Breaking the Silence

by Kenzell Evans

Overview

A Dickensian Family and a racist Criminal Justice System have blown my life off course. How I prevailed over the long haul is my bizarre, gut-wrenching story. The travesty of having my freedom snatched away will haunt me to my grave.

I became my own lawyer to challenge a double life plus 15 year sentence and I talked to animals for companionship and used a city dump as a clothing store to outfit myself when my family tossed me out in the cold.

I had to use my brain power to fight calamities rather than get the diploma I wanted in business management. I'm still ashamed of being falsely accused.

This is a horror story of a wrecked life and a focused mind.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781477256381
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	12/03/2012
Pages:	234
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.53(d)

Read an Excerpt

Breaking the Silence

---

By Kenzell Evans

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Kenzell Evans
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-5638-1

---

Chapter One

THE BACKBONE

The North Carolina town of Hamlet, just six miles south of Rockingham, had three traffic lights in the center of town. It was segregated and had a population of about 4,000. There were a lot of black churches and three schools for the blacks. There were more schools for the whites and they were bus to and from school. The blacks had to walk. There were more whites than blacks, and the whites owned everything.

A fairly typical southern country town, it sits on mostly flat land, with a few hills here and there, as well as lakes, lots of pine trees, and dirt roads. Outside of town were the farms, with mostly tobacco and cotton fields.

The stores were downtown on Hamlet Ave. and Main Street. On Hamlet Ave. were a barber shop, a beauty parlor, a pool hall for whites, a cafe, a furniture store, a general store, and a clothing store. Down on Main Street was a little hotel, a small movie theater, and a hardware store. Across the street were a five and dime store, and a shoe store to name a few. Further up was the police station, the fire station, and a gas station. The icehouse, the bus station, and the fish house were around the corner.

Merchants pulled up in either a horse and buggy or a horse and wagon to do their shopping, getting what supplies they needed. There were a few cars around too.

Across the railroad tracks was a pool hall for blacks, and up from that was the train station. The main feature that distinguished Hamlet from many other small southern towns was that it was the largest train depot in the area, a very busy one too, and the only one for miles around. It was the hub, with trains running in all four directions. When a train stopped there, whites would use the front entrance, blacks the rear. In fact, they were not allowed to enter the front of any establishment. Trains often remained there for a good while, for cars to be added or disconnected, repairs to be made, and supplies to be replenished.

The people of Hamlet and the surrounding area kept busy. Of course, the whites always got the best jobs.

Fort Bragg was about 65 miles from Hamlet. The soldiers stationed there spent a lot of time in Hamlet, as did those in transit to or from Fort Bragg. All during World War II it was an exciting place for the troops, a place where they could go and have a good time, and that kept business booming. The soldiers loved it, and the townspeople welcomed them.

Hamlet had become a party town. In the '40s and '50s it was the place to be. There were bars and clubs everywhere, with lots of drinking and dancing going on. You could get just about anything you wanted. There were lots of bootleggers who dealt in home brew or corn liquor. They would go to the train depot, patiently wait around for a train to come in, and then approach the folks who were alighting from it and try to make a sale.

I was raised by my grandparents, Emma and Bruce Evans. I grew up believing they were my parents, and nobody ever told me otherwise. I called them Mama and Papa. My name is Kenzell. I was born on Easter Sunday and they called me Barney.

My "parents" supported me and gave me lots of love. I was their youngest child, and much younger than the others, so they gave me more than my share of their attention.

Mama was a brown-skinned woman with a medium build, an oval-shaped face, thick eyebrows that nearly met, and rich hair. She was about 5'6" in height and weighed about 185 pounds. She was rather good looking and had class. She was neat and carried herself with grace and style. She wanted and loved nice things. One of her hobbies was stamp collecting. She had several books full of stamps. She was very particular about what she wore and wouldn't consider going out in public looking disheveled. She loved getting her hair done, and dressing up for church. She attended Second Baptist New Hope and was there every Sunday and always took me with her.

Papa worked for the Seaboard Railroad at the depot. He had light brown skin, a narrow-shaped face, and wavy hair. He was a handsome man, one who dressed nicely. His clothes were always pressed. He was about 5'7", had a slim frame, and weighed about 155 pounds. He was an easy-go-lucky guy, not having much to say except when he was away from the house.

There were eight of us, four girls, Pam, Nora, Lisa, and Peaches; and four boys, Bob, Steve, Roger, and me, none of whom was over 5'7". By the time I was seven, all but Peaches, Roger, and me had moved away, Bob, my oldest brother, left before I was born and joined the service. My oldest sister, Pam, was married and lived nearby with her husband Billy and their six children. Steve also lived nearby, with his wife Donna and their newborn son. Nora lived in Washington, D.C. with her husband Joe and their five children. Lisa moved to Charlotte, N.C., where she lived with her husband Frank and their three children.

