Memoire Memes

By Dr. Henrietta A. Abbey

It's a memoir. It's an interesting story of the author's life. She narrates her life history, from childhood through kindergarten to the university. She migrated to the United States and experienced motherhood and marriage which ended so abruptly that she ends up questioning where her life was going. At the end of the story, she realizes that sh

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Oct 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781648956379

Dr. Henrietta A. Abbey

Dr. Henrietta Abbey is an alumnus of Walden University. She graduated in 2021. This book is a research study conducted at the Ph.D level that netted feasible and produced rich data which can be replicated in other states. She also received a master's degree in Philosophy from Walden University. Her carrier background of 21 years in the police department paved the way for her to explore issues concerning networking, activism, demonstration, and law enforcement collaboration. She also acquired a master's degree in Labor Studies which contributed to her writing this book. Upon thorough investigation, Dr. Abbey discovered that issues regarding riots can be resolved through education, special training, policy making, and realistic facts.

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Acknowledgments

I thank my mother, Nancy; my brothers, Peter and Joshua; my father and cousin; and my children, Emmanuel and Emmanuella, who inspire me every single day and who make me laugh and smile. I also thank my coworkers for encouraging me. Thanks to Dr. Aaron and Dr. Behar. To all concerned loved ones, thank you very much. Thanks to dear friends, admirers, all mentors, and the teachers of Borough of Manhattan Community College.

Chapter

One

I Am

It was seven o’clock, Monday morning. The sun had started to rise from the east and would be setting in the west as it normally did. The clouds looked promising with no rain in sight. It was a cool day. The street sounds of cars, busses, and trucks stormed the air. It was a normal day when workers and students walked the roadside to work and to school. Suddenly, I became aware of myself; I was three. The memory is still fresh and clear.

I was chunky and plump and stood by the second gate leading to the cottage and the back door exit, crying and whining. Why? Because it was early in the morning, and my brothers and cousins were leaving for school as usual, and I could not go with them. I wanted to follow them. I would have no one to play with when they left. My brother Pitt then said, Go to Mama, pointing in our grandma’s direction. It became a pattern that I would cry every day they went to school.

Sometimes, Pitt promised to take me with him next time. He would close the gate and run off to join Josh and Cousin Alison. I stood a while at the gate, and then when I felt overwhelmed, I went to Grandma, who would be sitting by the coconut tree near the duck coop. She would watch me out of the corner of her eye while I played with the animals and chased them in circles. When Grandmother left the area, I would run to the tap water behind the cottage, open it up, and run the water over my head.

Cousin Alison was the first to come home, looking for me. She scolded me for wetting myself and picked me up, changed my clothing, and then fed me. Then came my brothers. They normally got back from school at approximately noon. I was happy then because I had playmates and attention.

Then on weekends, when there was no school, they spent time with me, playing hide-and-seek. We beat drums and danced to the tune while Cousin Alison clapped her hands. We also used our fingers to sing and make plays. We used bamboo sticks as flutes.

On Sundays, we went to the Methodist Church all the way in Asylum. It normally happened that Grandfather was the first to get to the car, already dressed up, and would be hooking the horn, calling us to come along. We rushed out, our dressing unfinished, to go to the car. Once in a while, we stayed for the full service, or else we went roaming in the area and denied ourselves the service by exploring the environment. Or sometimes we left to visit the two museums close to the church. I was little and paid no fee while my brothers and cousins used their church money to pay for the fare at the entrance. Also we sometimes went to Grandmother Clara’s (my father’s mother’s) place during service hours, especially when we left the house early on Sunday mornings without eating breakfast and felt hungry. While we settled down to eat, she told us ancestral stories and fairy tales of famous people she knew. By the time we left to come back to the church premises, service was over and Grandfather was looking for us to go home.

When I turned four years old, I was whining as usual when a relative rang the doorbell. When he came into the living room, he informed Grandmother that she had a new granddaughter. Because my grandmother would be giving attention to the newborn child, I felt angry and started destroying things. I placed a crayon in my ear. They had to send me to the ear clinic for removal of the crayon. I also dipped my hands into hot oil on the stove, and they had to send me to the clinic for a couple of months. I was mad and hated my grandmother at the same time because I did not have her full attention. I hated the cry of the newborn baby cousin. She demanded so much attention.

Finally, my grandfather could not take my nuisance anymore. He went to my brothers’ school and made inquiries so I could be accepted as a student there. When the family told me the news, I was so excited. I jumped up and down because I didn’t have to stay with my grandmother and the newborn cousin, who took to crying all the time and got all my grandmother’s attention. Also, I was going to make new friends and meet new people, and I was going to be with my brothers. Cousin Alison’s school was also in the area; she could look out for me.

