Evil Under The Sun

“Baby girl, stay out that sun; you gonna burn!”

“Yes, Mama,” was the only response a ten-year-old country girl like me could say. Naturally, I grew to hate the sun, convinced it was the cause of my anxieties, and agreed that it was not my friend. Given the critical opinions of dark skin, this powerful source of light from the sky brought me anguish. 

Mama said, “Trouble don’t last always, but for now, you must protect yourself from what people assume about you. We in the South, girl…stay out the sun.” 

But Mama didn’t care anything about what I thought; cause, in the South, people couldn’t avoid the sun. My skin gleamed like Hershey’s chocolate once underneath its fire. Mama, the color of vanilla hazelnut, and Daddy, a sweet butter pecan, created a flavorful brood they readied for the world. Still, nothing could prepare me for the evil stares and remarks I received on the first day back at school after a long hot southern summer. 

Thinking back, I realize these last thirty-five years, nothing has changed.

“Not working today, Mama. Just me and you hanging out,” I whisper as she silently rocks in her chair. 

“You know I’m the youngest of nine kids,” She responds. “My daddy was the pastor of Greater Pikesville Memorial Ebenezer Baptist Church.” 

      “I know, Mama…but thanks for sharing.”

My now salt and peppery-haired Mama sways in her chair quietly as the cruelty of dementia rehearses the old and forgets the recent. 

I begin thinking about all the dreadful things of the past, from active viruses to inflation and discrimination. I had an unspoken promise to look into people’s eyes and see the good; after all, God saw light, and it was good, and He divided the light from the darkness. Mama sees the light from the lens of judgment, then testifies in her court of one, “We are in perilous times; there is only evil under the sun.” 

“Not today, Mama,” I tease as the dark clouds form. “No sun, No evil!”

Mama swings her normal pace in her rocking chair. She didn’t respond immediately but said, “Don’t judge me.”

I look over at the feeble lady who once took a switch to my butt after falsely accusing me of taking the last slice of cake when I was twelve. 

“Wait… did you say something, Mama?” 

She recites, “You know I’m the youngest of nine kids. My Daddy was the Pastor of Greater Pikesville Memorial Ebenezer Baptist Church.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I’ll be back to check on you.”

I walk downstairs to my kitchen, and my ten-year-old son David’s hungry expression conveys, “Mom, Breakfast Now.” Standing beside him is a little boy who looks the same age as David, with curly black hair and deep dimples smiling in my direction. His clothes are tattered and dirty as if he’d been rolling in mud. 

“Good Morning Son.”

“Good Morning, Mommy, this is my new friend …um… Man.”

I pause for a moment studying the child before me, wondering why a parent would do such a thing, name their child Man. Perhaps that’s his nickname. I’m sure David is not trying to tell me his name is Man.

“His name is Man?”

My son and the curly-headed boy look at each other and share an innocent giggle.

David said sheepishly, “No, he likes to be called Man. He doesn’t live far from us, but he can’t go home right now.” David pauses again, “Some gangstas are chasing him. He’s hiding out at our house.”

Man creates a gun by using his fingers, then points his imaginary gun at me and says, “Hey, I’m gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yella, no-good keister off my property before I pump your guts full of lead! 1, 2, 10!” Then he says, “That was Gangster Johnny.” 

I smirk. “Yes, I am familiar with Home Alone.” 

I lean close to David and whisper, “We are playing Home Alone? Got it. And how did you come to meet this filthy animal?” I ask, going along with the enactment.

David hesitates and rubs his head, “Well…he was playing hide and seek out front, so I asked, can I play? He said, sure, they wouldn’t find us in your house.”

I thought it odd but went along with it; they were obviously playing a game with some mean little brats in the neighborhood, “Okay.” I put my hand out to shake his hand. “Man, it is nice to meet you.”

My loving son, who brings home every stray cat and dog, now brought me a child; lovely. 

“I need to go to the store before I make you guys’ breakfast.” I look at Man. “You will just have to come with us.” 

Man nods in agreement, then smiles.

The three of us leave out the back door leading from the kitchen to the wooden stairs and enter the rear alley. It is much easier to reach the corner store this way. The clouds threaten us with rain, and I am grateful for the absence of people roaming our path. 

Man stops as we walk down the street, and the color drains from his face. I follow the direction of his eyes. Three boys edge toward us in a single-line formation. These three beastly-looking boys have vile expressions on their faces. They shout obscenities as they creep closer. David stands frozen. He had never heard those words, but Man stands with a look of familiarity, a surprise yet unafraid. 

I progress into autopilot; and begin scurrying back to my house while holding the boys’ hands tightly and praying in movement.

I quickly open the door, slam it shut, then lock it. I look around. My son is there, but the other child is not. 

“David, where is Man?” I scream.

David is unable to form sentences. 

I had not prepared my son for the evils of men.

I stare at the door and whisper, “Where is Man?” I exhale and point at David, 

“Go to your room while I figure out what to do.”  

“But Mama, what’s wrong? I don’t understand. Why are we hiding?” 

“David…just do as I say. I can’t explain now.”

I don’t know why I never felt Man’s hand slip away from mine, but somehow that happened. I began to panic with concern for the little boy. I ran to the window to see if I could find him. Then I saw him a few feet from the back door. 

Man is on the ground crying while his arms extend toward the tallest boy. The other two foul-mouth creatures gaze up at my window as I watch. My body trembles, but I can’t let the terror overtake me. I must run to get my phone and call the police. Then an old feeling of worthlessness, of being insignificant, begins to creep into my spirit. 

Suddenly, a voice from the outside shouts, “Don’t worry, Ma’am, it’s okay.”

He’s standing alone, looking out the window, and speaking to me. The others have left.

Who is that? 

He continues to speak and walk in my direction. “Are you David’s Mother?” 

I gasp as he walks up each step slowly and patiently.

 “Man is fine, see.” He points. 

When he reaches my door, he turns the knob, and my heart pounds rapidly.

However, somehow, I had to help Man. I can’t trust this beast, and why does he know my son’s name?

I mumble, “I need a weapon!” 

I watch as he turns to escape with an expression of annoyance, leaving one helpless child on the ground. Was what just happened evil under the sun? 

I open my back door and run to Man. 

His skin is caramel with a golden undertone, and he glows like sunshine. 

Man takes my hand as I help him to his feet, resuming his brilliant smile as his eyes sparkle. I hug him as my own but wonder, did he not understand what happened? 

He brushes the dirt off his filthy clothes and says, “My brother wanted to meet you.” 

I almost trip off the curb, quietly asking, “You-r wha-t?”

“My brother. We were playing hide and seek, but I fell when you made me run. I skinned my knee… see.” 

Considered to be the reason, I glance at the pink scratch on his knee, then say, “Wait…that was your brother. He looked like a…, I thought he was a gang…. never mind.”  

 Man growls as he brushes past me. “I think I’m going home now. You made me fall. I’m going to go find my brother.” 

I walk into the house, up the stairs to the bedroom, where my mama rocks in her chair. “Little girl,” She utters. “You been out in that sun? You know there is evil under the sun.”