We lived in the southern part of Hamlet, right at the edge of town, in a big wooden house. It had three bedrooms, a living room, an eat-in kitchen, and another room where Mama kept two freezer chests: one for ice cream, cakes, and pies, and one for meats, chicken, and fish. In that room there were also shelves stacked with food that she had jarred.

The house had front and back porches and an outhouse. We had a large pecan tree, several plum trees, an apple tree, and grapevines. We had two horses, a mule, a few cows, some hogs, lots of chickens, about three or four hound dogs, and Papa's cats.

During cotton-picking season, everybody who needed money picked cotton: most were blacks, young and old. I was too young to pull tobacco or pick cotton. Peaches and Roger would get up early in the morning and stand on the other side of the road with some other people, waiting for the white man to come with the bus that would pick them up and then drop them off late at night.

That was how some made their living. The young had to work as long as it took to get enough money to buy their school clothes. As a result, some of them didn't start school on time. Many of them didn't like that, but they had no choice.

Mama was the backbone of the family. She kept everything and everybody together and raised us to be that way. She was a giving and caring woman. She was strong and hard working.

Mama was a true farmer who knew how to live off the land. She grew her own vegetables on our 45-acre plot. All of us worked in the field and around the house.

She killed two hogs and a cow every year and made sure there was enough food to go around, not only for all her kids but also for relatives and close friends. She loved to eat. Her two favorites were pig's feet, and coconut cake with butter pecan ice cream.

Steve worked at the Butter Cup, an ice cream plant. He always brought ice cream to the house for Mama and kept her freezer filled with different flavors, all in five-gallon containers.

On one occasion she became ill, and Dr. Brown was called. He was a short, fat man who made house calls.

"Mrs. Evans, you know you have high blood pressure. Your pressure is very high right now, so I'm going to change your medication and you'll need to stay away from the pork and the salt shaker."

She just looked at him. Later that week, Mama was up on her feet again and eating everything as before.

When she got up in the morning she would come into my room and say,

"Barney, wake up, its time to get up."

In fact, she woke everybody up.

One of my chores was to gather eggs from the hen house every morning. Mama cooked breakfast and prepared lunch for everybody. On school days she'd give me some fruit and at least three biscuit sandwiches for my lunch. She'd pack a mix of biscuits from her repertoire: ham, mayonnaise and jelly, bacon, peanut butter and jelly, sausage and egg.

After seeing us off to school, she'd wash clothes and then go work in the field. When she came back to the house, she would jar up food and then go back outside and kill two or three chickens. She would pick and clean the chickens, cut them up, and start making dinner on her old steel stove. She was a mighty good cook and could prepare anything on that stove.

Mama believed in cleaning up. Before day's end she would go out and rake the yard. There was no grass, just a dirt yard. When she raked the dirt, there would be dust everywhere.

Constantly pushing me hard to do well in school, Mama helped me with my homework. She made me put my books under my pillow when I went to bed at night, and she quizzed me the next morning to make sure I remembered what I had studied. She was very strict with me when it came to school.

"You're very good in math and spelling. Make something out of your life, and try to be somebody. If you want something in life, work for it, and keep striving until you get it. Be strong. I love you. You're my baby."

One day in the middle of the second week of school, a boy in my classroom approached me.

"Do you want to sell one of your sandwiches? I'll give you a nickel for it."

"I'll sell you a sandwich."

He told a few other boys that I was selling sandwiches. I didn't mind. I figured that the more money I earned, the more candy and cookies I could buy at the store near the house. I began to look forward to selling sandwiches every day.

I tried to think of ways to get Mama to make me more sandwiches, and I would make some myself when she wasn't looking. It was near the end of the week when the boys suddenly stopped buying my sandwiches. I went to them and tried to find out why. They said they had no more money. One boy bought for a few more days, and then he stopped too.

One day Mama was summoned to the school. I had gotten into a fight with one of the boys because he had stopped buying my sandwiches. I told Mama that he had been teasing me about my hair and that he kept saying I had bees in my head.

"There's nothing wrong with your hair. It's rich, like mine. You just have to grease it and keep it brushed. I keep telling you that. If they hit you, you hit them back. And remember: Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you."

Papa didn't care to work in the field. When he wasn't at work at the train depot, he spent his time hunting and fishing or would go visit some of his friends. On those occasions Mama would say,

"Take Barney with you."

He and I would go see his co-workers and then his girlfriends. Before visiting the latter, he would say,

"Keep your mouth shut or I won't take you anywhere else with me."

I assured him that my lips were sealed.

He would buy me anything I wanted. Then before heading for home, we'd stop at the fish house.

He said, "Charlie, give me a pound of those fish heads."

"They're fresh, Bruce," said the proprietor.

Then Papa turned to me and said.

"This is for dinner."

"I'm not eating that mess."

He just chuckled.

When we got home he threw the bag of fish heads on the table and said, "I stopped and got some dinner."

Mama replied, "You mean you got your cats some dinner. We don't eat fish heads here, unless you want them for yourself."

The following morning, when I went to get the eggs, I saw that Mama had put the fish heads out for the cats. They were fighting over them. When I went back inside, I told Mama what I had seen.

