ll be another Jackie Collins but better. Well a girl can dream, that’s the easy but it’s making it become a reality—that’s the hard part.

  October 10, 1990