pictures and prisms a mixtape

7/28/2019 Pictures and Prisms a Mixtape

1/22

Pictures + Prisms

A Mixtape

By L.A. Lutara

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2/22

So, this thing that you have so graciously decided to open and read (and I hope keep

reading) is one of those rarities that came right out of the blue, slapping me in the face

and demanding that I write it. This happened one morning what must have been about 2

or 3 months ago where I woke up at around 4.30 and unable to go back to sleep, quite

begrudgingly rolled onto my back, reached for my phone under my pillow and opening

up a note began to type. Four hours later I got up, turned on my lap top and continued

to type. I typed for most of that day and for some of the next couple of days that

followed. The result is a series of what I guess you could call "mini-essays" which I had at

first tentatively decided to call "Shapes + Colors" but decided to settle on "Pictures +

Prisms".

I call them "mini" because most of them are not all that long and "essays" because they

are all non-fiction. Snap shots of memories that have made homes in the darkest,

dankest, cob-webbiest recesses of my mind. Things that I hardly if ever think about but

have still shaped me in some sort of significant way or another.

What follows is not the sum of these memories but merely what I've been able to glean

together in the short time it took me to write this.

It is my hope that you enjoy them.

-- L.A. Lutara

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Contents

1. How to Break-Up with Someone (One Last Kiss)

2. Bitch

3. One Closet Afternoon

4. Behind the Berry Bush

5. Bad Stairs!

6. Red Bandana

7. One Friday Afternoon

8. Full House

9. How to Get Dumped (Don't Forget Me)

How to Break-Up with Someone (One Last Kiss)

I broke up with her on the rooftop of Garden City. This was back when Boda Boda was

still 'The Venue', Akon had just released "Belly Dancer" and my favorite song was "I'm

Still in Love With You" by Sean Paul & Sasha.

It was around 9:30 on a warm Thursday evening and we were sitting on the ground

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behind the generator house passing back and forth a stick of weed. We were just shy of

the three month mark and to tell you the truth I was actually getting pretty bored. I

mean don't get me wrong, she was one of the coolest chicks I knew with her green hair,

lower back tattoo and booty shorts and drunk girl-kissing ways but the only real reason I

had dated her in the first place was because everyone kept on telling me that she was

the kind of girl that I shouldn't. She had a reputation for "corrupting" kids like me. And

so like a child who has been told not to touch something because it was hot and it would

burn them, I went ahead and touched it.

Looking back, I'm still not sure whether I got burned or not.

I took a toke...then another...then passed her the bullet sized blunt.

"There's something I need to talk to you about." I told her.

She took the blunt and after taking a toke herself asked me what that was.

I was seventeen and it was my first time breaking up with someone and so I was relying

on all the tinsel town tropes I had picked up over the years.

"I don't think this is working anymore." I said turning to look at her.

Puff, puff, hold it...and breathe...

"Why?"

Huh, I mused to myself, that's actually a pretty good question.

I could be honest but then I didn't want to be mean, not really, and so I decided to give

her a half truth.

"I just feel like we've run our course." I said. "I mean, youre flying off to uni soon, I'm

stuck here with another two years of torture to get through and we both know that

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neither of us believe in the whole long distance thing so...why not end it on a high

note...? Right?"

She was quiet for a moment and then, "Are you sure that's it?"

I shook my head to the roach she was holding out. She shrugged, took one more puff

and put it out.

"What else would there be?" I asked in answer to her question.

"You know I have like one more month left don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But the closer it gets to you leaving the harder it will get to say goodbye.

And so I thought to myself, 'why not avoid all of that?'"

Again, she seemed to take a moment to mull on this.

"You know," she started a moment later, "if you want out because you're getting bored

you just have to say so. I wont get mad. This shit happens."

Always the suspicious type I said nothing; giving her the floor to say whatever she felt

she had to to say.

"I say that because truth is, I was getting bored. I was actually going to break up with

you. You just beat me to it."

I wasn't sure I believed that and so I held my tongue as far as that was concerned.

Instead, I said,

"Ok, now I wish you hadnt put out that blunt. What did you do with it by the way?"

