When Justice Come A-Callin

When Justice Come A-Callin’

formerly Coon Tails

Sharia Kharif

Legalities

Copyright © 2008, 2019 by Sharia Kharif

ISBN: 978-1-257-58220-4

First Printing: 2008

Library of Congress Control Number: 2008900055

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is truly coincidental.

Cover Design and Illustrations by Sharia Kharif

www.indigoreign.com

Also by Sharia Kharif

Tears in the Wind

Coon Tails

Tomorrow’s Sun

Tears in the Wind revised edition

Audio Featuring Sharia Kharif

Live From Kijiji: The Open Mic Sessions

Poetic Vol. II by Kobalt Books

Anthologies

The Univer-Soul Language Vol. I by Cedric Mixon

The Art of Educating with V Diagrams by D. Bob Gowin, Marino C. Alvarez

In memory of all who’ve come before us.

Ichi ta…nawe ta. Nadaji e mandila.

And for Kamau, you are not forgotten.

CONSIDER THIS

…remember me…remember me…

my wishes are forgotten dreams…

memories forced on stars

that mock me…

PLEASED TO MEET CHA

Who am I?  I’m nobody.  The stranger.  Could be your mama, your daddy, sista, brotha, lover, friend.  Could be nobody at all.  I’m the stranger who sees everything ya don’t want me to see.  I’m the stranger who hears all your dirty little secrets.  Still, I’m nobody.  Nothing. Faceless.  Thoughtless.  No feelings to feel with.  No heart to love with.  No hands to hold with.  Or so they say.  Folks say I aint nothing.  Could say I’m invisible, but that aint quite true cuz some folks make it a point to watch you and every little thing you do.  Well…I don’t know if they be watchin you or not cuz I don’t know ya, but they sho be watchin me.

Folks just be standing ‘round waiting and watching, watching and waiting praying I do something wrong so they can bust me up.  Like breathe.  I aint saying I hate them folks.  Aint saying no such a thing.  Can’t hate ‘em all for what some of ‘em done, but I aint got no cause to be all happy when I see ‘em neither.  Try to turn me into no Sambo.  Remember when folks was shuffling across the floor, trippin on the feet they be walkin good on when it’s just us folks around?  Naw…I spose ya don’t. Got they eyes bout to fall up out they head, and be sayin something other Black folks would smack ‘em for, it’s so stupid, just cuz some expert who aint even look like us says that’s what we do.  Make me sick.  Aint ask me.  Who am I?  Well, I guess that’s best cuz I wouldn’t have told ‘em anyway.  Not the truth.  Don’t nobody need to know what all we like, need, and want or they’ll find some way to take that too.  Sho nuff!  What?

Don’t go getting all huffy cuz I say what I feel.  Everyone’s entitled to they own opinion, even if they aint never been more than just an extra pair of hands, a back to cut on, a body to pound on, to rape, to kill all on account of being darker than them from workin under the sun all day every day for 400 years.  Humph.  Then got nerve enough to preach to me bout God and religion, talkin bout they goin to Heaven fo sho cuz they God say so.  Some things just aint forgivable, you ask me…but you aint ask me the same way they aint ask me.  They tellin me they goin to Heaven and I’m the one need to beg forgiveness, since the worst curse in God’s eyes is to be me.  And I aint supposed to feel nothin bout that or say nothin cuz I’m supposed to be invisible, you know?  And I aint God, so I can’t say who goin where and who aint and I know plenty of us folks who aint likely to rest they eyes on no shiny pearly gates unless they got them same gates down below.  And Lord know I can’t put all the blame on them other folks neither.

Them folks couldn’ta took us away if our folks hadn’ta let ‘em.  They was sellin us to them folks like fortunes to fools.  Our own kings sold us for beads and shells and strips of cloth, like that’s all my life is worth.  Sold queens and brothers and sisters and daughters and sons and mamas and daddies and all them warriors, sold everybody til wasn’t nobody left.  Nobody left to learn the stories.  Nobody left to tell the stories.  Nobody left but them kings, then them same folks stole all they money back and put them kings on they ships too.  Wasn’t nobody left to teach me or my people.  …my children…my grandchildren…  Wasn’t nobody left to tell me nothin.  Not bout no Africa.  Not about who we were when we were allowed to stand tall and educated and scholarly, when we were allowed to have names, faces, when we weren’t killed…slaughtered for being what God made us to be, who God made us to be.

