Making Callaloo in Detroit
Publication Year: 2014
Published by: Wayne State University Press
Series: Made in Michigan Writers Series
Praise, Title Page, Series Page, Copyright Page, Dedication
I grew up eating callaloo as if it was daily fare in the city of Detroit, along with schtew chicken, pelau, sanchocho, and listening to all the calypso Lords, as well as Latin jazz master Tito Puente. How does that happen? Imagine dancing on the Bob-Lo boat to someone among...
The morning was gloomy, fuh so. By gloomy I mean a feeling yuh can’t quite put yuh finger on, a creepy sadness, a sense that something isn’t right. Yuh wake up feeling heavy, as if some kind of presence is trying push yuh back to the mattress and yuh have to fight in order...
Smack dab in the middle of the block sat the three old women, like queens reigning from sturdy outdoor rattan thrones. They were not quite at the grizzled stage, meaning too arthritic to move about much, but each had a few hairs jutting from her chin and plenty of mouth to...
Five Workers Report on How the Deal Really Went Down
Wow wee—for seven in the morning, the lights were bright like an RKO studio filming It’s a Wonderful Life as people began milling around the entrance to the Building D auditorium. We came from all over the site, assembly and metal fabrication, grounds and housekeeping...
No Puedo Bailar
When Los Reyes hit the first chord of their signature bolero rítmico, “La Pared,” Orquidia jumped to her feet from the rickety folding chair in the basement apartment of an old building on the main drag of southwest Detroit. It was her favorite tune on the CD because it could...
Whole night long I ent sleep from the blasted summer heat. My room was in the front, and I was afraid tief would climb in if I opened the window; plus the little fan was only blowing hot air. Then too I was busy all night making bakes with Mummy. She came to me in a dream...
Sometimes You Leap; Sometimes You Fall
From where she stood at the smoke-yellowed window of the interrogation room on the thirteenth floor of the downtown police precinct, the gull looked like a big dry leaf or crumpled paper bag swirling on the ground as if caught in an isolated air disturbance, a mini-tornado, ...
Sadie and Marqway
It was Sadie’s first time frying chicken the way her mama does. Grease was spattering all over the stove, on the wall, on the floor, and edges of the chicken were burning. But she had put eggs in the batter to coat the fowl, just like her mama, and tested the grease with droplets...
What I want most is a plate full of red beans and rice and a good Bogey movie. Maybe Clark Gable. Maybe a movie with Bogey and Clarky. Wasn’t there one like that? How about a movie with Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy and Lauren Bacall? We could look...
Bush was everywhere in the house, beginning from a crack at the side door, and it was cold outside. I never saw anything like this. Bush was hanging from the ceiling, coming up from the cracks in the wooden floors, snaking round from behind the archway leading to the kitchen...
Over the Belle Isle Boundary
It was a hot-sun and breezeless day. Solar rays pressed relentlessly against the fourth-floor nursing home window facing East Grand Boulevard. The home really had no recourse from the sun in its treeless section of what was called convalescent row only a spit north of Belle...
Ole Year’s Night
Just past midnight and the adults were finished with praying on their knees and wishing each and all a blessed New Year. The children were wet with parental kisses and embraces and incomprehensible predictions about the future from aunts, uncles, and family friends...
Love in the Dollar Store
How he met that angel of a woman was pure fate come to save his life from heading south, meaning it was tanking, falling apart—nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Felipe was beyond loser, beyond a totally useless piece-of-shit idiot, beyond all redemption for that matter. He...