I ran through the dark estate as I always did. I was on what we called my Ps and Qs. And it didn’t mean ‘please and thank-yous’, which Mum would say to prep mine or Safire’s behaviour when out in public. It denoted being alert, being on your toes or on your guard.
By the time I got down the stairs, making gun signs at the historic portraits of the likes of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X on my way – this demonstrated an appreciation of their contribution to history, and something I had copied from Dad – Dad was in the kitchen.
For some moments I lay there on the bottom bunk trying to ease my stresses out. Dad continued to let his mouth run over and above the reggae drumbeats of Dennis Brown’s ‘Stop the Fussing and Fighting’.