She held up a hand. It was pinced between index and thumb.

"It's right here. You want me to light it again?"

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"Nah, that's ok."

Silence. And not the comfortable kind either.

"So," she began, dragging out the 'ooooo', "what now?" She asked.

Way to break the awkward silence, I thought ruefully, with an awkward question.

I thought for a moment and then, "Ok, so here's an idea; how about one last make out

session? That was never boring, was it?"

She smiled, her eyes becoming slits.

"I actually like that idea."

And so for the next 20 minutes we made out like the couple of horny teenagers we

were.

Afterwards we got up, walked downstairs (my arm home around her waist like it had

been for the past few weeks) and out to the parking lot. She got a special hire, I got a

boda boda and that, as they say, was all that she wrote...

She supposedly makes out with girls now. And pretty ones at that if Instagram is

anything to go by. The story is that I was the last boy she ever kissed. And although I

highly doubt that, for the sake of posterity I say, why the hell not?

Bitch

It was football season. Probably around September, maybe even October but definitely

before Halloween. It wasnt summer anymore but the nip of autumn also hadnt yet

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fallen and so afternoons after school were still spent in shorts and t-shirts playing tackle

football on the warm and cracked asphalt of the street in front of our apartment

building. Bloody knees, bruised ribs and bashed in heads were not uncommon but to us,

they were a rite of passage and just meant that you needed to run faster, needed to

learn how to "burn niggas ankles" better.

My team had just finished playing (I was rocking with three touchdowns and two

interceptions boyeeeee!) and another two were now playing to see who would face us

in the finals. I was standing off to one side alone watching the game when that nigga

popped up. Out of nowhere, coming to stand next to me. Now, although we weren't

what you would exactly call enemies (I was 10 years old after all) Lord knows we sure as

hell didn't like each other.

He was in the 6th grade, which put him at about two years older than me and was both

taller and bigger than me. His was the team we had just thrown to the dogs and so with

muscles tensed, I anticipated trouble.

"Ayo, you know you niggas lucked out right?"

I could smell the sweat on him. I didn't turn nor did I respond.

"An' the way err' body treat you like you some kind of Deon Sanders or some shit like

that? Nigga please. You aint shit."

I still didn't answer.

"You wanna know whachu are? You aint nothin' but a lil' bitch. A pussy...Ass...Bitch. I

know one when I see one and that's whachu are."

At this he poked me in the temple with his index finger.

I was still silent but instinctively my fists began to clench. He noticed and then mockingly

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spat at me,

"Yeah, I see you, Bitch. Come on, prove to me your momma didn't raise you to be one. I

know you want to. Bitch."

When I still didn't react he leaned over and placed his lips close to my ear.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch."

Now, my mother didn't raise no bitch but she didn't raise no fool either. Letting this kid

rile me up for no other reason than he wanted to get a reaction from me would be

stupid. Better just to go home. Forget the game.

And so unclenching my fists I turned and pushed against him as hard as I could. I was

going take off while he was still off balance but at that moment something grabbed a

hold of me and wouldnt let go.

"You need to finish this." this something told me, "Or it will keep on happening." And so

as he stumbled backwards, a surprised look on his face, I lunged after him, tackling him

to the ground. Using all my weight I straddled him and began to lash out with my fists;

aiming for his nose and his eyes, just like I had been taught. I hit him again and again

and again and again. I kept hitting him until finally, a bunch of kids pulled me off of him.

bruised knuckles and a severely messed up and a face made sure that he never

bothered me again.

One Closet Afternoon

I love my cousin Susan. She's by far one of the coolest people I know and one of my

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closest friends. It doesnt really matter that we are 10 years apart, we talk as it's no

more than a few days.

Back when I was 5 and she was 15 however, things werent quite as quaint.

I usually spent Saturdays with Mom, going swimming or to watch a movie or to a fair or

something of the sorts but on that particular day my Mom had to work and because it

was such short notice she was not able to plan for one of my usual sitters and so she got

Susan to watch me.

I have no clue as to what kind of arrangement they made but I'm assuming that at least

some kind of financial compensation was discussed. No matter how much it may have

been however, Susan, God bless her soul, came nowhere near to earning it.

