The Sweetest Jewish Mango

By Winifred Hament

A journey from death to life, from sadness to joy, being poor in the spirit to being rich in my soul. I've gone to great lengths to find the truth. I've opened many doors and looked for love in all the wrong places. Now I know where true love is!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Sep 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798765225677

Winifred Hament

My name is Winifred Irene Hament, also known as “Shamah”. I am a daughter, sister, mother, grandmother, ordained minister and a child of God. I’m a woman of vision because without It I might not be standing where I am today telling my story. The road I traveled at times seemed devastating to my mind and broken to my soul. I found myself in places that sometimes you only see in movies and are thankful that it is not your reality. I have dealt with hate, drugs, abortion, rape, death and life. You must die to your past so you can breath new life. I wouldn’t change my past because each trial and tribulation has helped my growth spiritually. My God is an awesome God. He has prepared me for such a time as this. I didn’t believe I was capable of writing a book and ten years later this is now my reality. It only takes one heart to keep you on the path. Everyone has a story to tell. This is mine and apparently now I am an author. God is Love -Winifred Hament

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Copyright © 2022 Winifred Shamah Hament.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version.

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical

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Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Interior Image Credit: Charles R. Griffiths

ISBN: 979-8-7652-2565-3 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-2566-0 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-2567-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022903611

Balboa Press rev. date: 07/06/2022

Dedication

To God, who has a sense of humor. His materials have become my words. To my beloved father, who always encouraged me to write a book. To Brahsheedah, who pushed me beyond where I wanted to go, for having faith in what I could not see. To Pastor Ted and his wife, Mary, who always said, You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. To my blessed children: Orahkeeyah Elohim, Joshuah Elohim, Brahsheedah Elohim, and Aiyanah Elohim. You are my encouragement. To my awesome family, Tina, Daniel, Nancy, and Babe. Our love runs deep. To my best friend, Joan. We have been through life, and in faith, it will only get better. To my beloved prayer partner Sarah, whose constant work helped me finish my story. To my sister in Christ, Jeanne who saw the end from the beginning of my story and contacted the publisher before it was done. To my beautiful daughters-in-laws, Olga thank you for your generous heart. Michelle, your children’s stories are waiting to be told. Chaffon, I expect greatness from you. To my dear friend Janet, who helps bring laughter throughout our lives. To my awesome grandchildren, Savion, Elijah, Mariah, Isaiah, Hezekiah, Kyrah, Ariah, Kassius, Kaiyel and Jaylah. If I can do this, so can you. To my fabulous nieces, Amelia, Molly, Olivia, Avalon, Kaya, and Matt. Remember your roots. To Candice, for a great smile and encouraging words. To my handsome son-in-law Kristian. Thank you for bringing twins into the Elohim tribe. To my adopted son Recardo, much love. To my sister-in-law Sheila, for showing me that a rabbit can run free like a cat. Also, to Brother Paul and Sister Laniya. Sing forth his Word! Amen.

Contents

Introduction to the Author

Chapter 1 The Beginning

Chapter 2 Tilly

Chapter 3 Augustus

Chapter 4 Frances

Chapter 5 Billy Went to Heaven

Chapter 6 Got Caught

Chapter 7 Changed Heart

Chapter 8 The Last of the Romantics

Chapter 9 Jump-Start

Chapter 10 Each Morning Thrilled Me

Chapter 11 A Different Direction

Chapter 12 Dread Natty Dreadlocks

Chapter 13 Another Ride Home

Chapter 14 Playing Righteous

Chapter 15 Grass Shack

Chapter 16 Faith

Chapter 17 Chalice (Pipe) in the Palace

Chapter 18 The Day I Met I Am

Chapter 19 The Name of Elohim

Chapter 20 Burn Her

Chapter 21 The Preparation

Chapter 22 The Sweetest Mango

Chapter 23 It’s a Lion

Chapter 24 Dangling Charlie

Chapter 25 Flinging Dreads

Chapter 26 Sent Home

Chapter 27 God Never Gives You More Than You Can Handle

Chapter 28 Bull and Bread

Chapter 29 Defeated

Chapter 30 The Blood Squirted All Over

Chapter 31 My First Trip

Chapter 32 Aiyanah Takili

Chapter 33 Costa Rica

Chapter 34 What Have I Done?

