Gangsta Rap

by Benjamin Zephaniah

  ‘What you wanna know for? You can’t have any of my money,’ said Ray.

  ‘Don’t joke,’ said Prem seriously. ‘DJ Rapcity is playing at the Rex tonight, let’s go. Seven pounds in before midnight.’

  ‘I got seven,’ Ray said.

  ‘I got seven,’ Tyrone said.

  ‘And I’m not going,’ Marga Man said. ‘You just be careful, don’t go getting yourselves permanently excluded from there. When dem guys exclude you it hurt, yeah man, it hurts bad me a tell you. Have you ever been excluded at de end of a boot?’

  After killing some time in the burger bar Marga Man left for home and the boys headed towards the club. It was early but Prem insisted that an early arrival would be to their advantage. He had a plan. Before the club opened they circled it and identified a suitable exit door. They waited for the club to open, and Prem paid his money to get in. Ray and Tyrone waited outside, and as the club began to fill up Prem made his way to the exit door. Ray and Tyrone had waited for almost an hour and they were beginning to get impatient, but when Prem could see no security staff he lifted the bar that opened the door. Ray and Tyrone were relieved to see the door open, but as it opened, a loud, piercing alarm went off.

  ‘Hurry up,’ said Prem. ‘Stay low.’

  They entered quickly, staying as low as they could. Fortunately the club goers around them were willing to turn a blind eye, and although it took less than a minute for security guards to arrive, when they did so the boys had disappeared into the crowd. All Ray and Tyrone had to do now was avoid any contact with security staff because, unlike people who had paid their entrance fee, they had no ink stamp on the back of their hands.

  Once they had found a corner to rest, Ray had a go at Prem. ‘You didn’t say there was an alarm on the door.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Prem replied. ‘There wasn’t one the last time I did it.’

  ‘You did it before?’ Tyrone asked.

  Prem laughed. ‘Loads of times. Why pay for three people when you can pay for one?’

  ‘The bouncers here are massive, did you see them?’ Ray held his hands apart to emphasise width. ‘If they get you they kill you.’

  ‘No, they don’t,’ said Tyrone, scanning the dance floor. ‘They only kill you if you try to kill them, normally they just slap you up a bit and throw you out. Anyway, let’s circulate.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ray, ‘let’s circulate. I see some bitches that look like they want some training.’

  In fact the girls didn’t need them; the girls were getting on fine without them. They were not amused when the boys pushed their way in front of them to try and impress them with their dancing. Ray had a habit of dancing very close to girls he didn’t know and quite often he was forced to back off when bigger boyfriends arrived on the scene. The boys were among the younger people in the club so without more back-up they were vulnerable to attack, and they knew it. They spent most of their money on non-alcoholic drinks, and left the club without any of them obtaining the phone number of a female. But they’d had a great time and they rapped happily as they made their way home.

  They decided not to meet on Sunday, but as none of them was going to school on Monday the plan was to meet then and move between the park, the shopping centre and the music shop.

  It was half past one. Ray said goodbye to Tyrone and Prem and walked down the street to his house. He unlocked the front door and quietly went up to his bedroom. He put on a CD on low volume and sat on his bed to take his shoes off. But then his father walked in. He was angry, his eyes looked crazed.

  ‘Who do you think you are, coming home this time of the morning like you own the place?’ he shouted.

  ‘OK, keep your head on, you don’t have to shout,’ Ray said, trying to hide how startled he was.

  His father made no effort to keep his voice down and Ray could see how angry he was. ‘Who you talking to like that? Don’t get me mad you know.’

  ‘You’re mad already.’ Ray was pushing his luck – he could smell alcohol.

  His father went over to the CD player and pushed the whole unit off the table, causing an almighty crash. Ray’s mother came to the door.

  ‘What’s going on, Marvin? The noise woke me up.’

  Kori joined her mother in the doorway. She was frightened, she held her mother’s arm tightly.

  As Ray’s father answered he kicked the CDs that had also fallen on the floor. ‘This boy thinks he can speak to me however he likes, and he can’t. That’s what’s going on.’