Once my Mom was gone and we were safely alone in the house, instead of watching me

like she was supposed to, Susan popped herself a bowl of pop corn (refusing to give me

any I must add), curled up on the couch with the phone and remote control and told me

to go and play in my room or something.

I'm an only child and so I was used to keeping myself company and so this didn't really

bother me. It was when I got hungry that the problems began. I asked Susan if she could

make me something to eat but all she did was wave me away and tell me to go get

something from the kitchen. Like the child that I was I did and in the process wound up

breaking a plate, causing Susan to coming running into the kitchen. When she saw the

broken plate and the spilled food everywhere she went ballistic, getting one of those

long wooden serving spoons and taking it to me. She then dragged me by the arm,

threw me in the hallway closest and locked me in it- Click, click...click.

I banged and screamed and cried and pleaded but got no answer. I threw myself against

the door, howled, tried to negotiate, begged- still nothing. I banged out the beats of

songs, told knock-knock jokes, faked an asthma attack but to no result. And so I gave up.

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Sat down cross legged in the dark (there was a naked light bulb with a pull string switch

but I didnt bother) and started telling myself stories about a boy locked in a closest by

his evil cousin who was secretly a witch but who finds a secret door in the floor that

takes him to a magical land where he is five feet taller than everyone else.

When Susan finally opened the door I was as cool a flat top and a pair of hammer pants.

I blinked a couple of times, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light and asked her if I

could come out now.

"Of course you can. What am I, a monster?" She said, "But before you do," she

continued, lowering her voice to a near growl, "if you ever tell anyone about this I will

kill you, you hear me?"

The five year old me believed her and so I nodded my head emphatically.

And I never did tell anyone...until now that is.

Behind the Berry Bush

She kissed me at dusk behind the berry bush. Her lips were sweet from the hand fulls of

small red berries we had fed each other in between kisses. We were hidden somewhere

we thought no one would ever think to look for us.

My curfew was dark and although it was already dusk I didn't really care, all I wanted to

do was to kiss and touch and do things I knew my mother would not approve of.

As my teeth bit into the soft, pliable flesh of the berries their bitter-sweet juice

assaulted my mouth, staining my tongue she watched me expectantly and although I

didn't really care for the way they tasted I smiled and told her I liked them. And then,

almost as an after thought I added, "You don't think their poisonous, do you?"

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"Of course not," she assured me. "What do you think I am, and idiot? It's the yellow

ones that are poisonous. The red ones are fine."

I had no choice but to take her word for it.

"I like the way they make you taste." She added a moment later as she leaned in to kiss

me again. I thought this an odd thing to say but I said nothing and just let her kiss me.

And then suddenly, I understood what she meant. With every purse of lips, every flick of

the tongue I could taste berries.

We stayed there like that for some time; kissing, feeding each other berries and

swatting at buzzing mosquitoes as twilight became night.

And then I heard it. Distant at first but as the seconds passed it got louder and louder. It

was my name being called over and over and over again. It was my mother and she

sounded pissed. More than she sounded worried anyway. Pressing a button on my wrist

watch I lit up it's digital face. My heart sank, it was past nine, barely 20 minutes to my

bedtime. I was in a lot of trouble.

"Is that your Mom?"

I nodded a yes.

"You're in trouble aren't you?"

I nodded again.

"What are you going to do?"

I thought about this for a second. Weighed my options. It was either get dragged home

by the ear and face embarrassment and the wrath of my mother or hightail it out of

there, double back and try and make it back to the house before my mom did. I decided

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on the latter.

I got up and dusted myself off.

"Get out of here."

She got up as well. Gripped my hand.

"You better hurry then."

There was my name again. She was getting closer.

She gave me one last hurried kiss.

"Now go."

And without saying goodbye, I took off into the night.

Bad Stairs!

My first memory is of falling down the stairs. They were steep with no landing and

covered with cheap, shit colored carpet.

