Saturday, February 10, 1979, 9:37 a.m. I am startled out of a deep sleep by my bedside phone. It's Martha: "Gwen! It's yo' granddaddy! HE DONE KILLED HISSEF!!!!!!!!!!!Iwuz in the bathroom takin' a bath! Warn come yeah and give him dat gun. Daddy called him and assed him to bring it cause dey been some burglaries in duh neighborhood. He shot hiz sef! "
Instantly, I knew she did it! I did not want to believe she did it. So, I refused to believe that Martha could fall that low. I had witnessed some pretty sick things. But, to MURER YOUR OWN FATHER?
Hell no! No way! But I watched her. I studied her body language. Not one hint of fear or guilt. Actually Martha was quite jovial. She went out and bought herself a ton of new outfits. Most were designed to match her white, on white, in white, white Cadillac.
She bought a very expensive camera for my brother *Jojo to preserve this momentous occasion.
"Whut you taking pictures of all dem black ass, ugly ass niggas fuh? Just take pictures of me!"
I rushed "home" immediately. I remember having to call my principal in order to request bereavement leave. Burma could barely understand me as I blabbering something about my grandfather committing suicide. How could I say such a thing? How could I be dumb enough to repeat that lie?
We were all idiots! Complete idiots! This over indulged scummy bitch was up to her old demonic tricks. We knew not to accuse her though. I was in enough pain preparing for the funeral. The way she attacked XXXX (My oldest brother, the one she TOLD me SHE HATED for ruining HER life. XXXX was always my grandfather's fault. 'If daddy hadden been running a juke joint I sudden nevah had got pregnant wid XXXX! " This sudden blurt of information, long hidden secrets, was always followed by hours of RAGE!)
The horror of the day my mother turned into satan right in front of my face still crushes me. I did not know that she was demonic then. I had no name for her behavior other than ignorant. "Ignut" was the label granddaddy put on his daughter's behavior. He would just shake his head, walk away with the tears streaming down his face with her always the winner.
No one, and I mean NO ONE could not out scream her, out curse her or be more violent. You could tell by the look in her eyes that it was over for you. So, this particular episode involved my oldest brother, that we were forbidden to call brother. "Dat NIGGA is yo' UNCLE. I told you damn dumb muthf******* I give dat nigga tuh my mama and daddy. Dey adopted him legal! Dat nigga gon' share in duh land jest lak me!"
Very long story short, she tried to shoot him dead with a .45 for being late returning HER CADILLAC! He was simply trying to defend himself. She cursed him like a dog in front of his new fiancé. She wanted this new woman to see her son as less than a man. (He was in the military and she never wanted him to marry anyone because ;'that bitch will git all duh money')
Forced to fight back, XXXX, I guess to at least resemble a man, he hollered; "Sister shit! You my mama bitch!" Whoa! What did he say that for!? Mathy got her gun again! It was awful.
How could I confront her at this time? How many brutal bloody beatings, stabbings and attempted shootings had I seen? Truthfully by age 27, I had honestly lost count. Martha's m.o.(modus operandi) is so obvious now. Trauma bond, terrorize, sweet talk, coo, turn on your feminine charm, make up, lie mesmerize, re-gift some raggedy piece of shit that you are going to take back any way.
"Say sumptin and get knocked out!" Plus you knew your sorry ass family , all men, very few women, were total pussies when it came to that hardened harlot, Mathy Jane. I am laughing because my mother Mathy Jane was always a notorious whore that cleverly hid all of her indiscretions quite well. Except for the times she wanted to be an exhibitionist.
It is obvious that we made up in our minds that we were going to have a "normal" mother. We were going to pretend right along with Martha that everything was fine. If anything ever went wrong, it was clearly our fault. After all Mathy was religious. She sure loved the LORD. How did we know? She told us! We knew she loved us too. Again, she told us.
She could not be lying. Not after the way she would wake us up and got us up every Saturday morning (before 6 a.m. for no good reason) Screaming; "He said a LIAR wudden tarry in hiz sight! YOU SORRY BLACK MUTHAFUCKERS! GIT DUH FUCK UP!!!"
Again, did she believe it? Was this just another ploy? Just how fucked up was this motherfucker? Why didn't anybody ever tell us? I just had to figure this shit out on my own. "Where would I be if it had not been for the LORD?" Dear LORD, I sudder to think what my life would have been like without Jerome Walters!
This 'ho had it out for me! This bitch hunted and haunted me like a viper. Well, she was a viper. But, what did she get? The dumb bitch didn't get shit! Well, yes she did, she got to be the example of WHAT NOT TO DO!
Ask GOD to take that fear from you. Trust GOD. Never bow down to satan. Make satan bow down to you.
Remember;"Apart from Christ we are nothing."
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