Afeni Shakur: Evolution of a Revolutionary by Jasmine Guy

Author:Jasmine Guy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

The trees outside my bay window burst with color. It's a warm autumn day. A clean fresh breeze hits my face, and I smell detergent.

"I love when people do laundry. It deodorizes the streets, like a giant stick of Tide incense blowin' in the wind."

Afeni nods. She's reading the paper and only halfway listening to me, but I continue.

"I wish it was gloomy like yesterday and a little colder. With trash blowin' down the sidewalk and the odor of fresh dog doo wafting in the wind. It would be easier to leave New York if it was being ugly. Well, at least the movers are late." I look at the time. "That's one annoying Manhattan trait I will not miss."

Afeni looks up and over my neatly stacked and numbered boxes.

"It's up to sixty-five," I say regarding my last box count. Can you believe I have so much stuff?"

She shakes her head. "I can't believe it all fit in this apartment."

"What time does Ebony sing tonight?" I ask. Ebony Jo Ann is a gifted, robust nightclub diva with chocolate skin and a vibrant smile. She is also a longtime friend of Afeni's. "I wish I could go, but I'm tired and sore. I just want to soak in some Epsom salts, pop a few Advil, and go to bed. I'd love a Law and Order marathon tonight."

"I'm leaving around seven. I'm not staying too late because I have an early flight in the morning. I think it leaves around 8, 8:45—something like that." She swigs her Evian like it's a jug of moonshine, but she doesn't resume reading.

"Are you going to be all right?"

I smile at her for knowing how I can get. I'm ready to say goodbye," I assure her. "I may cry a little but that mouse I found scurrying across the carpet last winter kind of helped seal the coffin. Let's say I have closure in leaving this apartment."

"And like I told you, there'll be others."

"Thank you for keepin' me company while I packed. It went by fast with you here."

Afeni rests the empty plastic bottle against the couch and picks up her paper again. "The next time I see you," she states with finality, "we're moving on from this subject right here. I got more to my life than my Panther years."

"I know, Afeni. I know. It is just that a lot happened to you in a concentrated period of time. From nineteen years old to twenty-four you had this accelerated life... just like Pac," I realize out loud.

I make comparisons with Afeni and her son. The eleven months they each spent in prison. The rivalry between East Coast and West Coast rappers in Tupac's life and the rivalry between East Coast and West Coast Panthers in Afeni's. They both had sharp minds and quick tongues. They are both socially conscious and politically involved. Tupac is definitely Afeni's son. But this is the first time I realize how young they both were when they were thrust into America's revolutionary arena.

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