Who am I?  I’m the storyteller.  My stories aint of Africa cuz I aint never been there and I come from a long line of strong African people who aint never been there.  My mama wasn’t born there and my babies weren’t born there.  My stories are of America.  This land my people built with their tears and their sweat and too much of their blood.  My home.  They stole us from Africa.  Killed us for trying to leave and go back to the place that used to love us.  Save us.  Then told us to go back, once we got our so-called freedom and tried to kill us again cuz we weren’t leaving fast enough.  Seem like they forgot we aint choose to be here in the first place.  I aint choose to go through this, but I aint leavin.  I aint leavin.  You mad?  Good.  If I’ve made you mad, then I’ve made you think.  Now, I’m gon’ stay right here and tell my stories, and if you don’t like it…tough.  Who are you?

JUST CUZ HE SAY DON’T MAKE IT SO

A Mama bear and her son lived in the Tennessee hills, at the foot of a creek that ran straight through a forest.  On they side, it was all green and pretty like a forest tend to be. On the other side of the trees was a small community of former slaves.  Three or four families, maybe a few cows and chickens.  They were an honest folk trying to make an honest living.  Good, proud people, but maybe I’m biased.  See, my greatgrandaddy Jonah built that village and this story is his.  Mama Bear told Little Bear not to go into the forest, he was too little to understand the ways of the world and just had to take her word for it.  Mama Bear was Little Bear’s mama, and she knew her son maybe more than he knew himself.

Well, Little Bear wasn’t tryin’ to hear that, and he was set on going through them woods.  He’d walk his little bad behind down past the creek and start into the forest.  Every day.  Something on the other side didn’t sound quite right and he was scared to go on.  Now those strange sounds coming from the other side were my people getting the town ready for the Freedme Festival, I think.  Now it was either that or Greatgrandaddy Jonah with one of his womens.  He aint never did say, just wop me upside my head when I ask and tell me to mind my business and pay attention to the story.  I’ma have to tell you the same thing.  Just pay attention to the story. Now, Little Bear went back home and Mama Bear whupped him something good.  Yes she did.  Tore him up and told him again not to go into those woods, said she’d tell his daddy and then he’d be in some real trouble.  Well, Little Bear wasn’t trying to hear that neither.  Far as he knew, his daddy wasn’t ever coming home, so this wasn’t much of a threat.  Next day, he took his little bad behind right back through them woods, but stopped short again.  Coulda been the town ladies preparing for the Freedme Festival Pageant, but Greatgrandaddy Jonah aint say.  Little Bear went back home and Mama Bear whupped him harder than she did the last time.  This time, she told him that if he went through those woods again, the Big Black Bear would snatch him up.

Well Little Bear thought about this here and said real careful-like, cuz Mama Bear wasn’t having none of that backtalk, Well, Mama?  I’m a bear aint I?  Mama Bear say, Yeah.  What’s your point?  Well, Little Bear just knew that he was ‘bout to get hit, so he backed up a little.  Well, he say, I’m black too, aint I?  And I’m ‘bout big as you…so I aint ‘fraid of no Big Black Bear.  Yes he did!  Spoke up just as bold as a little bear could to a mama that don’t take no mess.  But he aint get hit.  No, Mama Bear looked at Little Bear and considered smacking him into Wednesday for talking back to her all bold, but she had a better idea.  She smiled.  Smiled and said in her sweetest Mama Bear voice, You sho is getting’ big and I ‘spect you aint ‘fraid…but you aint Black, Lil Bear.  You White and the Big Black Bear know it.  White bears rare round here.  He snatch you up fo sho, and I’ll never see you again.  You don’t believe me, you go call up yo friend Croaky Frog and ax him.

Well, Little Bear did just that.  He went down to the creek and yelled Croaky Frog!  Croaky Frog!  Mama say ax you a question!  Croaky Frog! and Croaky Frog popped right up.  Say ask me what you want, or somethin’ like that.  I wasn’t there, ya know.  I’m just telling the story.  Well, he ax that frog if he was White, and the frog say Sho!  Everybody know that!  You white as snow.  Nothin’ purtier than yo fur, it so white.  And Little Bear went home satisfied that he wasn’t just White, he was pretty.  Well, Mama Bear whupped him good for calling her a lie, but Little Bear didn’t mind cuz he had learned that he was White and therefore better than plain old Black Mama Bear. Next day, he take his little bad behind down to the creek and ax that frog again, Croaky Frog!  How my fur look?  It nice and white aint it?  Again Croaky Frog looked at Little Bear from head to toe, looked him in the eye and lied, You lookin good Little Bear, but your fur so white it blinding me.  Little Bear smiled like all little bears do when they