Although, if I'm to be a hundred percent honest with you, it's not really the fall that I

really remember but what happened afterwards. My mother shooshing and rocking me

until I was quiet then wiping the tears from my cheeks as well as that snot that kids get

when they cry from my nose. Then rubbing the back of my neck and coaxing me into

believing that slapping the third from the bottom stair and admonishing it for making

me fall down it would make it all better.

"Say 'bad stairs'!" my mother instructed, slapping the stair to show me what to do.

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"Bad stairs!" I said mimicking her.

"Say it again!" she commanded, doing it again.

"Bad stairs, bad stairs, bad stairs!" I shouted slapping the stair again and again and

again.

"Good." my Mom said grabbing my coat from the cupboard below the stairs and slipping

me into it.

"Now, let's go and I buy you some crisps."

Red Bandana

Basil loved his hoagies soggy, his music loud and drove his little red datsun like a mad

man. My Mom didn't like us hanging out all that much; thought/ said/ pleaded that I

find friends my own age but the fact is we stayed so far out of town that I never really

got to see anyone from school outside of school and Basil just happened to always be

around.

One of the things I liked about Basil was that he didnt talk to me like other adults did-

as if I was the kid and he was the adult. When I asked him about his tattoos and his

piercings he didnt beat around the bush but told me truth- Life back in the city had

been hard, he had been in a gang. But that was when he was younger. Nothing like what

they talked about on the news but he had seen a couple of cats in his crew get cut.

Basil sagged his FUBU jeans, rocked fresh Air Jordan sneakers and Polo t-shirts that hung

down to his knees and to the pre-pubescent me he was cool as shit. He was the first

person to ever ask me how I felt now that both Biggy AND Pac were gone.

My answer had been a shrug, "I've never actually listened to them so I don't really

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know."

Basil was aghast.

"Nah, nah, nah man, that ends today, you hear me? Youre with Bay now and what Bay

listens to you listen to, aight?"

I hadnt argued.

Basil had this yellow Panasonic G-Shock discman he started lending me from time to

time along with some of his favorite CD's. Wu-Tang, Notorious, Pac, Busta Rhymes, The

Fugees, NWA...I guess you could say that my love for hip-hop can be traced back to that

yellow discman. White boy or not, that dude knew his music.

We used to take drives to nowhere. We would use them to talk and to play music really,

really loud.

"There's just something about listening to Biggy super turnt up man. You can feel that

shit in your bones- nah mean?"

One day, as we drove past the skating rink where I had my last birthday party Basil

reached into one of his back pockets and pulled out a folded red bandana.

"Ayo, I got you something." he said and tossed it in my general direction. I grabbed it in

mid air. It had that stiff, new bandana feel when I rubbed it between my fingers- he had

bought it.

"It's all good." he said before I got a chance to say thank you.

"Now we just have to shave that head of yours." he said reaching over and patting the

head in question. White neighborhood meant very few (read NO) black barber shops

and so my hair was a nappy mess.

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"We gots to take this off." he added.

"How off?" I asked him.

"Michael Jordan off."

I thought about this for a second. It was the last week of school, it was hot as hell and I

had never tried it before so I thought what the hell, you only live once.

"Cool. Let's do it."

*

It had been a while since I had heard the buzz of a hair clipper and hearing it sort of gave

me a little jolt of excitement. Bay took the thing to the furry animal on my head, taking

it down as low as the clipper would allow. Then out came the shaving cream and the

straight razor.

"You need to sit very, very still OK? I don't want to cut off your ear or something, you

heard? And don't nod your head, say it."

Whenever Basil got serious he would drop the ebonics and be real. Especially when he

talked about life and death and God and things like that.

"I hear you." I said, consciously making sure not to nod my head.

"Good. Now let's get to work."

It was like the first time a man has sex, over before you even knew it began. Basil

washed off the remaining shaving cream, dried my head, rubbed in some kind of oil (to

make it shine baby) and then handed me a mirror.

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I...Was...Bald.

I ran my fingers from my forehead back to the nape of my neck. It felt weird, like I was

touching some sort of alien and not my own head.

"So what do you think?"

"I...I like it." I said after a moment.

"Only one thing left homie. Bandana?"

I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. He took it and folding it just right tied

it around my head. Bay took a step back to examine me.

