A 360-Degree Turn: The Art of Being Small But Being Larger Than Expected: The Autobiography of Daoud A. Adamu, Volume I

By Daoud A. Adamu

A pulsating journey through life for a child so young. A startling tale of a boy who fought back when it was least determined that he would do so. He indemnified the pride and fortitude that exemplified manhood, well beyond his age.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483529943

Book preview

Healing."

Chapters

First Hours of Life

A Rude Awakening

Sad Times

A New Beginning

The Mentor

The Big Beast

Innocence Denied

Boy’s Best Friend

The Double Tackle

Unintended Consequences

Bo Winkle, Where’s Rocky?

Young Courage

Heroic Magnanimity

A Happy Day

A Slither of Light

Early School Days

Unlike The Angels

The Inspiration

Mr. Chips

A Positive Solution

Delray

What You Don’t Tell Your Daughters

When Strange Things Happen

Humility’s Lite

Speed and The Demon

The French Syndrome

The Razor

Darkness and The Knight

Beat It!

New Leash On Life

Twice In the Dark

For What?

Double Not Meant

Vendetta

Heads Up

Rt. I86

Translucent

The Hulk?

Honor Is the Game

The Mode of Survival

Mr. Pain’s Ally

Skip-A-Long Kid

The Scope

Four Angels for Life

Word Up Veterans

The Unforeseen

Finally

Spiritually Speaking

The End

Coming Soon

The Old Alexandria Hospital on Princess St. Built in 1917

(Courtesy of the Alexandria, VA Library, Special Collections)

First Hours of Life

I was born in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia in 1961. My first breath of air was taken during the month of August. My mother gave birth to me three months prematurely. I weighed three pounds, fourteen ounces at birth. I was the lightest baby born on record, up to that date. The doctor informed my parents, Your son might not survive his first 24 hours of life. Therefore, my official date of birth remains omitted from the hospital records.

I lived in an incubator for the first three months of my life. My father later informed me that I was so small, that he held me in the palm of his hands. My mother confirmed the fact that they used a shoe box as my resting place for several weeks.

As a child we were poor. Like many before me, I didn’t know it at the time. We lived in the Alexandria Public Housing projects for a short while. At the time, the Alexandria Police Station was located directly across the street from our home. Mother kept the house exceptionally clean and there was always enough food on the table. I discovered many years later that on more than several occasions, my mother sacrificed her portion of the meal so her offspring would have a full stomach.

I have a brother and two sisters who are older than I. At first, we were very close as kids. My father was a part of the household for the first three years of my life. It felt good to be a nuclear family.

A Rude Awakening

My parents had a somewhat turbulent relationship. When I was a young child I recall a commotion coming from below. I descended half way down the stairs and then paused. With great urgency, I looked left through the opening above knee wall. My father rested on his knees before my mother who sat on the living room floor with her back against the wall. As I stood there, I witnessed my father with his hands on both sides of my mother’s face, force her head repeatedly against the wall. It angered me to see tears running down her face. She seemed to be so helpless.

I shouted, Let my momma go! He demanded that I go back up to my room. Again I demanded, Let my momma go, as I descended the lower portion of thee stairs. Once I had reached the living room level, I walked over to my father. I grabbed his left arm. With little effort, he quickly shoved me out of the way with his left hand. I halted my rearward motion, just as I passed the arm rest of the sofa. It faced the double hung clad windows, that rested to the left of the front door. He then threatened to spank my behind. As my mother cried, she requested that I go up to my room. She assured me that she’d be okay.

I stood there for a minute or so. I watched as my father resumed the act of banging my mother’s head against the wall. Again, he demanded that I leave but I would not. He rose to his feet and turned towards me. My mother pleaded with me to return to my room. I slowly turned and walked towards the stairs. I did so rather reluctantly. It stunned me, to witness a situation such as this. It was such a distasteful thing to do. I could not understand why my father would do this to the woman he loved.

