daddy in jail

the little boy was holding a 2x3 photo of a large black man dressed in blue. he was built, forearms and shoulders stretching the fabric of his jumpsuit, a wide grin under beard. eyes piercing beneath his dreads. he looked just like the crude pictures this 5th grader had drawn, a mix of squares, rectangle and line hunched over in solid colors. behind him and the open green of grass stood the gray brown towers, the bars, and wire. his father was in prison.

ma daddy sent me this picture. he always be writin me.

this boy is the best writer in the group of 20, and the images he throws on paper sometimes threaten to stand up and breathe crayola color into the classroom, wreak a hurricane, and stomp out the door to face the city. the kid truly has a natural talent. and now he is showing me his world in kodak. photo framed by pink of his palm.

yep. he always be writin and stuff. he in california. i visited him last year.

i don't know what to say about dad in jail. i focus on the familiar. the writing.

so. what do you guys write about?

oh, he be talkin about history and stuff. he say always study yo history, and he talk about africa, how we was kings and queens, and how we was slaves. yup, he know a whole lot of stuff.

wow. well, that's good. that's good that you write back and forth and stuff.

uh huh. he say i need to learn to write better.

well, looks like you're doing a pretty good job.

the other boys at his table are leaning over looking at dad in jail.

damn. that nigga swole. he in cali?

yeah

my cousin in cali.

another voice cuts in

you know tyvonne? that boy in 206?

yeah, that big fo'head boy.

yeah. his daddy in cali too. in the joint

no he ain't. uh, i think it was joliet

o.k. you guys, what about your writing assignments? you can write about this if you want, but remember, you gotta write something.

i'm walking from their table, and i still see that small picture in that small hand. the boys lips were smiling. he said: that's my daddy.

- Tyehimba Jess