gangsta

I caught my first glimpse of the gangsta life on Maryland Ave in Columbus, Ohio on a sunny afternoon when we were canvassing the neighborhood. We had split the street. I was on my own. It was a low-income neighborhood, small houses and apartments separated by barren courtyards and alleys. Not a lot of hope here. A mother opened the door, three kids screaming on the floor inside, clothes strewn all over the place. She comes out, shuts the door behind her. She's holding a plastic glass in her hand. It looks like coke but she smells like whiskey. I think I would drink whiskey in the afternoon if I lived here with no relief. Going from door to door, one kid watching me, telling me who's home, who's not, walking between the allies, two guys come towards me. they are fooling with each other, the baggy trousers, the big coats, the one in front doesn't see me, he's looking back at his friend, and he's going, I'll give it to you, reaching for something in his trousers. His friend sees me, motions at him, he turns his head, sees me, and whatever it was he was reaching for, it's back in the trousers again. "how you doin?" he goes, a smile, gold plated teeth.

We worked some tough neighborhoods. Two of my friends had to to leave their turf because of a triple homicide right down the street, while they were there. The "birds" were out, (i.e. the helicopters), massive police activity and they were gone. Others heard gunshots on their turf in the daylight hours. I know I heard gunshots at night. Definitely a glimpse in to a life that I have no real experience with nor knowledge of. A life of complete injustice, and nope, not a lot of hope.

Barack Obama has his work cut out for him. For sure.