  Ray jumped up and stood over the electronic mess that was on the floor. ‘Look what he done Mum, and I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Didn’t do anything? He come in here after one o’clock, put on music, answer me back, and him thinks he hasn’t done anything.’

  ‘Shut up! I haven’t done anything, and you’re drunk,’ Ray said, looking down at the mess of his hi-fi as if his world was broken before him.

  But his father was taking no more. He stepped over to Ray and slapped him across the back of his head. ‘Don’t tell me to shut up.’

  ‘I will,’ Ray shouted defiantly. ‘Shut up, you drunk.’

  His father lost his temper completely. He picked up one of the shoes that Ray had just taken off and tried to pull Ray down to the bed to beat him with it, but Ray wasn’t having it. He began to struggle to try and get away but his father struck him with the shoe on his back.

  ‘You can’t beat me any more, I’ll fight you back,’ Ray shouted as he swung a punch towards his father’s stomach.

  His mother stepped in and grabbed his father to try to separate them but they rolled over the bed all hanging on to each other. They were quickly joined by Kori, who grabbed hold of Ray. Kori screamed for them to stop, but they continued grappling. All four rolled off the bed and ended up on the floor. Ray’s father managed to get Ray face down on the floor with his arms behind his back.

  Ray was getting desperate. He twisted and wriggled until he got in position, then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and bit down on his father’s arm. The bite was so hard he felt his teeth tear through his father’s shirt, but it wasn’t enough, and he bit harder. His father screamed and loosened his grip. Ray was now in tears, and his father was vowing to kill him.

  Ray jumped up with Kori still trying to hold him, but he threw her to the ground. As quickly as he could he grabbed his shoes, one from off the bed and one from the floor, and ran down the stairs and outside. He didn’t stop running until he got to the top of the road. Suddenly it was quiet, it was peaceful, but, as he walked, shoes in hand, clothing torn, reality hit him. He had nowhere to go.

  Chapter 3

  Out on the Town

  The night wasn’t cold, but Ray needed light and a roof over his head. For a while he tried to convince himself that the streets made him free, as free as he had felt when he walked out of school, but then it began to get colder and he had no jacket.

  He seriously began to consider what he should do. He thought about going to Tyrone or Prem’s house, but it was so late, and he would also have their parents to deal with. He considered going to Marga Man’s place, but Marga Man lived miles away in Walthamstow, and he wasn’t even sure if he could remember the address. And then he thought about going back home. Home was where he wanted to be, with his CDs, warm in his bed, but his pride wouldn’t let him, so he walked.

  At West Ham Park he climbed over the fence and sat on a bench in the middle of the park. The unfamiliar sound of the night animals made him nervous. Although he knew the park well, he only knew it by day. The park at night was a new world, and he had never experienced such darkness alone. He wasn’t used to being surrounded by sounds he didn’t know. Cars, trains and police sirens didn’t scare him, but the sounds of city foxes moving in hedges kept him on edge, and hedgehogs rustling through leaves on the ground was the sound of the unknown.

  When Ray couldn’t take any more, he left the park and went to Stratford bus station. It was light, there were people there, and a machine
to buy a bar of chocolate. After checking how much money he still had, he came up with an idea, one that would mean him being warm and getting a roof over his head. After a short wait, the N25 night bus arrived. For one pound Ray had a ride right into the heart of London.

  The closer Ray got to central London the busier it got. On Whitechapel Road, market traders were already beginning to prepare for the next day, and ambulances were busy ferrying the wounded to hospital. The bus had to stop for five minutes at Aldgate East while two car drivers took their road rage out on each other, and then for another five as the police arrested them both, along with a passer-by who tried to convince the police that their employer was the devil and that they should go to hell.

  By the time Ray arrived at Oxford Circus the bus was packed. He had been to the West End many times before, and he had been there at night, but never at this time of the morning, and never alone. He walked down Regent Street to Piccadilly Circus; it was an uneventful walk, nobody looked at him twice. At Piccadilly Circus he spent a few minutes being dazzled by the lights before he sat down under the statue of Eros to watch buskers playing West African music. As he sat watching and listening, a man who reminded him of his father came and sat next to him.