"Mama, the cats are fighting over the fish heads."

"That's to be expected. They hadn't eaten in a few days. Your daddy said they're in training, so what you see is what you get. Those are his cats. I'm surprised they haven't killed one of his dogs."

"They're almost as big as the dogs are now."

"I know."

Papa wasn't a big drinker, but he had friends who were, so he'd make home brew and corn whiskey just for them. When it was ready he'd invite them over after work, usually on weekends. They would sit under the shade tree and drink. If Pam and Lisa were home, Papa's friends would sneak around the house when he wasn't looking and talk to them.

Sometimes he invited his drinking buddies to come over for dinner and tried to fill them up on watermelon. By the time dinner was ready they would be full. He thought he had them right where he wanted them, so he could get their money. They didn't seem to care as long as they had a chance to see his daughters.

Papa came home one day and broke the latest news to Mama.

"I heard that Dr. Brown passed away."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I heard he had health problems and that he died of a heart attack. He also had sugar diabetes and high blood pressure. Somebody mentioned a stroke too."

"And he was giving other people advice. He should have saved some of that for himself."

"Barney, come and help me hitch the horse up to the wagon so we can go into town to get supplies."

"Cut his hair before y'all leave."

"I was just about to do that."

Papa had a pair of dull hand clippers that he used to cut my hair, leaving patches of hair all over my head, but I didn't care as long as I got to go along. When he took me into town with him I always knew he would buy me something.

At one time Papa had a '38 Model-T Ford, the kind you cranked up in the front to get it started. He eventually got rid of it, but I wished he had kept it. He often said,

"I was tired of spending money on that damned thing, but I kept putting off getting rid of it. I just didn't want to walk to work."

We lived within easy walking distance of the train station, only half a mile or so.

Mama loved to travel, and since Papa worked for the railroad, she could ride the train free of charge. When she did, she took me with her. She always told people, "That's my baby. He's smart and does well in school. He's going to make something of himself."

Once or twice a year, she and I traveled by train to visit Lisa and Nora as well as Mama's brothers and some other relatives who lived in Petersburg, VA. and Baltimore, MD. She always took food for them, and always gave them a heads up by sending a card to let them know which day we would arrive. She never said how long we'd be staying.

Every time we went to Nora's place I immediately noticed the bugs. They were everywhere. I wasn't used to seeing that, and it startled me. It didn't seem to bother anyone of Nora's kids. One time I asked Mama about the bugs.

"Mama, what are those?"

"Be quiet."

A few hours after we arrived, Mama would say something to the effect that we couldn't stay long, claiming she had a lot of work to do when we got back home. It wasn't that she had anything in particular to do. She just didn't want to impose on Nora. Besides, there was nowhere for us to sleep at Nora's place, and there was no food in the house other than what Mama had brought along — for them and brought along for us.

"You haven't yet been here for six hours and you're ready to leave?"

"I know, but we've stayed longer than I had planned. You're not the only one I came to see."

"You said that the last time you were here."

"I'll stay longer next time, but I have to get back today."

On our way home Mama answered the question I had asked about the bugs.

"Those bugs are called roaches. I don't like them either, and I sure couldn't eat or sleep there with those bugs crawling around. That's why I packed enough food for you and me."

"I didn't like it there."

"Don't worry, baby, I wasn't about to stay there for long."

Mama died in 1957. I was only eight years old. I couldn't believe it. I was speechless. This was an extremely sad time for me. The tears constantly ran down my face. I wanted my Mama. I couldn't believe she was gone.

Roger said, "Now that Mama's gone, what are we going to do?"

Roger and I were the only two still living at home at that time. Peaches had gotten married and had two kids. She was living overseas with her husband John, who was in the service.

Some people came to the house to take Mama's body away. When they returned, her body was in a casket, which they placed in the living room. It had a smell that I'll never forget. She lay there with her eyes closed as if she were asleep.

During the next few days everybody in the family came home, including Peaches. They had prepared lots of food. Other relatives and some friends came by later and also brought food.

On the evening before the burial, even more people came in to see her. They were all sitting around, eating, drinking, and talking. It seemed as though nobody was leaving, perhaps because Papa had pulled out his home brew and corn whiskey. Peaches said,

"Barney, go into your room and go to bed."

I did, but I was unable to sleep. I felt alone. I lay there crying and thinking about my Mama, trying to understand why she was gone.

She died of cancer but had never told anyone she was sick. I hadn't suspected that there was anything wrong with her, for she was always busy doing something and never complained about a thing.

After everybody had left the house that night it was very quiet. The next morning we went out into the woods, where they buried her. Nothing was ever the same after that.

Peaches and her family left right after the funeral. The others left shortly thereafter, including Roger. He had been dating a girl from Durham. She had come to the funeral, and he went back with her. I was the only one who stayed home with Papa.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Breaking the Silence by Kenzell Evans Copyright © 2012 by Kenzell Evans. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---