Upon reaching the base of the stairs, I placed my right hand on the top edge of the knee wall and turned right. I then placed my right foot on the first step. I glanced over at my parents. With my head lowered, I slowly began to climb the stairs. I paused half way up the stairs. Sadly, I looked through the opening. While crying, mother urged me yet again, Go up stairs, I’ll be okay. Less than vigilantly, did I returned up to my room. For on that very day, something inside of me had awakened that would forever determine the course of my actions.

Sad Times

One afternoon, my mother and father were engaged in another argument. My mother was quite angry. As their words escalated, so did their tempers. It appeared that my parents were going to have another physical confrontation.

My eldest sister Nina immediately ran over to my father and defended my mother’s honor. She struck my father with every fiber of her being. Father pushed Nina away but she kept coming back. He prepared himself to strike my sister; that’s when mother finally struck back. From that day forward, when my father chose to be physically hostile with my mother, she’d have him arrested. From time to time, the police arrived at our front door to quell the hostility and or, to escort him away to keep the peace.

An older gentleman who we called Uncle Donavan, gave my father some good advice. He informed him that it would be wise for him to leave the area and the relationship between he and my mother wasn’t healthy for anyone; that the city had become an unproductive place for him to live. Eventually, my father moved out of the home. A year or so later, my parents completed the divorce proceedings. Mother obtained full custody of my siblings and I.

One day my father stopped by the house in a car that I’d never seen before. My two sisters and I were walking south. We where less than a full block from our home. Father drove towards us from the North. He beeped his horn and waved at us. He then pulled over to the curve and parked his convertible. It faced forward on the left side of the street. I believe it was a red Oldsmobile or a vehicle that resembled one. As we approached the car, my father requested that I inform my brother that he had arrived but not to tell my mother of his presence. I dashed home. There Nathan stood, inside the doorway. I called out to him as he exited the door. He asked, What’s going on? I said, Pop is up the street. He wants to talk to us. Nathan and I, returned to the car and got inside.

My father tried to have a chat with us, but our excitement over his new car, overwhelmed us. We begged him to take us for a ride. He stated, Have a seat, and off we went. He drove south for three blocks and circled back. He parked a block and a half up from the house. He promptly informed us that he was leaving the area and that he would be moving up north. He stated, Your mother and I can’t get along. I’m moving up to Philadelphia. He stated that he loved us; that it was not our fault that they were no longer together, and that he would visit us.

I removed myself from the car. He asked me to return but I declined. My brother grabbed me and pulled me back to the car. Father sat me on his lap. He allowed his feet to rest on the curve of the sidewalk. He assured me that he would come back to visit us and that we could come up and visit him. I rose to my feet. I then walked several feet forward and paused. I slowly turned and looked back at my father. My sad eyes expressed themselves in a way that only a disenfranchised youth could. He called out to me but I turned and walked away.

Somehow, I knew it would be a while before we would see him again. I just simply could not shake that feeling. As I walked towards my home, father dispatched one of my sister’s to retrieve me. Without a warning, I dashed across the street. Father cranked up the car and made a quick U-turn. To my surprise, as I walked forward he allowed the car to roll forward along side the curb, on the wrong side of the street. He then sped up and parked directly in front of our home.

With words of compassion, he persuaded me to return to the car. I rested by leaning up against the rear door. After a few minutes of being consoled, my mood changed. I smiled for a short while as we all said our goodbyes but silently, I cried inside. I knew that things would never be the same for us.

I looked on as he drove down the street and made a U-turn. As he drove past us he waved and paused at the stop sign. Just as he began to turn left onto Oronoco Street, I looked back. I noticed my mother standing quietly in the doorway. She asked, What’s going on? I could not state how I felt. It was like something inside of me died that day. Silently I asked, Why are you leaving us!

I guess, I never forgave him for that. I made him pay a price for his decision to leave us for the rest of his life without ever understanding why, until this very moment, it being January 19th, of 2002. As a child you always desire to have a father figure in the home. In time, I understood that it was better for them to be apart. The strange thing was, that to me, he should have been right there at home with us, always!

"Father, I am sorry for giving you so much hell. I forgive you with all my heart and soul. Pleeeeeease, forgive me.

Most Sincerely,

Your youngest son."

