Painting Pictures

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

The Soy Autor writing process 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 positive opportunities that nourish the minds, ideas and words of the underserved and underestimated.Through the process of drafting, revising, illustrating and publishing memoirs, the Authors’ Circle develops reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, conflict resolution and positive self-projection.

In collaboration with:

Chicago CRED

Painting Pictures Arion Askew

As I step up to the mound I’m frustrated because we’re down by four.

Bottom of the fifth inning. I’m in a slump. Coach yelling from the side of the dugout, “Watch the catcher!” I shake my head in disagreement. I pitched the ball, fly ball left. Something that was routine for us. My boy Reese go up and moss the catch. He was making plays all game so we could catch up.

As I settle in before I pitched again the refs start blowing their whistles. I turn around and my boy Reese was on the ground.

He was tryna move but he couldn’t do nothing with the coaches trying to help him.

Everybody including the other team went over to see what was going on. Bro laying on the ground saying he just needed some water. We thought he was good until I turned around and seen him on the ground with his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

They ran into Fernwood field house for help. The fucked up part about it was they didn’t have a respirator or nothing there. We had to wait for the ambulance to get there. Reese sitting there with his eyes closed and everything. I’m just knowing something was wrong, just by how the day felt and what was going on at that moment.

When the ambulance got there they put him in the truck and then the truck got stuck. We had to help them get the truck out so they could get to Christ hospital. After they left, my OG came and got me. I told her what was going on.

She couldn’t believe it. She took me up to Christ hospital and it was packed with people from both teams and his uncle and his grandmother. I’ll never forget hearing his grandmother scream when they took her to the back.

I broke down bad later that night after I left the hospital. And note: I’m only 14 years old going through all this. I wake up the next morning all fucked up. The school said that students didn’t have to come in that day cause a lot of people was hurting.

I went up there so I could talk to the dude that from WGN news. I told him what happened and what my homie passing away meant to the neighborhood and his family. The thing I realized was people who didn’t rock with my boy was crying. That’s what really made me realize how much bro death affected people.

I went to his grandmother crib later that day where he stayed at just to see how his lil bro was doing. And her. She broke down to me and I didn’t know what to say. I know how much he meant to his family. Bro was going to make it out. He had people in his life that protected him and made sure he stayed away from the street shit.

If I had somebody like his uncle in my life at that time I wouldn’t have been getting in so much trouble. I took his brother outside.

He was only about eight years old at the time.

That was pro’lly one of the hardest things I had to do in my life, telling shorty yo brother in a better place and I’m here for you. I be yo brother. Just let me know if you need anything. Sitting there on that warm humid day I just visualized if I was in Maurice’s shoes and my lil brother was left out here alone and the one person who protected me was gone. That day on Parnell, I would never forget.

His funeral came up that next week. After school was over, later that day around seven, everybody went up there to the church. I got there early. News people there taking pictures of my boy laying in that casket. I’m young asl not knowing that wouldn’t be the last time I see one of my guys in a coffin.

I’ll never forget how cold that church was before all them people filled it up. Seeing Maurice’s brother and sisters crying was so fucked up. I thought I knew everything about Maurice but seeing all them people at his service and hearing how he touched they lives made me think what would people think of me if I died that day? How many lives would I have touched and who really cared about me?

We head to the cemetery. The day just felt painful. We got there.

I walked up to the hearse with his uncle and brothers. I put the white gloves on, got a tight grip on the silver rail on the casket.

I’ll never forget the sound of his body moving in that casket, something that will forever be in my memory. As they put the casket down in the ground his whole family just broke down crying and just made that more unforgettable.

Bro had the brightest future of anybody that I graduated with that year.

After his funeral ended, we carried his casket out the church. That next day in the morning it was raining heavy outside. I headed up to the funeral home because it was time for his burial. They gave everyone a last time to see him and the pallbearers white gloves, one of which I still have till this day.

I learned a lot from Maurice’s death though. You want to leave a legacy while you here cause you only get one life. Bro could’ve been a NFL and his life was gone just like that. It made me appreciate my life more and made me grow up faster, and all the people who didn’t really rock with like I did that just showed me how much fake love is out here in this world.

People don’t really care about you till you gone. Eight years later and I’m at a viewing for a friend of mine that grew with me and Maurice. He was killed and they killed his baby mother who was pregnant with his daughter. Too many memories ran through my head just sitting there in the viewing room with his father and his mother, knowing that him and Maurice are gone. I feel blessed to still be here but at the same time its pain I won’t never show. Just something I will take to the grave with me.

So to whoever is reading this: cherish your life because the next day isn’t promised. 2017 has been a year of light for me. Just being able to meet the first black president, a man that gave so many people hope and inspired this generation to be great, just made me find myself even more and gave me more confidence.

Being able to go see Maurice’s grandmother that same day and she got pictures of him in her house, just seeing how happy she was for me was one of the most memorable moments of my life.

I am Arion Askew I am from Englewood.

From Broken Dreams and Broken Homes.

I am from the gutter.

Drugs, single mom, hot summer days.

I am from the concrete.

A rose that is still growing.

I’m from the Forth of July and Cook Outs.

From Beartha Hayes and Allonte Askew.

I am from negativity and criticism.

From “Protect your brother” and “Protect yourself.”

I’m from spirituality and self-awareness.

From Chicago and Haiti.

I’m from chicken and pasta.

From the birthplace of the Jordan era.