Page 41 of The Black Flamingo

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underneath. It will look like locs

straightaway and it will become

real locs over time.”

After the hairdresser,

I go to visit Granny B

to show her my locs,

hoping she will see me

as more Jamaican.

She says, “Me nah like it,

Mikey. Back a yard only Rasta man

ave dis. Yuh tun Rasta?”

I don’t answer. I don’t know much

about Rastafarians but I like how

the hairstyle looked on Bob Marley.

Granny B kisses her teeth

and puts a plate of food down

in front of me.

Curried goat and rice and peas.

Then she places a twenty-pound note

next to my plate.

She says, “Tek dis fi de barbershop.

Cut it off, Mikey. Cut it off.”

I eat my dinner silently and accidentally

on purpose elbow the twenty to the floor,

hoping Granny will vacuum it up.

Dear Bob Marley,

What’s it like to be mixed but accepted

as black?

What’s it like for your work to be known

around the world?

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