Before I Forget

About the Book

My ancestors went to Guyana, only English country in South America, by boats from different continents. My mother, Indian, father, Negro, ate the forbidden fruit. I was rejected from conception, amidst the hate and confusion. Old enough to walk, I became my older brothers Datson and David’s keeper. They were mute, deaf and later blind; I was their ears, mouth and later eyes Allegedly, curse on my mother from her father for marring a Black man. Nothing stopped me from loving, caring, being proud of them. Bigotry, hatred, ignorance engulfed my childhood in a providently Indian village. We were dehumanized like animals, freaks and slaves. Even the good Madras people of Whim couldn’t stop the horror of being ‘Mixed’. In the house of silence, practicing my vocabulary/hearing on animals. Am an animal lover till today. Was told am Indian, speak, pray in Hindi and Sanskrit, ‘keep away from Blacks; they eat Indian children with curly hair’. After ten, this barefooted Indian found her other ‘half’. Allowed to enter their homes, gravitated and become a runaway. Giant ants, deepwater, dunce cap, ostracized Mommy died, Cinderella abuse stopped when my dearest Uncle Bertram set me free on an elephant - five-dollar bill. Like barnacle, I clamped to the first man in freedom town. He gave me three beautiful children, when nothing left to clamp onto, he forced me to fly without wings. Flew to America, cold, homeless, penniless. A Stranger gave me some silver. I slept under friend’s table, a kind family made me and mine American Citizens. No job was too many. Goodwill perfect for low-maintenance like us. Education and focus, #1 priority I thank/forgive those haters who looked down at me, they gave me the will to rise. I have my David, and, for not eating my young, God blessed me with six grandchildren.

About the Author

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