IBO, Brian R. Lundin [the ebook reader .txt] 📗

the museums and navy pier. They took the high-speed elevator to the Sky deck on the 110th floor of the Sears Tower, the tallest building in the country that provided a panoramic view of the city and the lakefront for fifty miles in all directions. Later that evening they had a leisurely dinner on the Odyssey, a luxury boat that cruises the lake a cool wind blew across the cold waters of the lake and they huddled closer together.
Malik had never had a girlfriend, in high school, there were girls he was attracted to, but they never knew it. The next evening invited Askido to dinner where she met Joyce, who prepared her a soul food dinner of red beans and rice. After Askido left, Joyce questioned Malik.
“What’s up big brother?” Joyce said smiling.
“What?” Malik asked.
“She seems nice, you like her?”
“Yes, I do”
“Well, go for it bro.”
“Good night, little matchmaker.”
As Malik lay in his bed and stared out the opened window at the stars in the sky and the lake his thoughts were only on Askido. The next day Malik took Askido on a tour of the Robert Taylor Homes.
“Chicago is such a big city,” said Askido.
“Yes it is. Chicago is the third largest city in the united States and it is a great sports town that supports two baseball teams, a football team or what you would call soccer, a soccer team and a basketball team.”
“Michael Jordan,” Askido said smiling.
“Everybody in the world knows Michael,” Malik responded.
“Housing in my country is bad, but here you got people stacked up on top of each other.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem, too many people packed together like sardines,” Malik says.

Pointing to one of the building that had wire grating on the galleries Malik said, “They placed on grates to stop people from jumping or falling off the balconies and people would throw all kinda stuff of the balconies at the police or CHA officials. This place lace is terrible.”
As they walked, Malik told Askido about his mother and brothers and his life as a gang member and drug dealer.
“How did you get involved with the gangs? I find it interesting that a Harvard graduate will still have an affiliation with gangs,” Askido said.
Malik had to think a minute before answering.
“Growing up in this place you don’t really have a choice, it is either be a gang member or risk getting beat up every day. In the projects, gangs are a fact. Gangs in Chicago can be traced back to the late 1960’s, when black gangs were at their height. The Blackstone Rangers were, during that time, the biggest gang on the southside, with members numbering in the hundred. There were daily confrontations between them and other smaller gangs and the shootouts left many innocent people and gang members dead. The situation got so bad that many residents and businessmen in the neighborhood fled. At first the gangs were mainly involved in extortion, drugs was not a big deal because most of the drugs were controlled by the Italian gangsters. A lot was going on the 1960’s, Martin Luther King and the civil rights was active everywhere. Equal rights were the rallying cry of the movement. Equal rights in school, in housing, in education, but in reality, there were no equal rights. The black schools were as bad as ever and kicking kids as young as sixteen out. There were no decent jobs and so all these kids just hung out on the streets, doing nothing. The police started an intense enforcement towards the gangs. Standing on the corner could get you locked up. Many police officers would put a knife on you or plant some drugs and off to the penitentiary you went, guilty or not. There were neighborhoods a black better not move into. The white people would burn crosses on their lawn; break out their windows and just harass the people so much they moved out. I got into the State Street Boys because my two older brothers were members plus it was a way to get some money. The gang became my family, they protected me and I was accepted. It was a way to survive, to have respect and like I said a way to get some money. I wasn’t about to flip burgers at a Mc for $5.00 an hour.”
Suddenly, a very thin young girl who appears to be about sixteen staggered towards them, patches of her hair was missing on top of her head. She was wearing dirty daisy dukes shorts and a low cut dirty blouse, although her breast was not developed enough to have any cleverage, approached them.
“Malik, whatsup? The young woman said weaving.
“I’m cool, Annie, how you doing?” Malik answered as they continued to walk.
“I need a hit, Malik, I’ll give you a blow job and I’ll eat the lining of your lady’s pussy out for only ten bucks,” the young girl said.
“No thanks,” Malik said as they continued to walk.
“How about five?” she says as she pulls down her shorts showing her naked body and inserting her finger into her vagina.
“For another two bucks, you can get some of this good pussy, too,” Annie said still masturbating herself.
“Listen you crack head bitch, get away from us before I bust a cap in your dirty ass,” Malik says in a loud voice while putting his hand in his pocket.
“Fuck you and your funny looking bitch,” the young girl says as she staggered off.