"Uh-huh, now that's wass up."

I took another peek at myself in the mirror;

Yes...It...Was.

One Friday Afternoon

I was pretty young when I found out how the bare skin of a girl's inner thigh felt. Much,

much younger than what would ever be considered appropriate, that's for sure. Her

name was Cassandra and she was the pastor's daughter. She had long blond hair,

almond shaped, almond colored eyes and was a couple of years older than me which

put her at about seven years old.

The school I attended was run by her father's church and so not only did Cassandra go

there but her much older teacher sister and her teacher sister's Indian teacher husband

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taught there as well. It was not until recently that I realized that everything Cassandra

did was because she was trying to a big girl like her big sister. Including if not especially

things like what happened that Friday afternoon.

Friday afternoons we always stopped class at around midday, lunch time and after

eating spent the afternoon watching a movie until it was time to go home. We would sit

on large blue gymnasium mats with curtains drawn in front of a white washed wall

which was used for the projector. That particular Friday it was Robin Hood. The Disney

one where Robin Hood was a fox and the Sheriff of Nottingham was mangy old lion.

I don't remember much of the movie and I actually don't think I've watched it since but

at some point Cassandra took my hand and slid it up under her ruffled denim skirt. We

were sitting all the way at the back, our backs against the opposite wall, at her

insistence of course, and so no one really noticed. To be quite honest though, I don't

think it felt much different from running my hand up and down my own thigh. Not that I

ever did or ever have. At least I don't think...

Up to now my Mom still sometimes teases me about how Cassandra would drag me

around telling everyone, including her, that she was going to marry me.

I wonder what she's doing now.

Full House

I awoke to the sound of voices; calm, cordial and conversational. They were men's

voices, more than three, possibly five, which was quite odd considering the time. Maybe

Ernie had left the TV on again, (It wouldnt have been the first time that week) and so

half expecting to see the dancing light of the TV jigging along the walls, I pried open my

eyes.

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The house we lived in was a small one with only two doors; the one that led outside and

the one you closed behind you when you went to the bathroom. Naomi and Barbara

slept upstairs with my Mom while I shared a bunk bed with Ernie downstairs, our

bedroom little more than a cubby hole fighting for space with the living room, dining

room and a hobbit sized kitchenette. I slept on the top bunk and when not facing the

wall stared directly at dining room table.

There were five of them; all built like American football players sitting around the table

playing cards. A quick glance told me that they were using the cheap deck with Leo &

Kate on the back. It usually sat on the shelf next to the chrome colored Aiwa stereo my

Mom had gotten me for my 12th birthday.

They all appeared to be wearing white robes. The kinds you see in those old pictures

and movies of Jesus. And maybe it was because I was tired or maybe because I was still

somewhere between sleep and waking but the entire table seemed to be glowing. A

pure, whitish kind of glow that was illuminated at a wattage I wasn't sure existed. I tried

to trace the source of the light but couldn't seem to find it. But then after I moment I

realized that I was looking for the wrong thing. After a moment I realized that the light

was coming from them. The men themselves. There was only one thing that they

reminded me of...

"Ok, now I know I'm dreaming." I told myself.

The room was instantly quiet. All five men turned to look at me.

Crap, I must have said that out loud.

"I believe we have been found out." One of the men said, speaking for all of them. His

voice was a rich baritone, his skin a polished mahogany, his teeth and eyes a flawless

mother of pearl.

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"His gaze pierces...doesn't pass through, I believe he does." Says another. His features I

couldn't quite make out. In fact, it was the same with the rest of them as well. I knew

that they were there, could see them but then whenever I would try to zero in on any of

them, they would become indistinguishable from one another. All save for the one that

had spoken first. Him it was like I had known my entire life. From where, I couldn't tell

you but there was definitely something familiar about him.

"There's no reason to be afraid." He said. "We've got your back. All of you. Now go back

to sleep."

As soon as the words left his lips and landed on my ears I could feel my eyes begin to

close. I tried to fight it but it was of no use. I was asleep in moments.

