Feds didn’t really do a sweep lol, but this a story where I got arrested (well… kind of).
It was a Saturday morning on the summer holidays when I was picked up by my tutor to work on my math. He just moved house and I hadn’t really been to the class in a while during this point, but for some reason, my mum was called up on a Friday with the amazing selling point and I quote, “If it was an Arsenal game he would get up and go to it,” like…
(By the way, I was against this whole idea so this whole thing could have been avoided, but let’s not play the blame game here).
So after that lovely bit of convincing, I was forced to be whisked away early Saturday morning, and I’m talking EEAARLLYYY. I was picked up by my tutor and he made a couple other stops along the way to pick the other people up. I remember at one point we were in the car for AGGEESSS just waiting, but that’s just another story. Fast forward now with everyone picked up, we were whisked to a library near his new living area to work on math on a Saturday morning.
To be honest with you I was initially doing my work until my two friends next to me went to the shop and came back with guns.
Now I know what you’re thinking lol, they weren’t actual guns. You know those plastic toy ones you can buy for the corner store, harmless things. So they come back now and they start shooting the rubber bullets around the library and I’m not going to lie it looked fun at the time so I gave one of them money to buy me one from the store and now we’re all up in the library like…
(Not as aggressively as that, but yeah lol).
After putting up numbers in the library we were finally done and we all went to the park. The place was virtually empty except with the addition of a little boy and his mother. So we’re in the park and we’re playing with the “guns” and the little boy catches the eye of this and comes over to us and asks “If he can play.” We oblige, I mean he’s a little kid whatever. So we give him the gun and he starts shooting and his mum comes over and says to us politely to put the “guns” away so her son can’t see it as she doesn’t want her son to be playing with them, which is cool, I mean that’s no problem. Except, my pockets are full to the brim so I literally have nowhere to put it. I tried to stuff it in my pockets, but that honestly wasn’t working so I just decided to hold it out of her sons view so he wouldn’t see it.
Even after all of that he still continuously comes over and keeps asking “To play with guns.” We keep telling him they’ve gone and the mother notices the boy again so she comes over. The only explanation I can honestly think of is that she thinks I’m letting him play with the gun again because this woman came at me on a mad one. She immediately starts screaming at me, even with my trying to explain and indicating my pockets are full she doesn’t want to listen shouting something like “I’M WITH THE (she shows me her card to whatever the fuck it is)” “I’ll call the police blah blah blah.” I just thought whatever because after that she immediately takes her soon and leaves the park.
I thought that was the end of that. We started playing football for a while and then we started considering if we should start leaving because we were there for a long time at this point. Some people
At that age, I didn’t even know what a BB gun was, but I can swear to you on my life that thing was not a BB gun. I’m sure everyone knows those toy guns you used to get at those 99p stores or something when you were younger. Those “bullets” wouldn’t even hurt a fly, YOU COULD LITERALLY SCRUNCH THAT THING UP IN YOUR HANDS OR RIP IT, THAT’S HOW SOFT THESE THINGS WERE. She then starts talking about “You need a license for this etc.” and then she starts taking my details. I was scared as fuck and I honestly didn’t know what to do. At the time I thought everything she was saying was true and I had actually broken the law or something. Unknowingly I gave her my details and my friend who was next to admitted he had one as well (which he shouldn’t have done, but it is what it is). We were all then escorted back to our tutor’s house and this is where everything really started to hurt me.
Even though he knew my other friend had the same thing, for some reason I was the one that was vilified for it. Even when the other children tried to explain what happened he wasn’t having any of it. We were then driven back to the place where I would usually do my tutoring for another class and I was the only one who had to stay there. That time period was one of the worst because I felt I was being hung out to dry when in reality I didn’t even do anything. My tutor was Yoruba (for those who don’t know what that is it’s an ‘ethnic group’ in Nigeria) and he was just giving me the dirtiest looks that whole time. Even when someone’s parent came to pick up their child, this guy would be chatting whatever shit he was chatting about me to the parents in Yoruba just giving me the vilest look. It’s bad enough when people talk shit about you, but it’s even worse when you know that they are and you can’t understand a word of what they’re saying.
Everyone finally leaves now and he wants to personally drop me home so he can continue bad mouthing me to my mum. Fortunately for me when we get to the door my mum doesn’t open it when he rings the buzzer (multiple times by the way) and he ends up leaving and I use my key to go about my way home.
Unfortunately for me as I get upstairs my mum is chilling on the couch (she didn’t open the door because she knew I had the key and she wasn’t expecting anyone) and she immediately asks me what the voicemail was about on the phone that my tutor left her (I forgot to mention he left my mum a voicemail on the house phone when we got back and he made it seem like I had killed 5000 people or something).
(Africans and their over excessive exaggerations)
Please ask me if she even let me explain, Nah I’ll wait it’s fine… NOPE, I got beat the fuck out that day, even more so because I used her name as “a parent” when I had to give my details (bruh, I didn’t even know wtf my dad’s first name was), but that’s the end of that story…
I was actually in a calm mood before I wrote this (apart from being super hungry), but writing this and getting all these flashbacks has kind of made me a bit angry. Not only because these fuckers probably still have my details (I don’t declare that shit anyway), but how African parents (African elders to be honest) are so quick to vilify and to point fingers within a single heartbeat. In this situation to be specific, you being a black person yourself should understand how things are even better than me, but all you hear is police=he did something bad=beats and that’s not right. Even the way the tutor singled me out and made me feel like dirt was disgusting when in hindsight I didn’t do anything wrong. Yeah I shouldn’t have been shooting rubber bullets in the air in library, but who cares it’s harmless fun. When I look back at this now I wish I had someone like how I am now there with me because all this contributed to the “way I am now” and it would have made things a lot better for me. This will definitely fuel me for my next post though, which I have been putting on hold for a while as I’ve been stacking on ammo, but I’m truly ready to fire now (no pun intended)
Oh and by the way…
Yes, she was white.