Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

Emotional Rollercoaster


In March 1984 my mother had gotten pregnant with my little brother; even though I wanted a little sister I was still excited about that. At this time she was making preparations to start studying Law. My father went to Jamaica for a while, and came back with new tracks by the Barrett Brothers that he was excited about. Then he told Junia that he wanted to build a studio in the back of our property. Not to my knowledge, at the time my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was around august; I was getting ready to be eight years old come November. My father usually had to travel every couple months, but he was on bed rest in our living room, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him rest before that. He was always on the go, but at the time I didn’t know what was going on. People would still come by a visit as usual. A girl name Judy was helping to take care of my father while he was sick, she was a good friend of the family, my mother took her under her wing, because she was in nursing and the medical field.

One day he ended up going to the hospital, and I didn’t know why. When we visited him he asked me was I taking care of the house as the man of the house while he was gone. I told him yes, and he told me he will be home soon “Mi soon come home Jabula hold tight”. Then he told me he loved me and I couldn’t wait for him to come home. My father was Rastafarian so he wouldn’t co-operate with the doctors or the treatment that they were offering him, he refused to cut his dreads and everything. The dreads of a Rastafarian represents the lion of Judah, he wasn’t willing to compromise at all. That night I decided to sleep with my mother, I usually slept in her bed with her if my father was out of town or on tour.

The next morning the phone rang at 5 am, my mother answered, and I’ll never forget the look on her face, tears flooded her eyes and she was yelling “How!” and “When!” I always hated to see my mom cry, she hung up the phone and told me that my father died this morning. I couldn’t believe it, I’ve always heard about death, but never experience it until then. I just cried out of disbelief “I would never see daddy again” I asked and we just cried uncontrollably. I kept thinking how fine he was when I saw him last, but I later learned that was apart of his personality, he’d never let you see him sweat. He would not show his pain, what was sadder is that he died November 14th 12 days after my birthday on the 2nd. Keith Hudson Jr. my brother was due in December, so mom would end up having the baby alone.

The funeral Day came, the service was held at Arlington Funeral Home at 83-15 Parson Blvd at Grand Central Parkway. The place was so crowded. I drew a picture from one of my father’s album covers; I remember being so frustrated trying to draw it because to me it wasn’t coming out right. But eventually I got it right, and I put it in his casket before they buried him. Junia came out to stay with us. To keep the label going, he re-pressed some Rasta Communication albums to bring in some money. Junia was the only person my mother could trust, and she knew my father trusted him. He brought his son’s out too, Dwayne and Damion. Dwayne went to P.S. 95 with me because he was a year older, and Damion went to I.S.238 Jr. High school because he was a little older than us. We were all into He-Man so I had someone to play with, we would play for hours. They brought us bunk beds so they slept in my room.

I remember when my mother went to the hospital because she went into labor. I still had to go to school in the morning. I usually stopped at Bobbito’s, the corner bodega to buy candy and chips. This time I bought some bubble yum gum, and I had five dollars, so I paid for the gum which was fifty cents. Instead of getting back $4.50 I got back $19.50, I left the store quickly and ran to school. He probably thought I gave him a $20 dollar bill. After school I went to Mays, it was an old school department store on 169th Jamaica Avenue, and I bought He-man action figures with that money.

Chapter 14

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Chapter Fourteen

The difference 30 days can make

On my way home I dreaded being back on that long ass flight. I finally got to JFK airport, and I was just happy to smell the stench of the Big Apple. I noticed everybody’s rides were there but mine wasn’t. A couple of people offered to take me home, but I passed and told them that my mom was coming to get me. I decided to call the house to make sure she already left to come get me, and Sky picked up the phone. I told him I was at the airport, and he told me to just catch a cab. He said he’d take care of it once I got there. I went to baggage claim, found my bag and caught a cab home. When I arrived home, there were a lot of people there, friends and family I hadn’t seen in a while. It looked like a welcome home party of some sort. I went in and put my bags down and to my surprise I didn’t see my mom. So I assumed she had to be at work. I called her at work to let her know I was back, but the lady said that Mrs. Hudson did not come in today. I asked people “where’s mommy” and everybody started turning their faces. I looked at my little brother and he seemed clueless. I was standing at the top of our 19 stairs to our house, and Sky stood in front of me and started breaking down crying saying “Jabula your mother had died”. I was shocked at the words, I said “what did you say” And he uttered the words again. “Your mother had died right before you got home” I don’t know what came over me, but I grab the railing of the staircase and ripped it out on the wall with one hand. I was furious, people tried to hug me but I didn’t want to be touched. “How could she just die on me” and I was furious with God “How can you just take her from me like that, I have nobody now” I didn’t believe it and I refused to believe it. “I need to see her now” I demanded.

