Shot you down.

Can you imagine a land of peace? A land inhabited by kind and caring spirits A land singing the harmony of man? This type of land seems impossible with violence running loose, spreading malice, fear, and strife; however it has existed. In my short lifetime, I have experienced both worlds without changing locations.

In "Some African Cultural Concepts," Steve Biko speaks about the differences between African and Western relationships. In general, the African unites to uplift the others, while the Westerner struggles to lift himself. As I read each of Biko's comparisons, I began thinking of the swift change from African to Western concepts in my community. In the eighties, I remember a bond of unity among my neighbors. Steve Biko termed this love "the modern African culture" In my community, on the outskirts of San Francisco, everyone united as a single family. All the children went to the same schools, played the same game, and came into the house simultaneously. We shared a "deep concern for each other" When locked out of the house, I treasure that I could go to any of the neighbors' houses. Even if they were going to an important engagement, they would dress me with their children and take me along. They would never send me home without dinner. Because my parents knew I was in safe hands, they would not be concerned with time. Out of this deep concern came "a desire to share" Ample communication flourished between neighbors. As a child, I remember if I got caught doing something wrong by neighbors, I would be scolded by the catchers and my parents. Support was given if someone was struggling. For instance, I recollect if we ran out of milk, we could go next door, and they would give us their whole jug. Aid was rendered benevolently with " no remuneration...ever given". There just was not any concern for violence. In Summer, every homie would throw a house party. One Summer- I think I was seventeen-I remember going to a house party with a group of five homes. That summer night, we went to every house party in the neighborhood. At the end of our journey, we met thirty other teenagers at this really grimey house party. We faced this house party together and had each other back in case something went down.

The happiness and love were so great that they must have blinded all to the change brought on by our new neighbors. Their name was violent and insolence. Their children's names were fear, belligerence, and haughtiness. The exact time they moved in, I know not. They must have been disguised, hidden like thieves in the night. Although they shook the community like an earthquake, separating and destroying the family bond, no one felt the actual event but only recognized the aftermath. The trauma can be seen in the present attitudes of the community. Conversation between neighbors becomes less and less each year. Today, I can see my neighbors ten times a day, never bothering to say hello. Communication only stems from the status competition. For example, If the Johnson get a new car, then the Johns must have a better one, etc. until the street is lined with new cars. My family often argue about "Such-and-such did this to their house. Why can't we do this to ours?'" Because of competition, no one wants to ask for help. My mother always tells me, "To see you struggle makes their day."

With the increase in violence, fear cannot be avoided. While neighbors were sitting in their houses, their cars were stolen. Another neighbor's house was robbed of the DVD player. A close friend was killed on his front porch as he went into the house. All of the above events occurred during broad daylight; nobody saw anything. Day and night, drug dealers stand on corners while drug users wander the streets. Everyone totes a gun, for good reasons, I believe, to be safe. People are apprehensive about coming out of their own doors. As people walk on sidewalks at night, their paths are lighted with the multiple motion sensory lights on apartments. Parents don't let their young children outside. The city decided to remove the playgrounds because young children were not using them. Instead, the playgrounds had become hangouts and target ranges for teenagers. The influence of fear can be seen in the summer. For the past several summers, the majority of my homies no longer throw parties. They are afraid to open their door to strangers. Summer has become filled with tears, with the younger youth killing each other, robbing houses, and scaring the few youths left trying to succeed.

But how, in this community, did "the African begin to lose a grip on himself and his surroundings" This sickness can be attributed to many elements. Many diagnosed the current state as an overflow, contagious leprosy, violence from sick, neighboring areas. Designed while drawing up the plans of the area, this merging project had been overlooked and forgotten. Neighbors complained about having one exit and entrance, so the project was resurrected. As a result of opening the road, many roads, many feel the neighborhood was infected with the agitation running rampant in the heart of the adjacent areas. People saw their protection against the dangers lurking behind the projects destroyed, as the fortress of houses was knocked down.

This problem is centered not only in my community but in about every black community in America. The story of Pandora's box was a myth; this story of unleashed misfortunes is real. Where did the love and respect go? Where is the strength, but more importantly, where is the hope? The black community must stand up by taking care of what is theirs, immortalizing Bikos words. We cannot sit around watching all that our ancestors worked for a turn to dust. Wise men say, "history has a way of repeating itself." For the sake of the black community, I hope this statement is a true prophecy, for I love my neighborhood. Like a mother with her child, I shall never disown my neighborhood no matter what it may do to itself or me. For it is part of me, and I am part of it.