Chapter 35 A New Star

Chapter 36 Go behind Bars

Chapter 37 Went to the Enemy’s Camp

Chapter 38 Went to the Enemy’s Camp

Chapter 39 Went to the Enemy’s Camp

Chapter 40 The Enemy’s Camp

Chapter 41 Spirit of Deborah

Chapter 42 The House on 212

Chapter 43 Resurrection Power

Chapter 44 I Went to Heaven

Chapter 45 God’s Choice—Our Patience

Chapter 46 God Calls His Warriors

Chapter 47 It’s a Setup

Chapter 48 I Fell in Love

Chapter 49 Old-Time Religion

Chapter 50 If My People

Chapter 51 Hezekiah Is Here

Chapter 52 Crossing Over

Chapter 53 I Am Forgiven

Chapter 54 Good and Faithful Servant

Chapter 55 A New Sound

Chapter 56 The Race of Life

Chapter 57 Do You Trust Me?

Chapter 58 Bagabag, the Other Side of the World

Chapter 59 Vessel Seen, Treasure Hidden

Chapter 60 Tortola

Chapter 61 Walking down the Aisle

Chapter 62 A Completed Jew

Chapter 63 The Unexpected

About the Author

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My beautiful tribe (Joshua, Orahkeeyah, Aiyanah, Brahsheedah)

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Joshua’s family (Elijah, Josh, Michelle, Mariah)

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Orahkeeyah’s family (Isaiah, Chaffon, Orah, Savion)

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Brahsheedah, Hezekiah and Aiyanah; Sisterly love

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My beautiful grandson Elijah and my lovely

sisters (Barbara, Nancy, Me and Tina)

Introduction to the Author

To the one and only Winifred Irene Hament, a.k.a. Shamah. Who knows? Where should I begin? My mother was a certified drug dealer. When I say certified, I mean she had the plastic bags in my closet, one filled with large Ziplock bags of marijuana and the other with bills no smaller than twenties. As a child, seeing that never caused any fear; it was the opposite. I am not ashamed to say that I took money from my mother. I considered it more of a bank loan that one day I would eventually pay back. I soon became the godfather of snack time in elementary school. Back then, I did not understand that money was power, until I bought snacks for twenty-five and fifty cents. My classmates would come running like I was giving away free fifty-inch-screen TVs. Now that I look back, I would say that I was more of a Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. I thank my mother for allowing me to see both sides of the world. Due to her teaching, today I have more respect for money and how to utilize it.

My mother liked to say she wasn’t the smartest cookie. I would tell her, For one, you were always good at math. And clearly you were street-smart, because you never got caught and you were able to provide for four kids being a single mother. I can honestly say that there was never a day we went without, but plenty of days we were not happy with what she put on the table. We grew up as vegetarians, not by choice but living the Rastafarian beliefs and lifestyle. We bled red, gold, and green! I believe at one point every T-shirt and sweater my brothers and I owned had those colors on them. I would like to have a moment of silence for all the lunches that my mother slaved to make at six thirty in the morning for my brothers and me, which we would throw away because the school lunches tasted like heaven on earth. My mother really committed to every part of being a Rastafarian, living off the land and having dreadlocks, her beliefs, the way she spoke (to this day, if someone calls from the Virgin Islands, in the blink of an eye, her heavy accent comes back, and I just laugh), and making our clothes. She would find fabric and go to work, making the boys T-shirts with matching shorts and me the matching dress. One fabric, one family was her motto. My mother really took pride in her creations.

As we got older, she wanted to give her children something that they could have forever. She made us quilts. All the stitching, cutting, and design was done by hand and her creative eye (no measurements). She worked very hard on all four quilts, and each one was designed specifically for each child. We all loved them very much. We grew up with them and then took them to college. We all knew how much they meant to her and how hard she had worked on each one. So, I am very sad to say that one day Winnie and I got into a fight, and I gave mine to the thrift store. Clearly now I know it was a mistake, but I was young. So, we should look at the positive side and know that the beautiful quilt that she put her heart into is keeping someone else extremely warm and creating a whole new chapter in their life. So maybe I’m not really that sorry, because I helped someone else. Hopefully my mother can see that too.