School started around half past eight. First, we had morning interaction for half an hour. From there, we played for an hour, after which we had snacks for forty-five minutes—we were slow eaters. At eleven o’clock, we listened to music for half an hour. At half past eleven, we played with the toys in the classroom until noon when our mommies, daddies, siblings, and guardians came to pick us up. This routine continued for one whole year.

In preschool, the class teacher liked me. She doted on me. She gave me candies and spoke to me in soft tones. She stroked me gently and sung to me. I loved her too. She taught us students a lot of songs and made us sing them. We made a lot of noise with the cymbals, tambourines, maracas, and plastic instruments. We also danced and played around. One of the songs that she taught us still rings a bell in my mind. We counted each finger till we got to the tenth finger. We sang: One little finger. Clap, clap, clap. Two little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Three little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Four little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Five little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Six little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Seven little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Eight little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Nine little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. Ten little fingers. Clap, clap, clap. On the tenth finger, we made a whole lot of noise. The idea was to get us to count from one to ten.

The teacher did not say a thing when we made noise; she encouraged us to create a whole lotta noise because it helped us to forget about our parents, siblings, and guardians, who brought us to school. We were young and having emotional problems separating from our loved ones on the way to school; each morning was difficult.

All the kids in the nursery successfully graduated into kindergarten. In kindergarten, we had a male teacher, who was interested in making us into movie stars. We did not do much with numbers and letters; we just acted and played roles. We learned a lot of songs too. After kindergarten, my two brothers left the school to go to another school. I could not go to school by myself, so I had to change schools like my brothers Pitt and Josh. I was too little to understand why we had to leave the school. Pitt and Josh were mad because I was following them to the new school. They wanted to distance themselves from me. They blamed me for quitting Aggrey Memorial School (AMS). Honestly, I had no idea why they left for Ramana Preparatory School (RPS). They never told me the reason. I stayed in the new school until the end of the second grade when an incident occurred and then I returned to AMS for third grade. Pitt and Josh went to the seventh grade.

During those years, Grandpa was giving us a ride to school each morning. And then, in the afternoon, he picked us up. That day, my friends at RPS told me to go with them to their house. I said no; I was waiting for my brothers. I waited for an hour, and when I realized that everybody had left the school compound, I also left to go see my grandmother, who lived twenty blocks from the school. My brothers had walked me to Grandmother’s place before, and I could find my way. My friends discouraged me, but I was determined. I remember walking along the pathways and passing my uncle’s job at the asylum, passing the Methodist church, finally going through the museum and to Farmers Council, where grandmother had a stall. When I approached the stall, she was not there. I crossed the street to her house. Her door was locked. I had class the next day; I had to go back home, and dusk was drawing near.

I retraced my steps back to school. I decided to find out from the school if my brothers had returned. Fortunately, the head teacher and her family lived in the school compound. They were surprised to see me. I told them that I was looking for my brothers to take me home. It was six o’clock. They did not make any effort to send me home. Instead, they fed me and gave me a nightgown and put me to bed. I was almost asleep when Lydia, the headmaster’s daughter, woke me up and said, Your mother and grandfather are here. Mother was crying. They had come from the precinct. They had made a report that I was missing. They decided to come to the school to see if the headmaster knew my whereabouts. I was very happy they found me, but sad that I could not go to sleep right away because I felt tired. Grandpa’s vehicle was parked outside, and we went to sit in the car. It was dark, and there was silence in the car. There was a sense of relief from Grandpa and Mother.

That night, at home, my mother scolded my brothers for leaving me in the school. No wonder we had to come back to AMS, which was five blocks from our house. Mother thought it was wise to go to a school close to the house so that my brothers could keep an eye on me and easily send me home before going out to play with their friends. I did regret leaving the school to visit Grandma because one time I had to cross the highway all by myself, and there was one man I was suspicious of who tried to follow me. I had to wait for him to get in front of me, so I could be on the alert should he try to harm me or do anything.

Although my brothers were still mad at me for going to grandmother’s house alone, it did not stop them from teaching me to be independent and refrain from following them. This time, they hatched a plan to distance themselves from me at school. When I would go looking for them, I could not find them. They found replacements for themselves, students a little older than me, who walked me to the house, who were playmates in the area. Mother spoke to them, telling them to pay attention to me, but still they continued until they completed