The Best Non-Crier on 50 Purley Avenue

 

I know what I’m going to do this half- term break. I’m going to prove to everyone on Purley Avenue that I’m still the best non-crier on the street. I first have to deal with Dolores. She made fun of me when I showed the rest of the kids on the street my Tina Turner show. Everyone else said I was great. I hate Dolores. She has so many freckles. Her face looks like a slice of ham with many tomato seeds. I don’t have breasts yet but I have a great BMX bike that I call Tiger.

“You’re just a stupid Cabbage Patch kid,” I yell at her from across the street. It’s the first Saturday of the half-term break, 27th October.

Southall Park London, 2013

“And our gang will always be better than yours.”

With that, I run to the green bush where the rest of my gang is waiting. We call ourselves The Stars. Every holiday, me, my brothers, The Ugandans on 46 Purley Avenue, the Nigerians on 48 Purley Avenue, Paree and a bunch of other kids hang out. It’s still warm for October and I’m glad since my birthday is next Saturday. Ihuoma’s gone off to Manchester so I’ll just hang out with the Purley kids.

“What’s the plan for today? Where’s Happy Sam? And where are Punch and Judy?”

Happy Sam is my neighbor from Nigeria, five years old. He lives on 48 Purley Avenue next to the Ugandans on 46 Purley Avenue. He was born in 1981 and is younger than all of us. But we all like Happy Sam because he is just so happy. Punch and Judy, the nick name for the Kenyan twins, are my best friends on Purley Avenue. Ihuoma is still my best friend in the world. Actually, Gemma is also my best friend in the world. Punch and Judy are the fastest runners on the street but I’m better than them at marbles.

Justin tells us that Happy Sam went to pick up his brothers and sisters from the airport with his parents. His family comes to London every year from Nigeria. Justin is Julie and Jackson’s brother. They are Ugandan like me and they are called The Musokes. When our white friends read their name, they call them Moo-Soaks.

“Well, we have to go and get them. Come on: if our gang is going to be strong, then all the members have to be here. We are going to rumble, and we will win.”

“Listen guys, I think we have to go over to their house and tell them that if they don’t come today, we can lose the rumble,” I declare.

“Elgona’s right,” Julie says.

I know she only does so because she thinks that Masaba will like her better. Julie even allows Masaba to touch her breasts. I don’t have breasts yet.

“Ok then, let’s go,” says Masaba.

“Good.”

When we get to Punch and Judy’s house, we see a big moving van outside.

“What’s going on?” Justin asks.

“Are they leaving?” says Masaba.

Their Mum, Mrs. Why-Nigh-Nah, which is actually spelt Wainaina, comes rushing out with about a dozen pillows in front of her and bumps into us.

“Where are you guys going? Are you leaving?” I blurt out, leaving Julie to help her with the pillows that have fallen on the ground.

“Oh, you’re all here,” says Mrs. Why-Nigh-Nah.

I hate it when adults play dumb.

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Part of my story published in 2013, Postcolonial Text.

Title: The Best Non-Crier on 50 Purley Avenue