So Sky, myself, and this guy named Squiddly drove to the hospital. When I got there I saw her just laying there with her eye’s close, I rubbed her skin and it was so hard. It didn’t feel like her, I said “mommy please wake up”. I was in denial, and it wasn’t registering in my mind. I went out to the hallway, I had to get out of there. That night I was scared to sleep I was scared of having a nightmare about the nightmare I was now living. Everybody told me their versions of what happened.

Jabula' s Happiness Autobiography book

Chapter Thirteen

The Motherland

My mother took me to JFK airport. I had a backpack and one piece of luggage and I met up with the group I was going with. Mom gave me $400 for the trip. The flight was mad long like fifteen hours or so, with three different flight changes. I sat next to this girl I was digging that was in our group, and we shared my walk man. Looking back in retrospect, if somebody had taped this trip it would have made a hell of a reality show like Real World or something. Every guy was looking for who they were going to hook up with for the four weeks we were going to be there. We went through customs and had to pay for a 30 day visa, it only cost me $30, I got it before we left JFK airport. Africa was cool, it was different but not that different. It wasn’t as primitive as people would like you to think. It was pretty modern.

We stayed at a college campus dormitory and we had to pick our roommates, of course I wanted to roommate with my new lady friend. But the adult supervisors weren’t having that under their watch. So I shared a room with this other kid. I cant remember his name for some reason, but he wasn’t that bad to room with. He was feeling that same girl I was talking to, but he was talking to this other girl on the trip that was feeling me. So we would sneak to their rooms late, or they would sneak to ours, and we’d be up all night acting silly. During the days we would take a class about African culture for a couple hours, and then the rest of the day would be ours. I wasn’t accustomed to the food there. I’m a visual person, and to me the food didn’t look too appetizing. I would go to this place they called the government store; they sold crackers, cookies, sodas, and that kind of stuff. For that whole trip I didn’t really eat anything real, just junk food and snacks. The only thing I did eat if we went to a restaurant was the French fries. We had to switch our money to their currency out there. I remembered only having to switch like $20 or $30 that gave me a lot of money worth in their currency.

We would go into town, and buy little things, go hiking, and interact with natives. If we needed to use the phones we had to go kind of far. It was to the point where they had to schedule time to go somewhere where we could call home. I spoke to my mom and she was excited for me, she said she was doing okay and that she missed me. My little brother came back home to New York from California, so they were spending time together. Things were good the first week and a half, but after that people on the trip were acting funny. There was a lot of he said, she said bullshit with people talking behind your back. Needless to say I was ready to go back home. It was always hot and the funny thing was, I seen more white people in Africa than I’ve ever seen in my life.

When we would be in town some people were nice to us, but some acted like we were traitors because we were from America. They would talk down on the fact that some of the girls with us on the trip wore make up and permed their hair. It was a little weird to experience that, but I learned that nigga’s will be nigga’s no matter where you go or where you’re from. We tear each other down in the U.S. and I’m in the motherland and the same shit is going on. I was really ready to go at that point. By this time I was in my third week, and I pretty much kept to myself. I was tired, I needed a haircut and I didn’t get to speak to my mom much the last time I called she wasn’t home. I got a chance to call and this time she was there, we spoke for a short while and she told me she was all right. She was getting ready to go to the Virgin Island for a vacation for a couple of days, and she’d be back before I got home. The last thing we said to each other was I love you.

Now I’m in the last week, and we were each scheduled to stay at a native’s house for the week, to really live the lifestyle. We all met with different families, and this one girl in particular decided to pick me. She was a little older than I was, but she was cute. Her choosing me made my day, and all the guys were jealous. I’m sad that I can’t remember her and her family’s names, because they treated me so nice. They did everything to make me comfortable, like renting videos for me to watch movies. I still didn’t agree with the food so I didn’t really eat, but they still tried to get me things that I would like, and I appreciated it so much.