No one knew what I had said, but they did know that it was not Crip talk. They all broke into smiles—Tamu, Kendis, Kershaun, and Kerwin.
I tried to explain to them the new path I was taking but it was hard to communicate it all because I was still learning myself.
Kendis seemed the most disturbed by the changes I had made, and I knew it was up to me to better articulate them. My siblings had always paired off in twos: Kevin and Kim got along best and usually stuck together; Kerwin and Kendis were coconspirators; and Shaun and I were comrades. Never had the six of us gone anywhere together or all gotten along at the same time. Kim went on to join the Air Force and Kevin moved away, seldom to be seen. Kerwin got a job and spied on us for Mom, and Kendis, while trying to remain neutral, leaned hard toward Kerwin and really didn’t get along too well with anyone. And Shaun and I were looked upon with dismay by all. Now, here I was, back in the ruins of my family, trying to explain my new path, but somehow not getting it across. Kendis kept cutting her eyes to Kerwin and he kept sighing. Tamu just looked at me and Shaun seemed to be thinking about something else. It was clear that Tamu and Shaun were my brightest prospects for conversion.
Over the next hour, the homies started arriving. First came Red and Eric
What up, nigga?!” said Red ecstatically.
“Don’t call me nigga, Red. I’m cool, you know. Glad to be out and all.”
“Right, yeah. Me and E got somethin’ for you, Monsta.”
“Red, I changed my name. It’s Sanyika now.”
“Right,” said Red like he hadn’t even heard my corrections. “Here you go, homie. If you need anything else let us know. We gone.”
He handed me a bunch of bills folded neatly. I didn’t count them, just put them in my pocket and walked Red and Eric to the door.
“Thanks, homie.”
“Righteous. But if you need somethin’ else just page me.”
“All right, brotha.”
When I finally did count the money, I found it was a thousand bucks.
Next came J-Dog, the financier of the ’hood and a stompdown loyalist, though not much of a talker. He called the house from his Blazer out on the street.
“Yo, cuz, I heard you was out. Is it cool if I come on in?”
“Yeah, Dog, come on in.”
Dog was the only New Afrikan I knew with a press and curl. I admired him, though, because he never put nuclear waste in his hair. Dog was cool. Shit, he still wore pork-chop sideburns! He has never denied anyone anything. Like “The Rebirth of Slick” by the comrades from Digable Planets, he was “cool like dat.”
“Eh, yo, what up, Monster?” Dog said in his smooth, cool style. As usual, he had blue rollers in his hair and a sweatsuit on.
“Ain’t nothin’, just coolin’ wit’ my fam ’bam, kickin’ blackness. Oh, and you know I changed my name while I was a prisoner.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, my name is Sanyika now.”
“What is that, Muslim?” asked Dog, genuinely curious.
“No, there is no ‘Muslim’ language. But there is Arabic, that Muslims speak. But my name is Kiswahili.”
“Where is Kiswahili? In Afrika, I know.”
“There is no place called Kiswahili. Kiswahili is a language spoken in East Afrika.”
“That’s deep. And how you say it again?”
“San-yi-ka,” I said slowly, sounding out the syllables.
“What does that mean? I heard all Afrikan names have meanings, you know, say somethin’ ’bout people.”
“Pretty much, which shows the depth of our culture. Sanyika means ’unifier, gatherer of his people.’ “
“Cool. How you say Dog?”
“Mbwa.”
“Naw, that’s too hard. People might not never call me,” he said and grinned bashfully. “Hey, homie, here you go. And if you need somethin’ else, get at me.”
“Oh, wait, wait. Yo, what is this, crack?”
“Yeah, it’s two zones there for you.”
“Dog, I ain’t no drug dealer no mo’, man. I can’t feed my family wit’ this. They can’t wear this or live in this. How much these zones go for now?”
“Oh,” said Dog, looking rather disappointed, “they go fo’ five hundred apiece, but I be givin’ them to the homies for three hundred.”
“Well here,” I said, giving Dog back the two ounces, “let me have six hundred bucks then, ’cause I can’t deal no dope. That’s treason.”
“It’s what?”
“Long story, homie.” I was getting bored and stir-crazy in the house.
“All right, homie, you drive a hard bargain, but I hear what you sayin’. I can respect that. Here you go.” He handed me six hundred dollars.
“Righteous, Dog.”
“Only fo’ you though, cuz. Oh, and Li’l Monster, too. Cuz’ name still Li’l Monster, ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said, getting up to show Dog out, “for right now it is.”
When I went back into the living room, Whiteboy Eric was there.
“Get yo’ coat on,” said Whiteboy.
“Fo’ what?”
“So I can take you shoppin’ fo’ some new clothes and shit. Come on.”
“He ain’t goin’ nowhere, he just got here,” complained Tamu.
“Yeah, bro, she’s right,” I said, happy that Tamu had saved me.
“Well,” said Whiteboy, digging into his pocket, “here, then. But I’ll be back tomorrow to get you, nigg—”
“Don’t call me that,” I said with my head down, eyes closed, and hands raised.
“What, nigga?”
“Yeah, that’s disrespectin’ me, brotha.”
“Oh, well excuse me,” Whiteboy said with a feigned look of dismay.
“It’s all right
Everyone looked at one another. They knew that although I had changed my name and reconnected to reality, the ‘Monster’ still lay dormant.
“Here you go, homes.” He handed me the crumpled bills.
“Thank you, E, and I’ll be here tomorrow when you swing by, huh?”
“All right then. Watch yourself, too.”
“I will.”
I closed the door and leaned on it in an exaggeration of exhaustion and told Tamu I’d be ready to go in a minute. I now had $2,100. I gave Shaun $900 of that as he tried to explain what was happening in the ’hood. We had gotten off to ourselves in the back room.
“It’s the dope, man, it has tore the ’hood up. Check this out, there are some homies who got a grip from slangin’, but they don’t come around ’cause they think the homies who ain’t got nothin’ gonna jack ’em. And the homies who ain’t got nothin’ feel like those who do got a grip have left them behind. So there is a lot of backbiting, snitchin’, and animosity around here now.”
“What happened with Crazy De?”
“Poor De, you know he was having big money, right?”
“Yeah, I heard that.”
“He tried to wait for you, bro. Said he was gonna make it right for you when you came home. Had a car and everything for you. But De wasn’t like the others. He cared about the homies and put a lot of the li’l homies down with crack and straps. He got caught up in some bullshit and was gaffled for two hot ones. I miss cuz, too.”
“Yeah, I heard about the murders. Two girls, wasn’t it?”