How to Get Dumped (Don't Forget Me)

She broke up with me on a hill overlooking the city. We were sitting on a blanket in the

grass eating sandwiches, nipping at apple tart biscuits and sipping on non-alcoholic

champagne. It was a spot that would have taken most people a while to find but with

me and my penchant for messing up directions, it was almost two hours before I found

it.

Once I did get there though, I quickly unpacked a bag full of apologies clutching at a

hankie drenched with sweat, admonishing myself so that she wouldnt have to.

The size of the fuss she made was almost negligible (which was kind of unlike her) and

then urging me to sit down she told me to let her get me something to drink, it was

really, really hot and I looked like I needed it. Like always, I obeyed but cautiously.

As we sat there we made half-hearted halting attempts at conversation; something that

was alien to us and although she tried her best to hide it but it wasnt too hard to guess

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what was coming.

She was leaving for Nairobi in a few weeks, maybe for good. Uni beckoned, home (her

real home) beckoned. She was half Kenyan and up to that point had divided her time

pretty much evenly between Kampala and Nairobi. Now, though, she was thinking of

relocating. Of course she would come and visit her brother from time to time but those

visits would be short and infrequent at best. And so considering this and the fact that

the next few years would see me in uni here and neither of us believed in the whole

long distance there was really only one thing to do.

I took a sip of the champagne.

I could see the sense in that, I really could. I may not have liked it but I could definitely

see the sense in it. It bugged me though, her being the sensible one of the two of us. I

was used to being the sensible one. In our case though, she was the rational, way too

forward looking half of us.

"I have something for you." she said reaching into the basket.

What she pulled out was wrapped and oblong in shape. What it was beat. She held it

out for me to take. I took it, cautiously.

"Open it." She said, almost as cautiously.

Not seeing much point in not, I did.

"huh." I'm pretty sure my expression said. I don't know what I was expecting but it

certainly wasn't that.

And what that was, was a small carved wooden elephant; it's trunk raised in trumpet.

"Or maybe in goodbye" I found myself musing silently.

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Turning it over in my hands a couple of times, I looked down at the elephant for several

moments without saying anything. Barbar the corduroy suited elephant was the first

thing that came to mind.

When I looked up she was inspecting me intently.

"Do you like it?" she asked hopefully. "A friend of mine made it. It sort of says

everything I want to say without me actually having to say it."

"And what's that?" I asked, walking it across the landscape of our blanket.

"Guess." she said tracking the Barbar's progress closely.

She always did that. Looked for any excuse to make me "use that beautiful mind" of

mine. And so I did and, lo and behold, got it within moments. Which is not really saying

much mind you since it wasn't really all that hard to get in the first place.

"Well?" she prompted, taking a sip from her plastic flute of fake bubbly.

"Elephants never forget." I mumbled rather woodenly. How trite.

"And neither will I." she said after a moment. "I hope you wont either."

She paused, as if waiting for me to affirm this.

"Of course I won't" I said way too quickly.

Just like when I said, "Of course I do." when she had asked, "You love me don't you?" a

few months earlier.

But the truth is I did. I have. I barely think of her at all anymore. And I'm pretty sure that

it's the same for her. Life goes on. That's just the nature of things.

We spent the rest of our time together joking around as if we hadn't just broken up, as if

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she hadn't just dumped me.

Once we had emptied the bottle of non alcoholic bubbly (I would have given anything to

have at least a little stagger in my step at that moment) I took the bottle and we took

turns throwing it against a boulder the size of a small couch to see who would break it

first. I threw it as lightly as possible without making it look like it so that she would be

the one to break it. She got it on the third try.

She was ecstatic and hugged me and was about to kiss me when she remembered that

"Oh, yeah, this guy's not really my boyfriend anymore."

One word, two syllables...Awkward.

Always the neat freak ex-girlfy tried to insist on cleaning up the broken glass but

grabbing her by the hand I told her to leave it and then hand in hand (not as awkward) I

walked her back to her place which was nearby.

The goodbye was a hug and the double cheek kiss that she gave everyone.

Huh, It really was over.

Flagging down the first boda boda I saw I put as much dust between me and what had

just happened as possible.

The End

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