Grandma's Gun
This one goes out to;
1. My grandma, I know your turning over in your grave as I type. But this isn't just your story it belongs to our people!
2. My brothers that probably don't know this story.
3. All my friends that buck and fight and struggle through the system/life.
4. All my peeps that want to know more about me.
5. All those that slip but still believe.
I never knew this story until my grandmother passed. I don't write bout grandma. It's taken me years to get over her death in 93. That day my life changed. It hasn't been the same nor will it ever. I need to share this, it is very symbolic.
I'd say this takes place in about '78. Which would make me 4 or 5 at the time thus me having no recollection of the event. My grandma was married to a man that I have heard from various family members, was sheer evil. He terrorized everyone to whom shared time with him. During those days most were afraid of him even men. He was a straight thug.
My mother said of him once (he was not her father and came into her life when she was a teen) one day when she was performing salat (muslim prayer 5x's a day) he went to my grandmother and told her that my mother could not pray in his house any more. He took the door off the hinges of her room at one point. She left soon after his demand. Anyway.
This man beat my grandmother. I can only speculate how badly. One evening he had been beating her and decided to pisol whip her. (I think her experience with this man made her embarrased and withdrawn in her later life) The phone rang. He put down the pistol to answer it. My grandma picked up the gun and shot him dead. Ironically enough this man was from Savannah, GA. The place I rest now. I'm not surprised.
She was taken to jail until it could be proven that it was self defense. I'm not sure how long she was in there. Maybe between 1-3 months. For as hard as I remember grandma my mother told me it was hard for her being behind bars. They kept her in an isolated wing to watch her because they thought she might kill herself. So there she was isolated, in jail having hkilled the man she loved (why, I dn't know). A woman took care of her. Talked to her. Brought her out of her heaviness and sadness. Gave her cigarettes. My grandmother was released.
Fast forward.
My mother told me of the day Assata Shakur escaped from jail my grandma yipped and yelped at the tv in applause and hallelujahs. This was the woman that had taken care of my grandma, Joanne Chesimard. Of whom is still considered a "terrorist".
One day I hope to go to Cuba and meet this woman. I'll ask her if she remembers the fraile woman in jail she nursed before she escaped. I pray to have the opportunity to thank her.
I come from strong women and amazing stories.
ishityounot.
