him.”
Niles tugged at one of his dreadlocks, “Where you been,
brother?” he said, “Even white folks wear these nowadays. In a year
or so your mum will have ‘em.”
“I don’t have a mum,” the boy retorted, “And what I meant was,
why would anyone intentionally put a dead tarantula on their head?”
Niles let out a surprised laugh. “It’s a symbol of strength,” he
explained, “Like Samson in the bible.”
“Symbol? It’s a symbol of your vanity. Nothing more.”
“Excuse me?” Niles’ patience was thinning. He hadn’t fielded this
type of criticism since leaving Jamaica.
“I know about your people,” the boy declared, “You’ve invented a
whole religion as an excuse to smoke dope.”
“Ha ha! That’s right. You got us pegged. You’ve obviously studied
the Rastafari in great detail.”
“Only enough to know how stupid it all is. I’ve met guys like you.
You think the bible is about you. You think everything’s about you.
You think God was a king in Africa. You think you’ve suffered more
than anyone else. And you think you have the answer.”
At this point, Niles’ pity for the boy was nearly extinguished. But
he said nothing.
“What’s the answer?” the kid prodded, but the Rastafarian
remained silent. So he answered himself: “Go to Africa. That’s where
paradise is.” He brought his hands together as if in prayer. “What a
load of shit.”
“Look, kid,” Niles finally said, “Everybody thinks everything is
about them. And everyone thinks they’ve got it the worst. And
everyone has their strange dreams and ideas about the world. Why
should we be any different?”
“Because you’re living a lie.”
“And you? You’re so level-headed?” Niles raised his voice,
“You’re pretty full of shit too. What with chasing mermaids and all.
Your ratty T-shirt is no different than my dreads.”
The boy stood up to address the room: “I’m the only honest one.
All the rest of you are liars and hypocrites!”
“That’s right! Give us hell!” cheered Partment. Partment was a
great fan of protest, even if the protest was directed at himself.
“Is that so?” Niles sneered, “Then how did you get so wise? Tell
us, little big man. How is it that you see everything so clearly at such
a young age? Turn that floodlight on yourself. What made you such
ABYSSINIA
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