The Cathedral
Chapter 2
Soloman Sadly Brown
That same evening and further up Toxteth's Lodge lane is the cafe establishment called Soloman Sadly Browns.
"Yep the exodus. I do recall the day. Being in the last building they left standing, yep. They tore the whole place down. Brick by brick. I was ruined and the majority of us relocated here. And this place was then never, never the mess it is now!" The old voice of the speaker pauses before adding: "The human race son, I blame the human race...!"
"But all that history means for us... " replies the younger voice of the boy listening, "means nothing could have been worse, I mean for us Mr. Brown!"
"That's right lad... That's right..!" Soloman Sadly Brown replies.
Soloman is the proud proprietor and owner of this continental cafe operating out of Lodge Lane. Opening at 12 noon meant closing at around 4am, six out of seven days a week and Soloman was always open. Things in life for men like him, had never been easy. Born in 1932, the only child of a first generation African slave, his father's family origin began on the Ivory Coast of Africa.
Soloman's mother proudly belonged to one of Jamaica's last known surviving Arowak Indian families. Since Soloman was born both his parents lived on Jamaica's Free Town Maroon and his father could boast of being amidst one of the first free slaves.
In 1946, after the second great world war, Soloman had reached the age of fourteen. That year recalling his father talking of a land with greater opportunities for him and his mother. This meant they soon began preparing for a long, long grueling journey to England.
It wasn't until mid June 1959 when the ship they traveled on ferried into Portsmouth docks, England and for Soloman Brown, and his parents a nightmare began to unfold around them. Prejudice was rife and Soloman watched his father's spirit break, when finally accepting they'd been enticed into a land of opportunity that in reality became a daily fight for respect, equality and survival.
That first day in the capital city Soloman recalls all the new West Indian families daily becoming targets of violent abuse hatred and ignorance.
"There is a finer minority living here that are educated and wealthy son. They know much more about it all, but they emulate from those who are poor, uneducated and ignorant." Soloman's father's voice replays in his mind as he cast back those thoughts. "They will turnto violence quickly Soloman. In their hatred and confusion. But when they realise one day we are not the subjects of their anger, it may be to late."
Soloman's father in the last few days of his life spoke as though he knew what lay ahead. A man who'd fought alongside the likes of Paul Boogle, ended bringing his family into the land of his former slave masters. In the end like so many others to become a subject of first hand hatred and oppression. Soloman who loved his mother, who died before they moved from the capital city, also began to understand why his father became a hard and harsh tempered man.
At the age of forty eight Soloman, having been through approved school, borstal and detention as a late teenager moved to Toxteth where his father had already invested in a small shop selling hot food. That was on the old Granby Street Frontline, notorious as Toxteth Liverpool's inner city ghetto. For Decos Emmanuel Brown who passed away in 1971 a free life trading in goods, had always been a harsh and serious business.
By late 1981 and after the great Toxteth Riots and civil unrest, Soloman Sadly became well established in Toxteth. Now that notorious front line had been demolished Soloman often reflected on the generations of memories dismantled brick by brick.
Purchasing his present establishment, meant being sandwiched between Kruger's betting office and a Candy Store. Soloman's Cafe pool hall also had Dobson's public house facing the front window, separated by the width of Lodge Lane itself.
This was a very busy corner and all those who frequented the premises could enjoy freshly cooked food with seating during the afternoon. Further inside the establishment was a juke box stereo and three pool tables. Solomon also kept his patrons entertained, with cable television installed on screen. The premises usually attracted a younger generation, whose custom kept Soloman from rock bottom. Right now he was surviving. Just like many other private businesses still open around the Lodge Lane area.
That evening he was being assisted by a young man called Rufus Turntable. A British born Black youth, of third generation West Indian parents. He was a very inquisitive boy as Sadly had noted some time ago more intelligent than many of his elder peers, who regularly frequented the premises. Rufus Turntable also had an older brother whose character was not so savory. His street name was Nasty and that went with his reputation for fighting and unruly behavior as a teenager in the area. Tommy had been his real name but unlike his older brother Rufus was a good lad who was again asking a lot of questions.
"That's why young man, we must go to school, although I'll argue, that until they put the true history of the Negro race on the curriculum before their own, I see very little chance of us moving forward... Therefore we must self teach and pass it on. Pass on the glory of who we are and where we truly began."
Rufus like many inner city kids had stopped attending school and Sadly was quite amazed how he soaked up everything he was told and had recently been visiting him daily.
Having been around and done almost everything Soloman could see things on this Earth where changing rapidly.
"How often these days I thank my parents young man, for the wisdom they've installed in me. As their only child you see, I'm now carrying a heavy burden of knowledge and I believe in order to change a status and plight of a failing nation."
Solomon often sat alone and regularly felt the earth's tremors, while monitoring the advancement of mankind. Like his mother they had considered him to be one of those gifted people.
"Well young Rufus it is so hard not to see. Even for the sightless and a crime to ignore for those alive and kicking." Sadly mumbling adds "I often ask myself : how much longer Decon? How much longer?".
Soloman would be seventy six although from his appearance you could knock off ten years. He was in good shape physically and in his mind. Like his mother Potence, Soloman had a gift in a mind that recalled almost every numeral, letter and uncannily remembers the past like it happened just yesterday. Soloman knew full well that his Nation had been wrongly enslaved, emancipated and then excluded.
Now 1999 and lawlessness was already out of control signaling an empire and kingdom that once ruled half the world now falling apart. Even more Soloman Sadly Brown and other gifted people around the world where getting the signs and knew quite well that the real terror and anarchy, had not yet begun.