“Wow,” Askido said as they watch the young girl approach a young boy bouncing a basketball.
“Crack heads, they’ll do anything for a rock.” Malik said.
“Some of them give so many blow jobs their jaw muscles start to weaken. Surprisingly most of their johns are white boys, in the city for business or conventions.”
“What you think happened to her hair,” Askido ask.
“Most tricks are afraid to screw these broads, they certainly don’t want to go back home and give some kind of disease to their nice little wives, so they mainly get blow jobs. I’ve heard some of the johns get so carried away as they are pushing their jones into the whore mouth and are holding them by the hair that when they explode they pull out their hair.
“Wow that some deep shit. In my country heroin is the big thing, what is crack? Askido asked.
“Crack is what started the whole thing. Crack is converted powdered cocaine. The cocaine is dissolved in a mixture of water and ammonia or baking soda. The mixture is boiled until it forms a solid substance. The solid is removed from the liquid, dried and then broken into chunks, which are called rocks. It is very addictive and cheap to make, a lot cheaper than powdered cocaine and has a more intense high. I have been told it is better than sex, a whole body orgasm; it is currently the drug of choice especially for young and poor people, because it is so cheap. Powdered cocaine is very expensive and the high is very short, ten or fifteen minutes at the most. A rock can cost as little as ten dollars and the high last for hours, especially if smoked in a “crack pipe.” Most junkies when they take off they just want to nod out; they are too high to bother anybody. However, crack make you want to move, to do something and there is nothing a crack head will not do for a rock. I have seen some crack head broad give head to dogs, it is something,” Malik said sadly.
“Why is there so much violence in your country?”
“Most of the violence in our community is over drugs. Gang warfare is commonly held over turf boundary disputes, the takeover of an area for the sale of drugs, personal rivalries, or simply the fact that the opposing group is different some way. Gang warfare takes a huge toll on cities, families, and especially the community involved.”
As they continue walking Malik pointed out the building, where he grew up and they walked down the fire lane to Taylor House. Taylor House had never been a house or a home but as far back as Malik could remember it had been a picturesque little building with red bricks and stained glass covered with graffiti, mainly gang signs. It was located in the 5300 of State Street next to one of the high-rise buildings. The State Street Boys took over the building and turned it into somewhat of a clinic for unwed mothers and their children. They remodeled the exterior and the interior and had all of the graffiti removed.
Through one of their lawyers, they hired Mrs. Roberta Rollins, a white woman in her sixties as the administrator. Mrs. Rollins and had been there for twenty years and was a registered nurse who specialized in pediatrics and was an outspoken critic of the city’s lack of funding for poor minority pre-natal care and Aid’s prevention. The patients at Taylor house were young mothers, teenagers who mothers were probably teenagers when they were born and did not know their fathers. Malik and Askido entered the building and passed two young girls who were holding babies and smoking. They entered between them, nodded and tried to be polite, but the girls ignored them, continued their conversation and only stared. Inside, there were a dozen young girls sitting in plastic chairs with children swarming at their feet. Young women drifted in, some had babies on their hips and another trailing behind, they filled out forms as their toddlers played under the seats. Some chatted with their friends, other girls from the projects who had walked to the Taylor House because cars were scarce and they were too young to drive. The walls were covered with colorful charts, one showing dark-skinned smiling babies and what they should eat; another listed in large black letters in simple words common ailments of newborns; another cartoon hailed the benefits of condoms Malik and Askido walked over to the young black receptionist.
Malik introduced himself as a businessperson who had grew up in the Robert Taylor Homes and was interested in getting some information about the clinic. The receptionist told him that he could talk with Mrs. Rollins the administrator, but she was with a patient and would be with them in a minute. Malik and Askido stood against a wall a waited. In a few moments he and Askido were waived into Mrs. Rollins office. Mrs. Rollins was having a very serious conversation with a young girl who looked no older than fifteen years old. Mrs. Rollins was holding a baby bottle. The young girl did not have a baby with her but was very pregnant. The walls of her office needed painting and the carpet was worn. After the young girl left Mrs. Rollins invited them to sit down in two old irons back chairs that was in front to her cluttered desk.
“Mrs. Rollins, my name is Malik Johnson and this is my wife Askido.”
Askido gave Malik a look that was not seen by Mrs. Rollins. .
“So you grew up in Robert Taylor?” she said.