A Struggle Of A Mountain Man by Ferrice Spiceson

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of, or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expanding the voices and sharing personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the healing process of drafting, revising, and publishing memoirs, participants develop selfreflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, and positive self-projection to author new life narratives.

With support from Chicago CRED, ConTextos works with New Mount Pilgrim MB Church’s MAAFA Redemption Project. MAAFA’s mission is to significantly improve the quality of life for young men of color and their families on West Garfield Park providing dormitory-style residential support, workforce training, personal/spiritual-development, and a host of wrap-around social services. The embedded ConTextos Authors Circle provides a synergistic space of reflection, connection and healing growth as authors continue to forge new life chapters.

The powerful memoirs from the 2021-2022 MAAFA Author Circle complicate myopic, monolithic narratives and include an array of Sankofa Stories, transformative experiences and vibrant insights of young men on the West Side of Chicago.

I am from violence and struggle From McDonalds and Pizza Hut I am from the westside of Chicago.

Intelligent, Brave, Often stay to myself.

I am from the Evergreen tree family, Where we have everlasting life.

I am from doctors and hardworkers, Where giving up isn’t an option.

I am from Antoinette and Freddie, I am from the wise and the confident.

From “You can become whatever you put your mind to.”

And “never let anything stop your growth.”

I’m from the praises of the Lord So therefore, I had to stay on the course.

I’m from Mount Sinai and the land of the Wind.

A memoir is a personal narrative that shares reflections, insights and transformative experiences of an author’s life journey.

It was September 11, 2021. That’s the day when I thought my life was over, after I got shot in my right leg. Before I even got shot, I just had a gut feeling that today wasn’t my day. It was about 8:30 am, and I had woke up in a bad mood.

I really didn’t have plans on going outside that day, but my brother wanted me to go outside with him. As we were headed to the ‘Block,’ we had an altercation with some people where I almost had gotten shot then, but an older man out of the crowd yelled out, “Naw y’all, we thought y’all was somebody else.” 30 minutes earlier somebody had gotten shot right around the corner.

Me and my brother walked off and went to the block. As soon as we arrived on the block my homie said,”Be on point” because one of the opps inboxed him saying that they were about to come shoot up the block. I really wasn’t that concerned because there was about 7 guys on the block who had blicks. I walked around the corner to get weed and squares. As I was walking back through the lot, I stopped to adjust myself. When I emerged from the lot, I looked to my left and my right. On my left side was my homies, and on my right side there was somebody on the corner on their knees. At the time I thought it was one of my homies because they played a lot.

So, I turned back to the left to ask them who was that, but before I could finish my question, shots rang out. Next thing you know, I felt a pain in my leg; it felt like a rock just hit my leg. I turned back towards the shooter, as return shots rang out that prevented the shooter from running up. When I turned back, I seen 3 people shooting at me. I then glanced to my side and only seen 1 person shooting back at them. At that moment, I didn’t realize I was shot because I was too hyped. Once I realized I was hit, I almost instantly got filled with anger.

My brother and friend were yelling at me saying,”Sit yo ass down, and calm down you making your blood flow out more.” So I sat down and began to call people. The first call I made was to the police. All I said was,”I’m shot on 3600 block of Lexington,” then hung up. Next, I remember an emotional phone call with my mom. It was emotional because as soon as I heard her voice, I started crying only because I didn’t know if I was going to see or hear her voice again.

My mom knew something was wrong before I even told her. She said,”Calm down, and tell me what’s wrong?” I told her I was shot, and I love her and hung up. At that point, my brother and friends began to lift me up and put me in the car. Once in the car, I continued to call my brothers. I called my older brother Rewonis, and said, “I’m shot” and also hung up. I called my brother Jerome, and yelled,”I’m shot big bro on Twan it’s on,” then hung up. The last call I made was to my girlfriend before my friends took my phone.

On the way to the hospital, the police had stopped our car because they thought we was the ones shooting until they heard me in the backseat screaming,”Let us. Tf go. I’m shot, damn!” Once at the hospital, I didn’t know if I was gone survive or not because I got shot at 10:30 or so in the morning but didn’t go into surgery until 1 pm. This event was so life changing because I almost lost my life and wasn’t nobody but my family on my side. None of my friends, besides the 3 friends that stayed after I got shot, ever checked up on me. That was eye opening because those who I would risk my life and freedom for, wasn’t on my side supporting me on my journey to recovery.

My journey to recovery wasn’t easy. I was told it would take me 2-3 months to walk again because I had a broken knee and pieces of my bone was gone.

Also I had severe permanent nerve damage. At first, I wanted to give up but I thought about my sons and who all was going to do the things I do for them. That motivated me to try to walk everyday and exercise my leg in anyway I could. About 2 days after being shot, I was walking with a walker around the hospital floor. My nurses and doctors were shocked by my progress.

Eventually, it took me 3 weeks to start walking on my own, and I was proud because it was way sooner than expected. The road to recovery was bumpy, but I managed to beat the odds and overcome it. Going through that journey gave me a different perspective about life. I knew I needed to change before I ended up in the same situation, or something even worse. I needed to leave the streets and all negative influences alone. I have put my trust in God, and allowed him to lead me in the direction that I needed to head instead of the direction that I wanted to go.

Sankofa is a word from the Ghanian Twi language meaning “Go back and get it.” “Sankofa teaches us that we must go back to our roots in order to move forward. That is, we should reach back and gather the best of what our past has to teach us, so that we can achieve our full potential as we move forward. Whatever we have lost, forgotten, forgone or been stripped of can be reclaimed, revived, preserved and perpetuated.”* *UIC African American Studies Department

I was only 14 years old when I lost one of the most influential people in my life. His name was Antoine, and he was my oldest cousin but acted more like my big brother, or father. Antonie was my mentor, protector, provider, teacher, and my best friend all in one. The day he died places back in my head daily. I was young, and confused about what had happened because I only had one death before he passed, and I was only 7 when that had happened. It was March 28, 2013 when he passed.

I was in disbelief because just hours earlier, he was texting me telling me to get back on my stuff and get out the streets because he feared that I was on the exact same path that he was on. The last thing he told me was, “Get yo life together lil bro, I don’t want to have to bury you for something stupid.”

But who could have known that would be my last time hearing yo voice. It was around 3pm when my body started to act weird, and I got angry about nothing and decided to go home. When I got home, my mom was gone so I had to call her because I left my keys and was locked out. I knew something was wrong instantly once my mom declined my call and texted me, “I need to tell you something.”

When I called her back, she told me Antoine was gone. Not knowing what she meant, I asked her, “when was he here? Why didn’t he tell me?” She said, “No Ferrice, Antoine is gone. Your cousin was just kilt. My heart dropped and I collapsed, and fell down the flight of stairs and balled up in the hallway corner crying. I was hurt, and upset, and didn’t know how to really feel because this is the 1st time that I’ve experienced something like this.

His legacy continues…

Even though he is no longer with us physically, he moves with me daily. He keeps my temper and anger in check. I’m also sticking to that promise I made him when I said I was gone do. Become better and to keep the family united as one because family was key for him.

I just wish he was here to see his son and my kids grow into what we used to be.

I’ve always wanted to become a doctor.

I’ve always wanted to see a completely peaceful world.

I would go to Africa to see the places our ancestors lived.

I’m looking forward to my kids getting older.

A goal I have is to finish college.

I want to see people actually getting along, And working together for good things.

My legacy will be to promote peace and leave the drama alone.

I will leave behind businesses to my kids That will develop world peace.