  ‘Hey, you wanna earn some money, youth man?’ he said, looking Ray up and down like a piece of merchandise.

  ‘Doing what?’ Ray replied.

  ‘That all depends how far you wanna go, youth man. If you wanna earn a bit sticking cards in phone boxes, I can set that up, you wanna do deliveries, I can work that for you, and if you want some serious shit, and I’m talking about serious money, money for the bank, I can get you some modelling work, you know what I’m saying?’

  Ray looked away from him. ‘No.’

  ‘Hey man, don’t be like that. Ask me about the possibilities or career prospects.’

  ‘I said no, guy, now leave me.’

  The stranger spoke with excitement as he tried to keep his voice low. ‘Listen, youth man, I know all the right people, I know people who could set you up nicely if you need help. Do you have somewhere to stay?’

  Ray stood up and shouted, ‘What’s wrong with you? I told you to leave me alone. Don’t get me vex, just move from me, right.’

  The stranger stood up and two men who had heard Ray began to laugh. They moved towards them. One of them put his arm around the shoulder of the stranger.

  ‘Are you still at it, Midnight?’ he giggled. ‘Still trying to lead the young and beautiful to the promised land?’

  ‘Hey, Midnight,’ the other man added. ‘If you wasn’t so ugly you could sell yourself.’ They all began to walk off in the direction of Leicester Square and the man with his arm around Midnight looked back and shouted, ‘Don’t worry mate, he’s just working overtime.’

  Ray had had enough, but to his relief daylight was beginning to show. As the road cleaners and refuse collectors began to prepare the streets for the day shift he took a slow walk back down Regent Street, and there he boarded the very same bus that had brought him in. He was in desperate need of some sleep and kept nodding off, but the jerks of the ride and the stopping and starting of the bus just about kept him awake enough for him to be aware of where he was on the journey. Back at Stratford station he searched his head for more ideas but by now even his mind was tired. He sat on a bench and eventually fell asleep, his head bowed.

  * * *

  It was a strange sleep. One part of his brain seemed to be sleeping whilst the other was aware of the build-up of passengers around him. He could hear the buses arriving more frequently, and he began to feel the sun as it warmed the air.

  The waking-up process was a slow one. First, without moving his body, he switched on his mind. When he felt that his mind was strong enough to control his body, he shook his head, then he raised his shoulders and moved them in a circular motion. He clenched and opened his fists, which were placed between his legs, and took his feet from under him and stretched them forward. Then he lifted his head as far back as he could until he was looking up at the bus shelter. Breathing in deeply, he moved his head from side to side and stood up.

  He had only slept for just over an hour but the station was now a different place. Even at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning it was lively. Ray went to the newsstand, bought a packet of biscuits and began walking once again. This time he headed for Tyrone’s house, which was just a couple of streets away from his own. To kill as much time as possible he walked slowly, stopping to look in the windows of as many shops as he could and watching people much more than he usually would.

  * * *

  Tyrone’s father didn’t like Ray – he thought that Ray was the bad influence who was leading Tyrone astray. So when he opened his front door to find Ray standing there, he wasn’t happy.

  ‘What you want?’

  ‘Could I speak to Tyrone please?’ Ray didn’t like Tyrone’s father either, so this was as polite as he could get.

  ‘Wait there,’ Tyrone’s father said, closing the door.

  Ray was left standing on the step, but this was what always happened when he called for Tyrone. Ray had been inside the house in the past, but only when Tyrone’s parents weren’t there. When Tyrone opened the door, Ray could see that he had just woken up. All he was wearing was shorts and a vest and he was still rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Ray, how come you get up so early? We said we’d meet up on Monday?’ As Tyrone spoke he realised that something wasn’t right. ‘What’s up? You look rough.’

  ‘Got kicked out.’

  ‘What, your parents kicked you out again?’

  ‘No, he didn’t kick me out again, I got into a fight with him and I left. The man come mash up me CD player, and throw all me CDs on the floor.’

