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Over Troubled Water

Strengthening the relationships between all African ancestored descendants

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

For the last few weeks I have been working on my life story, a book I hope to finish before my birthday in February of 2012. During the week of July 18th, I went down to South Florida to touch on my past. Sometimes you need to face your past in order to make a better future. Homestead, Florida and Florida City, Florida hold lots of bad memories for me. For some reason I always come back looking for the part of me I that I left there. Homestead, Florida is where my mom came after leaving Mississippi. 

My first stop was on Fourth Street where the buses drop off most of the migrant workers. I was around 12 years old. While standing there, I remembered my mom telling me how our new daddy acted when he saw all of us coming off the bus. As number one child came off the bus, he was smiling all the way until number four. When number five came off, the man started to cry. At number eight, he walked away. She found him later at somebody's bar and brought him home. He stayed and helped my mom with all of us, and he put a number (my baby sister) in there for himself .
First place I lived after my mom brought us to Florida from Mississippi.

I have always wondered why people don’t talk about all the people that left Mississippi and came down to South Florida. They always talk about Chicago or other places. The way people were thrown on top of one each other back then was a shame. I do believe that’s why there was so much killing going on. I went to the first house that we lived in. I could not believe how small this place was. It was a two story building that had two apartments up stairs, and two downstairs. There was only two rooms, a living room, a bedroom, a very small kitchen, and a little bathroom with a shower. Seven of us kids slept in the bedroom, and the grown-ups had the living room.
Homestead, Florida in 2011.

After about a year, my mom moved us to a place called China Camp/Golden Nugget off of Fourth Street. This place was made up the same way just with more apartments; it had to be about forty of them. The new place still had just two rooms, but we had a bathroom that had a bathtub and a bigger kitchen where some of us slept. At this time, I was around thirteen or fourteen years old. A lot of things went on here: drinking, gambling, fighting, killing. You name it, and it was there. I found out from my mom that a white lady owned it at that time in 1965. This is where I went wild and this is the place we stayed until we moved to Miami three or four years later.  


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With the blessings of technology, all African ancestored descendants can develop an online haven where healing can take place. Let's recite and relish in our history. Let's come together to identify the principles that help us to enjoy freedom and happiness. Hopefully, "Over Troubled Water" will be the beginning of that for you. We welcome contributors who will share their history and perspectives that we may all learn and benefit.
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"I believe that all men, black and brown and white, are brothers, varying in time and opportunity, in form and gift and feature, but differing in no essential particular, and alike in soul and the possibility of infinite development." --W.E.B. Dubois
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Over Troubled Water by Robin R. Foster is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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The village is coming together! We are from many diverse groups from around the world. We invite you to use Over Trouble Water as an avenue that will spark much needed dialog. This dialog can lead to great enlightenment and healing. Every effort will be made to supplement using historical resources for further study, however, opinions or views expressed in articles reflect the contributor's life experiences and are the responsibility of the respective contributor. Comments should be addressed to the respective contributor.

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