A New Beginning

After my father’s departure, my mother did her best to raise us as a single parent. When she first began to work outside the home, our immediate neighbor who lived directly to the left of us, became our daily caretaker. Her name was Ms. Ralston. She prepared pancakes for us every morning. I loved going over to her house; her pancakes were the very best. I loved sitting in that wooden high chair. It allowed me to sit well above the dinning table. I had an excellent view. Boy, did she know how to lay out a spread. After breakfast, she’d read a book or two to us.

One morning, I awoke ready to go next door. My mother informed me that Ms. Ralston would no longer be my daily caretaker. I didn’t understand why. I always felt safe and secure with her. I immediately dashed out the door. I hastily opened her screen door and continued inside without knocking. I ran into the kitchen, I asked her to place me in the wooden high chair. She looked down at me in a strange puzzled manner. Mother followed me inside. She quickly apologized for my actions. Ms. Ralston informed my mother that she understood; that I could remain in her care for the remainder of the week.

To my surprise, she chose not to place me in the high chair. Instead, she placed me in an adult sized chair. She placed me on a stack of uncomfortable phone books. She no longer prepared those world famous pancakes that I loved so much. The morning meals that she served from that day forward, I did not care for. She read less of those fascinating stories to us as well. By the end of the week, I had lost my desire to return to her home. I must admit, that she had to work a little too hard to prepare those wonderful meals for the six kids, that were in her care.

Yes, I truly missed her. Each day, when I arrived home from my new caretaker, I’d dash into her home. I would greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek. This made her day. For a few weeks, she extended an invitation that allowed me to once again, enjoy those tasty buttery pancakes with Ms. Ralston and her two son’s. We enjoyed each other’s company on that first Saturday morning. We concluded thee invite that following Sunday morning.

Thanks Ms. Ralston for the long lasting visions of your loving care and family values.

Most sincerely with syrupy love,

Your little Pancake.

The Mentor

Ms. Ralston had two sons, Christopher and Jake. Christopher was that older positive male figure that I needed in my life. I looked up to him in every way. He lived a clean and wholesome lifestyle. He was an all around good guy, someone that most adults would like their male offspring to emulate, as their child matured.

They treated their mother with great respect. They would kiss her on the cheek, sometimes at the same time before departing. They would do so again, upon returning home. She would always have a big smile on her face. Christopher treated the females he dated with thee utmost respect. At times, Christopher would sit with me on the front stoop and read me a story or two from a book of my choice. He also introduced me to the game of golf. Jake was funny the one. He had a lively personality. I liked him a lot as well. Jake always kept his lady friends laughing. He loved to crack jokes. He made me laugh often.

I recall one summer day, the three of us were fishing on the banks of the Potomac River in Old Town. We caught multiple catfish and an electric eel. Later that afternoon, we brought them home, cleaned them and then cooked them. I was apprehensive to taste the eel at first. Christopher and Jake convinced me that the eel tasted better than it looked. It tasted quite good. To my surprise, it tasted like sausage.

Later that summer, Christopher arrived at my front door. As I walked out to greet him, he informed me that he’d be going away for a while. He had joined Uncle Sam’s Army. I didn’t see him much after that, although whenever he returned home to visit his mother, he would provide me a few minutes of his time. He’d always bestow me with a big brotherly hug before departing. He always spoke in a tone that was soothing to the ear.

I will always be grateful for Sir Christopher’s demonstration as to how one should always walk with pride and honor. He remains one of the most noble people I’ve ever met. He is a decent image of what a young man should be, as a young adult role model. Not withstanding Jesus Christ of course, my Lord and Savior.

The Big Beast

One morning, my siblings and I were playing inside the house. We were in my mother’s bedroom when the item that we were playing with fell out of the window. My brother asked me to retrieve the item. I dashed down the stairs, opened the front door and rushed outside. I looked to the left, just below the double case front window, as the screen door slipped from my right hand. The door secured itself, as I leaned forward to retrieve the item. The item landed next to a bush, just to the left of the front door.