I know it was never easy for my mother growing up. She stands 5'7 on a good day, while her brother and sisters are all six-foot-and-above stick figures. She was the black sheep of the family, different in every aspect of the Jewish stereotype. I believe the beauty of a stereotype is that at its core, it is meant to be broken. The adversity that she endured was real and helped make her the leader she is today. To whom much is given, much will be required." If you ask me or most people, that is from Spiderman, but it is also from the Bible, Luke 12:48.

My mother was given the gift of love and helping others. As a teenager, it was hard trying to understand why she would help mentally challenged adults or go to shelters and prisons to help otherwise forgotten children. I never understood until she brought me along. I will say that I was scared, but when I looked at her, she did not miss a beat. She told me, You always have to be conscious of your environment, but looking at her, she seemed so at ease. My mother always says, God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). I have never quoted a Bible scripture in my life, and that was two in fewer than eight sentences, so she is probably smiling right now.

My mother is different, but in my mind, who wants to be the same? I don’t, and that is what I have taken from her. You need to be who you are regardless of who is watching in the dark or the light. She tells me to be the head and not the tail. I have tried working for others and have gotten fired from most jobs, so she was right! I needed to be the head and a leader. I believe every situation is for a purpose. God puts roadblocks on our journey to see if we can still find our way. I don’t always find the right route, but my support system, starting from the leader of our tribe (my mom), has always been there to uplift me. My mother has always been the mother and father. I have a great deal of respect for who she is and what she has done and will continue to do for our family and anyone else she comes in contact with. This book is just a small part of who she is and what she will accomplish. It reopened many long-closed doors, but she overcame all adversity and had the strength to just start writing. The first step is always the hardest. Faith is daring to the soul, to go beyond what the eyes can see. That is tattooed on my wrist, and I truly believe it! I have always believed in this book, regardless of how long it took to get here. We are here. At one point, she sent a package to me in California with 150 pieces of paper written in script with cross-outs and arrows, followed by the grand finale (hold your applause.) It was a machine / cassette player that had a remote foot pedal so I could type this book while listening to her voice. At times, I wanted to kill her, and at times, I was shocked by what I was hearing.

The truth is I am so proud of the process. I have learned things that I never knew about you. It takes courage to reveal yourself to the world and to put yourself out there, but this is who you are. You are a living testament to the world, especially to your children. Elohim is Love (another tattoo). You may have gone to the top of a mountain to smoke a spliff (a joint), but the message was as clear as the day you received it. The Elohim’s are alive and well, and you have just planted the seed. Now, it’s time to watch us grow. I love you, Winifred Irene Hament, a.k.a. Shamah, Shams, Shaba.

—Brahsheedah Nyzula Elohim (her favorite daughter)

Just kidding, Aiyanah. She loves you too, and you are not adopted, Muah.

Chapter 1

The Beginning

I am the second of six children born of my mother and father. It is said that the middle child is always the difficult one. I was the different one. I was called many names growing up. The rest of my sisters and brothers were very tall and thin. I was shorter and fatter. My brother Daniel called me hippo. My oldest sister was a stick and kept that name throughout college. It was hard being compared to her. I knew no other person named Winifred, so the first day of school when attendance was called, it was always a lot of fun. The looks and laughs were horrifying. My parents called me Winnie. Tina called me Wilfred, Daniel, hippo, and I called myself fat. In my teenage years, pimples were added to my already defeated impression of myself. Tina and I had beautiful, dark, curly hair like my dad’s.

I never liked to read growing up, so I found myself in the slower classes at school. I thought, Why read about other people’s adventures when I could just have my own? Junior high was even more of a challenge, trying to read longer books and write reports. My mother tried to help me by sending me to a Catholic Saturday reading program. I already hated going to school five days a week—now Saturdays? There were nuns