"They all talk of a break in the ozone layer on the news Mr. Brown. What d'you say about that?"
"While they have fired lasers from the polar Ice caps into the ozone. They would blame the mass population in order to hide the truth while alchemists play with our time in order to protect the earth. An earth they wish and plan to escape from..."
"Escape from what Mr. Brown?"
"Well son, a long, long time ago tribes of people did not worship one god. They praised idols and many worshiped the sun God."
"Ah, ah like the...like the new gang?" interrupts Rufus
"New gang young man?" Soloman enquires, "and do we need anymore gangs?" Sadly raises his eyebrows at Rufus who begins to elaborate.
"Well, some Somali lads have started a thing they call Sun Masi and they reckon we should all join 'em to survive..?"
"Is that so young man?"
"Yes Mr. Brown..."
"Ok, so back to the point of these tribes, that long ago worshiped the sun God and through fear of it being a great thing that can give and take life. Fear of a sun but not the one we look at everyday in our sky. That's just a small one. A gang, you say, young man? Well everyone seems to be in some form of gang but if there's another gang then round here, things...are not going to get any easier too handle. Do you agree?"
"Yep and I say we only need two gangs Mr. Brown like, like Labour and Conservative. Like, err, Republic and Democrat. I figure...if gangs are the way forward then maybe we must become uniformed and controlled for it to make any sense in being and that's the way I'm feeling it Mr. Brown."
"Wow wee, you are a dangerously bright boy Rufus! That's why I do sometimes worry about you...errm " mumbled Soloman.
Stopping further conversation is a vehicle's headlights approaching the main window and belonging to a blue Transit that mounts the kerb, screeching to a halt right outside Soloman's premises.
Soloman's motion to Rufus is to move and the young man disappears into a hidden exit out of sight.
"The trap is open son. Yep and ya right. Looks like trouble..."
Sadly saw the huge man exit the vehicle's passenger door. He was fully uniformed and flanked as usual, by several armed bodies.
"Now this pumped up prick, is a pumped up prick..!" mutters Soloman Sadly quietly.
Entering in a flurry of importance is Detective Chief Inspector Jack Mainland Masterson. He strides like a rod, briskly marching through the doorway and towards Sadly Brown's shop counter. Solomon who hasn't moved his position much peers up from a newspaper as though that's what he'd been reading.
"Ah ahh, tell me if I'm not wrong Mr. Brown, did I see rats, staining your back door?" Masterson didn't miss much and he came with a subversive irritating and arrogant manner. "Wouldn't have been young Turntable would it..?"
"Well I never," replied Soloman peering around "I don't believe it was."
"No, old man, wrong answer. Anyway we have got a warrant out for Tommy Turntable, that is. What we want to know is why?"
That was a question Sadly wasn't able to answer and for him a game this man played regularly.
He was Mainland Masterson a man with a cruel face and one Solomon had known for many years. Beginning a reign of law enforcement in Toxteth just after the second disturbances in 1986. Having left the military police, Masterson had walked into the rank of desk sergeant and standing at over six foot six he was quickly feared and renowned. Now at 36 he been elevated to the rank of Chief Inspector in charge of Merseyside armed response. He was known as the official Merseyside Police Federation flagship.
But Soloman Sadly Brown knew all about Mainland Masterson and just how dangerous he was. Sighing inwardly Soloman sneers back into the face of our hyped up lawman, who began surveying the pool house premises. Soloman likewise could now see, his place was now over populated by Masterson and his several uniformed bodies.
"A new gang is steering up things we hear matey," added Masterson "and of course, as it's in your interest, Sadly, as you are a law abiding citizen, to keep me informed. The name we are listening for is Masi?"
"Masi, errm " Soloman pauses. "yep I believe they are a tribe and not a gang sir. I can't ever, ever recall hearing that name for a gang, or in dat matter, seeing or hearing of any new gangs by that name around here." the old man concluded holding his chin.
"A young man was shot fatally this evening. Confrontation we believe taking place around the Park here. Now we have interests in reports of a very tall Somali boy or man. Some would have us believe as tall as myself, ha..." Masterson sniggers contempt at any thought "but you do know what will happen Soloman. If we do not find answers and if there are any repeats of this.?" Concluding with a nod in front of the old man, Masterson snarls as he retreats along with his men back to the reinforced transit outside.
Soloman Sadly Brown breathes a sigh of relief.
For one thing was sure, he had no idea why Mainland Masterson saw him as a highway to the youth gangs. The old man kept himself too himself these days, although he always found time for those who enquired after good advice.
He'd also lied, because Solomon Sadly Brown had heard the name Massiya as a gang , but that was many years ago. What concerned him now, was why Merseyside's Bad Boys in Blue would be interested in that sort of thing.
"Was it Sun Massiya ..." muttered Soloman to himself, as his mind began to recall Rufus Turntable's conversation prior to the local Police arrival.
"No Rufus!" muttered Soloman, "they are a war tribe... Sun Masiya Massinga, existed in the darkest days of Africa they did."
Soloman knew his history and in his old age could remember quite fresh stories recited by his fathers, fathers and great grandfather when he was only a child. He was quite sure now, that he was alone as his inner thoughts continued.
"A very tall and very dark skinned race that had been hand chiseled for war. They sent utter panic through out the Africanised world enslaving many and driven by an evil. Driven by a Pharaoh whose name was never to be revealed..."
Soloman Sadly Brown had never experienced a heart attack. But what suddenly struck him jolted his whole inner body, knocked him of balance and crashing to the floor beneath his service counter. Soloman Sadly Brown was luckily unconscious, before hitting the hard floor.