  ‘What if he calls the police?’ Tyrone asked.

  ‘Look how many times he’s kicked me out, he’s not gonna call the cops. He’s probably really glad that I’ve gone.’

  Tyrone could feel his own father lurking in the background. He pulled the door behind him until it was almost closed. ‘So what you gonna do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ray replied despondently.

  ‘We got to have a plan, look at the state of you.’

  Ray looked down at his slept-in clothing.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you want to borrow some of my clothes?’ Tyrone asked.

  Ray sounded surprised. ‘No, guy, look how big you is.’

  ‘Well, I got a plan,’ he said. ‘Wait here, I’ll get dressed.’

  Ten minutes later, Tyrone came out. He handed Ray a few biscuits and they began to walk, with Tyrone leading the way. But Ray had to stop him when he turned down the road where Ray lived.

  ‘You mad or what, where you going?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I got a plan. Trust me, you’re safe,’ Tyrone said reassuringly. ‘This is the plan,’ he continued. ‘We get some girl off the street to knock for your sister and get her out here, and then when she comes we can get some stuff for you.’

  As they waited at the top of the road Ray saw Lizette and Thara going to their singing lessons. They were friends of Kori’s so it was easy for them to go to the house and get Kori out on the pretence that they needed to speak to her.

  When Kori saw Ray, she pleaded with him to return home, but Ray and Tyrone pleaded with her in turn to go back to the house and bring some of Ray’s belongings out. They won. Kori went back to the house and filled two carrier bags full of various items of his clothing. She put his lightweight coat under her arm and made her way back. It was easy to bypass their parents, as their mother was watching a cookery programme, and their father was still in bed. Even as Kori handed Ray the bags she continued to plead with him to come home, but Ray had made his mind up.

  ‘Where to now?’ Ray asked Tyrone as Kori left them.

  ‘Marga Man to the rescue,’ Tyrone said, as if announcing the arrival of a super hero.

  When they arrived at the music shop Marga Man was busy serving customers. The boys hovered
around until they had gone, then they started to make their presence felt.

  ‘Marga Man, it’s us. Long time no see,’ Tyrone said.

  Marga Man folded his arms, leaned his head back, and looked down his nose. ‘I never expect to see you guys until tomorrow. So, what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Ray said.

  Marga Man laughed. ‘So how come you look like a wild dog’s been playing wid yu? Yu can’t fool me yu know.’

  Ray realised that there was no way he would be able to hide anything from him. ‘Had a fight with me dad didn’t I, and I left home, that’s it.’

  ‘Fight with yu dad? Left home?’ Marga Man made it all sound so ridiculous. ‘So you’re still fighting? And all right, you left home, but tell me now, do you have anywhere to live?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Ray said.

  Tyrone started thinking practically. ‘Marga Man, let him use the washroom.’

  ‘What washroom?’ Marga Man said. ‘There’s no washroom here, here there is a toilet wid a sink in it, no washroom here.’

  Tyrone saw the funny side of it but didn’t think it was that funny. ‘You know what I mean, he needs to change and wash up.’

  Marga Man nodded in the direction of the toilet.

  It must have been the smallest toilet in Europe, almost impossible to turn in, and changing in it was very much like changing in bed. When it was cold in winter Ray changed in bed, so he was practised, and he managed. When he came out there were customers searching through the racks. Tyrone and Marga Man had smirks on their faces.

  ‘Ray, how come you take so long?’ Tyrone asked, trying to hold back the laughter.

  ‘You try prettying up in there, it’s no changing room you know. There’s no mirrors and no dressing table in there you know,’ Ray said.

  Marga Man fanned the air in front of his nose and grimaced. ‘Hey man, you stink up me toilet.’

  ‘It’s the biscuits,’ Ray replied, rubbing his stomach. ‘It’s like biscuits, chocolate and hamburgers all mixed up, does stuff to your belly man.’

  ‘Ease up,’ Marga Man said quickly. ‘Never mind de details, just open de windows and let in some pollution.’