CHAPTER 4
Sometimes the violence around me followed me even when I tried to avoid it.
There were nights when gang fights broke out near the warehouse where I slept. More than once, I got injured from being caught in the crossfire between rival groups.
Other homeless girls survived by prostituting themselves.
But I couldn't bring myself to do that.
Not after what I had already been through.
Life was hard, Sir.
Extremely hard.
I kept moving from one place to another, desperately searching for work, but no one would hire me. I had no qualifications, no documents, nothing that made me valuable in society's eyes.
One Saturday afternoon, I was washing a car that belonged to an Asian woman.
She had offered to pay me two pounds if I cleaned it well.
So I cleaned it exceptionally well.
While I was finishing up, the woman walked into a nearby store. When she returned, she came back carrying a small bag of food.
She held it out to me.
I hesitated.
Growing up the way I did had taught me one important lesson:
Nothing in this world is free.
People always expect something in return.
But the woman—who I later learned was named Ms. Jaa—seemed to read my thoughts.
She smiled gently and said it was simply her way of appreciating the work I had done.
I hadn't eaten a proper meal in a very long time.
So I accepted it.
She stood there quietly while I devoured the food like a starving wolf.
After I finished eating, she asked me what I was doing on the streets.
For a moment, I didn't know how to answer.
No one had ever asked me that question before.
She was the first person—aside from my mother—to actually care enough to ask about my life.
Slowly, I told her everything.
About my mother.
About the Atkinsons.
About the streets.
By the time I finished, tears had filled her eyes.
She told me everything would be alright.
Then she asked me to meet her at the same place the next day at noon.
I agreed.
The next day, I arrived exactly where we had met before.
She was already there waiting for me.
Ms. Jaa reached into a bag and pulled out a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of shoes.
I quickly changed into them.
For the first time in years, I actually looked presentable.
Then she took me out to eat.
I thanked God for bringing her into my life.
As we sat eating, she asked me a question that changed my entire future.
"Do you want a job?" she asked.
"A respectable life?"
I had been living on the streets for nearly two years.
Opportunities like that didn't come often.
So I accepted immediately.
That same day, I moved into her house.
Ms. Jaa owned several hotels in eight different countries. She asked if I would prefer working at one of them in London or if I wanted to go somewhere else.
I knew I couldn't stay in South London anymore.
Too many memories.
Too much pain.
So I told her I wanted to go somewhere far away.
I told her I wanted to go to America.
Luckily for me, she owned two hotels there.
There was just one problem.
I had no birth certificate.
No passport.
No official identity.
But Ms. Jaa handled everything.
Within two weeks, she had organized all the necessary documents for me.
Soon after, she booked my flight.
After several hours in the air, we finally landed in America — the land of opportunities.
We went straight to one of her hotels.
That same day, she gave me a job as part of the housekeeping staff.
The salary was more than reasonable.
She even rented an apartment for me and paid six months of rent in advance.
When she handed me the keys, tears filled my eyes.
For so long, I had believed I would spend the rest of my life sleeping on the streets.
But now everything was changing.
Ms. Jaa truly felt like a blessing sent by God.
After making sure I was settled, she returned to the United Kingdom.
The apartment she left me in was fully furnished.
Everything I could possibly need was already there.
Furniture.
Appliances.
Even a wardrobe filled with beautiful new clothes.
That night I took a long, cool bath.
Then I slept like a baby.
My new job started the following week.
During my free time, I began familiarizing myself with Philadelphia.
The staff at the hotel were kind and welcoming.
But despite everything that had changed in my life, one thing remained the same.
I still couldn't look a white person directly in the eyes.
I was too afraid.
Afraid of what I might see.
Afraid of what my mother had once been afraid of seeing.
Work at the hotel wasn't overwhelming because we had shifts and a large staff.
Eventually, I made friends.
Sometimes we had lunch together.
Other times we went fishing.
Life slowly started to feel normal.
I learned how to drive and eventually got my driver's license.
After saving enough money, I even bought my first car.
At that point in my life, I believed nothing would ever disturb my peace again.
I was happy.
The only thing missing was my mother.
I often wished she could see what her daughter had become.
A strong, stable young Black woman.
Someone she could be proud of.
One of my favorite hobbies became horse riding.
Most weekends, I spent my time at the Del Hunco Ranch learning how to ride.
There was something about sitting on a horse that awakened a strange power inside me.
Whenever I mounted a horse, I felt unstoppable.
Like a reigning baroness.
The Del Hunco ranch employed many workers, most of them Black.
My riding instructor was a man named Matthew.
He taught me everything I needed to know about horses.
But then the day arrived that I still regret to this day.
A cursed day.
A day I wish had never happened.
I arrived at the stables one morning to learn how to feed and clean a horse.
But Matthew wasn't there.
Someone told me he had been replaced for the day.
A tall white man approached me.
His name was Taylor.
He was introduced as the one who would be teaching me that day.
We completed the lessons, and all that remained was for me to take the horse for a ride.
I mounted the stallion.
And suddenly my mother's final words came back to me.
Taylor stood beside the horse, holding the reins steady.
For the first time in my life, I looked a white man directly in the eyes.
And I didn't flinch.
Something powerful burned inside me.
An authority I had never felt before.
An unstoppable force.
I studied his face for a moment.
I had to admit something.
God had taken time when creating him.
He had a symmetrical face, a strong jawline, and deep blue eyes.
But still…
Nothing a Black man couldn't match.
The ride eventually ended, and I returned home.
Later that evening, Matthew called me.
He told me he was leaving for Haiti.
Taylor would now be my instructor.
I didn't necessarily need more training, but I agreed anyway.
Matthew had already taught me most of what I needed to know, but I wanted to sharpen the skills he had given me.
Still…
I didn't like the idea of being taught by a white man.
It didn't sit right with me.
But there was nothing I could do.
Although…
The thought of a white man technically working for me at the ranch was strangely satisfying.