No one dare say it aloud, but it splintered our slang speaking minds; we had to get out, the new majority rule, left no economic space for us to plant our seeds. While the conversation behind the brown beer bottle seemed to focus on, the positive aspects of the exodus, like you can work two jobs and earn the strong pound and return with enough to buy houses called cabins, or cars called gees, the truth was we all knew survival depended on it. We were the bees looking for a new hive, seeking freedom and continuance in the land of the Queen.
When Lionel arrived in the United Kingdom called London by our British created race, he was surprised to find that he had to work two jobs just to survive, but the conversation behind the British beers, told him it was still better, than having no job in Zimbabwe, cause his skin was wrongly colored, by the mixing of black and white blood.
At the end of white rule, our mixed race group, classified as race coloured, numbered
20 thousand, within 30 years of majority rule that number would be down to 2 thousand, with the identity double zero. Zero being nothing, and double zero being less than nothing.
Some would argue that we deserved, this great betrayal, by the sons of our motherland, for being nothing more, than house slaves to the British settlers. As always Lionel would argue that a human must do what they must do to keep life moving forward. For Lionel there was something special in the mixing of blood, it created an adaptable human, who could be more than just black or white. The mixing was like Gods final solution to end the war between black and whites.
Like most of his blood, he originated and did time in the trenches of the suburb called Arbennie before promotion to the newly built suburb of Sunningdale. For mixed raced families willing to work hard, and avoid the illusions of the brown bottle, a natural progression was allowed to live in better areas, like the Saint Martins, or Braeside
And finally reaching the top in Hillside.
Lionel’s guardians had a good and severely entrapment to the brown bottle thus avoiding the expected rise of out of the lowly ghetto. His uncles had went to war to protect British interest; they in luck did not lose their lives, but inevitably lost their marbles. A Google search of Lionel’s mind would show young images of him as a kid running on the ghetto streets next to his uncle holding an FN rifle: Neighbors’ screaming.
Mostly Lionel avoid thoughts on the past, one had to look forward, be positive, imagine castles in the sky, and set out to build them.
Like most of us Lionel learned to love the new land and have a ready answer to the English Question.
“Are you black?”