I yelled up to Nathan, Please open the door? He refused. My brother demanded that I throw the item up to him first, and then he would open the door. I wasn’t able to toss it high enough for him to catch it. Just as the object hit the ground, I looked to my right. I noticed a huge dog running in my direction. It was slightly more than a block away. Without haste, the k-9 advanced towards me. Upon viewing this, I began to panic. Desperation set in as I looked up. I begged my brother to let me in. I began to cry. Fore that dog was far larger than I. It being a Great Dane.

As small as I was, it appeared to be full grown. I looked back towards the beast that was now less than a block away. My siblings laughed at me. They immediately began to crack jokes at my expense. They claimed, There’s no dog out there. Rapidly, I banged on the door like a crazed mad man. I cried as I bellowed, Let me in! My brother became concerned. He leaned forward out the window and noticed the behemoth of a dog. With urgency, he demanded that one of my sisters, Run down stairs and open the door.

I looked back to the right. The dog was now 300 or so feet away and closing rapidly. I grabbed the doorknob with both hands. I tried to turn the doorknob as I looked over my right shoulder. The Great Dane’s head was massive. It barked loudly as it advanced towards me. I released the copper colored doorknob. With great intensity, I slammed my small fist against the door. As the fear engulfed me, I began to urinate in my pants.

My sister was unable to open the door. When Nina twisted and pulled inward on the doorknob to open it, I pulled outward and closed it. She yelled up to Nathan, Tell him to let go of the doorknob and leave it alone. Once again, Nathan leaned forward and looked to the left. With urgency he yelled down to me, I’m on my way down. The dog was nearly 160 feet away. I shook my hands wildly in the air as I jumped about in a frantic circle. Just as the dog reached my location, my brother swung open the door. He stepped forward, reached out, grabbed my arms, and yanked me inside the house.

We both fell to the floor. My entire neurological system had been infiltrated with a toxic mixture of fear, hysteria, and strife accompanied by an intense desire to flee. Nathan tried to calm me but I jumped up and propelled myself up the stairs directly into the bathroom. Instinctively, I locked the door behind me. An hour passed before I emerged from my safe haven.

I can honestly say, I did not venture outside my home for the following three days. When I felt safe enough to go outside; I leaned forward while slowly opening the screen door. Cautiously, I eased forward and peeked out the door. I looked to the left and then to the right. The K-9 was nowhere in sight. Unbeknownst to me, someone was standing less than a block up from my home. A trainer had signaled the Great Dane to come forward.

A day or two later, I learned that a K-9 training facility had recently opened its doors. It operated just two blocks from my home. One week later, I made my way to the establishment and walked inside. I introduced myself to the owner. I informed him as-to-what had taken place just a few days ago. With hearty laughter, he explained to me that it was he who had called out to the Great Dane; that I had nothing to fear.

From that day forward, whenever I saw a K-9 off in the distance or being walked, I understood that the owner or an employee of his was at work training their clients’ pets. I continued to visit his establishment. I have a great love for K-9s. It touched me to discover that this facility owner provided such quality products and services for the pet community. To this day, his training facility continues to operate at the corner of 529 Oronoco Street, in Old Towne, Alexandria, Virginia.

Innocence Denied

After Ralston resigned as my daycare provider, my mother hired a local neighborhood female to care for my two sisters and I while she worked. It was Nathan’s first year in school. It was located more than four miles to the south of our home.

The new babysitter seemed nice. One day when it was rather warm outside, we were playing games with one another in the living room. The babysitter was in the kitchen preparing our lunch. Like most kids, we had to take our daily nap at a scheduled time. As we ate our lunch, the babysitter placed a set of quilts on the living room floor. After we had eaten our lunch, I stated that I had to use the bathroom to remove the food stains, fluids and crumbs from my clothing. The sitter escorted me up to the second floor after my sisters had laid down to nap. They rested on the set of quilts that she had prepared for us.

After I had relieved myself, she began to clean the wasted food and liquids from the outfit that I wore. First, she removed my tee shirt. Then my pants after show noticed that they were soiled as well. Next, she removed my underwear and completed the task of cleaning me. As she wiped me clean, something transpired within her mind. She then placed me on the floor and laid me on my back. She stood near my feet and looked down at me. She knelt down. She then wiped and