P.S. Be Eleven Read Online Free PDF Page B

not ooga mooga, Big Ma,” Fern said, which we all knew was Big Ma’s way of saying African. But she also called “Vonetta” and “Delphine” ooga-mooga names because they came from Cecile’s imagination, when only Fern’s name, Afua, was a true ooga-mooga name. I guessed that was why Afua was not on Fern’s birth certificate or school papers. Big Ma had no use for anything African. Pa probably felt the same way.
    â€œIt’s Japanese,” Vonetta said. “And his last name is black. Hirohito Woods.”
    â€œWoods is not a black last name,” I said.
    â€œCharlene Woods in my class is black. Her brother, Delroy Woods, is black.”
    I probably had a “Cecile look” on my face for the times we said things that completely confounded her. I didn’t even know where to begin with Vonetta’s thinking.
    Fern explained Hirohito to Big Ma. “He’s Japaneezy looking and black.”
    Big Ma gave another hmph. “War baby.” Both what she said and how she said it might as well have been street talk that Big Ma or Papa didn’t allow in this house. But how did you correct someone who brought you into the world and held a strap to you?
    â€œHis mother is Japanese and his father is black,” I explained.
    â€œAnd in jail,” Vonetta volunteered. I glared at her.
    â€œJail?” Big Ma was horrified. “That Hurraheeto’s father’s in jail? A mercy, a mercy. Shoulda never let y’all board that plane.”
    â€œHe’s a political prisoner,” I said. “Unjustly incarcerated by the Man.” Now I was speaking like Crazy Kelvin. Crazy Kelvin, the strongest-speaking Black Panther my sisters and I had met at the People’s Center, who was also shown up to be a phony. An infiltrator. Just a plain traitor.
    â€œYou can’t tell me nothing about that war baby’s father. He’s ’bout criminal. Just like the rest of ’em. Nothing but a band of criminals leading good Negroes astray.”
    Fern only heard “war baby” and thought that was a good thing. “War baby!” she said.
    â€œUncle Darnell’s in a war,” Vonetta said. “I’ll bet he has a war baby.”
    â€œOoh!” Fern cried. “I get to dress her.”
    â€œIt could be a boy,” Vonetta said. “We’ll take turns.”
    â€œWill y’all stop this nonsense?” Big Ma said. “Uncle Darnell ain’t bringing no war babies home from Vietnam.”
    â€œShuck corn,” Vonetta said.
    â€œYeah. Shucks.”
    I asked Big Ma for two dollars to buy first-class envelopes, a memo pad, and postage stamps so we could write a proper letter to our mother. And to my pen pal, Hirohito, but I kept that to myself. My sisters walked with me to the candy store around the corner on Fulton. They were more interested in leftover change for Jolly Ranchers candy than in stationery and stamps. When we returned home, I gave them each two pieces of candy and I began my letters.
    Dear Hirohito ,
    How are you? I am fine .
    I didn’t know what else to write or where to send his letter. We said we would write to each other, but I didn’t give him my address in Brooklyn and I forgot to get his address in Oakland.
    I did know what to say to my mother and where to send her letter.
    Dear Cecile ,
    How are you? I am fine .
    I had to write this letter now because I need to know something and you don’t have a telephone .
    Did you love my father? Did he love you? Do you miss my father like he missed you?
    I’m asking because Pa has a lady friend who lives in Brownsville. He told us her name and he takes her out on dates like a teenager when he is our father .
    If you still have feelings for our father, he might forget all about this lady in Brownsville .
    Vonetta, Fern, and I really liked your postcard .
    Yours truly ,
    Delphine
    P.S. Please say hello to everyone for me .
    I received