Afro-Scot Short Story Collection: Afro-Scot

By Michael Uzoramaka Jonathan

Michael Uzor is a visual artist, gallery curator, tutor, writer, and author. This short story collection includes six short works and a play. The narratives show the author's progression as a writer as his influences and real-life encounters sharpen his understanding of what it is to be human.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Uzoramaka Jonathan
• Release date: Dec 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781739172527

Book preview

© 2022 AFROSCOT LTD Published by AFROSCOT LTD United Kingdom

Baltic Chambers, 2nd Floor, 50 Wellington Street, Glasgow, G2 6HJ afroscot.org

Printed in the United Kingdom

ISBN is 978-1-7391725-2-7

All rights reserved. No part of  this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the publisher's prior written permission. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Scripture quotations identified KJV are from the King James Version of the Bible.

Contents

Acknowledgments……….. 7  Introduction……….. 9

 Miss. Toile ……….. 12 - 72 Sweatworkshop……….. 73 - 110 Eyes for Beauty……….. 111 - 150  Infanticide……….. 151 - 198   What is Nka?……….. 199 - 244  Church……….. 245 - 274

AFROSCOT……….. 275 - 308  End Notes……….. 312

Acknowledgments

The first person who gets all the glory for completing this short story collection is my Lord and Saviour, the only God, Jesus Christ. When he called me to write my testimonies through Mark Chapter 5 Verse 18 - 20 and Revelation Chapter 12 Verse 11, I made sure I acted on his call, and thankfully, God's words came true as my testimony is now all over the world for anyone to read.

I want to thank my family, friends, and Afro-Scot patrons who all support, inspire and encourage me to keep pushing forward to the price of God's high calling in Christ Jesus.

Mark Chapter 5, Verse 18 - 20:

And when he was come into the ship, he that had been possessed with the devil prayed him that he might be with him.

Howbeit Jesus suffered him not, but saith unto him, Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee.

And he departed, and began to publish in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men did marvel.

Revelation Chapter 12, Verse 11:

And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word for their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto death.

Introduction

I desired to write these short stories as it was the easiest way to start my writing journey. The short story form is complex, but it allowed me to dive into the literary world with as few words as possible before taking on the giant that is the novel and epic. I wrote stories in my adolescence and mid-teenage years but required more disci- pline to finish them. Fast-forward to my early 20s, the drive to complete my first story suddenly arrived after reading the biogra- phies of past writers, especially the introspective French author Marcel Proust. I enjoyed the perspective of paying attention to the world around you and writing about what you saw in fine detail. This type of writing appealed to my imaginative and artistic  sensibilities and the act of writing about one’s life and environment. I wrote the short story ‘AFROSCOT,’ and the fulfilling experience of  seeing your book in your hand revitalised and pushed me to pen more stories that you see in this collection.

AFROSCOT

WHAT IS NKA? EYES FOR BEAUTY MISS. TOILE

CHURCH

INFANTICIDE

SWEATWORKSHOP

Each story delves into my Christian faith, culture, and interest in severe psychological and social issues. I hope you enjoy each of these stories, all written for your enjoyment and my expression.

AFRO-SCOT

Miss. Toile

1

Salonika had just stepped onto the precipice of the university she so eagerly wanted to attend. Once her legs pressed firmly on the white floors and her eyes swept across the cyan-painted walls, her gaze fixed on the passing students and staff, she felt that she had now achieved her objective. To come to Scotland and experience the beauty that was the green land. Her university was situated around nature, repeating rolling hills, trees, and plants of different tastes and species. Unlike her former life, she was now free, away from all the entraps of family life. Now, she could look forward to an existence that aligned with her dream of the world—a world where passion and destiny collided into a fantastic explosion and brought forth the life of  various creations. Her smile stretched to her ears, and she began to move forward until she paused and felt a slight prick in her heart.

‘Where do I go?’ She said.

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

 Uneasy loneliness gripped every cell in her body and froze them solid. Her body heat increased, and she flailed her tongue around her mouth as saliva ceased to produce. A state of shock made her look like a new, try-hard, fashionable statue with the outside light beaming on her back. Her red wool coat and gloves made it clear she was new to the country as the temperature was sixteen degrees—a weather forecast that led Scotsmen to the beach—taps aff they say! As she stood in place and moved her fingers around, frantic about what to do next, she started to notice that she was an anxious person. Her plane flight to the country was relaxing. However, now, she felt overwhelmed with sentiments as she stood at her desired place of study.

So, dreams can come true, she thought.

 Her realisation wiped her brain clean, and only the sound of a squeaking door on her right could bring her back to reality. She turned and saw the tall figure of  a short, brown-haired woman with an outfit that matched what Salonika saw in Vogue magazines. The woman seemed to shine brighter than anything she had thus seen in Scotland. This understanding was riveting to her. She scanned the woman countless times within a second and remem- bered the many images of models from her childhood. Salonika was in a forever-revolving cycle of admiration for someone she had just met. What was it about this woman that induced such reverence in Salonika for her? Salonika wasn’t sure, but from that day, she would go home and write in her diary about her encoun- ters, intending to relive her experiences, especially the most height- ened ones.

She would write within the corner of  her work wooden

desk with various trinkets and instruments used to bring her design

16

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

creations to life. It was perched next to her bed and sat near the wall with an upper window. The view gazed at the city of  Edin- burgh from the third floor. All over the pink-painted walls were collaged posters of Vintage  Vogue issues. The apartment was small, like a student's accommodation. A small lamp highlighted the book, and her pen would glide across the rose-coloured paper's surface with an endearing speed capable of exciting any word- smith. She sat on the cream leather spinning chair and hunched her back to begin the enthralling experience of expressing her emo- tions on paper for her enjoyment. She picked up the pen and fixed it firm between her right index finger and thumb and, like a woman possessed, plucked out her inner creations like God's construction of  the woman.

17

2

The day I entered the University hall on my first day of  class, I smelt the fresh and cold Scottish air, looked around the cyan-paint- ed walls, and soon felt the deep loneliness caused by being Greek in a Scottish institution and hardly knowing anybody. I did not attend fresher’s week as I had just arrived a few days ago. I knew I would be walking into a completely new space without anybody around to help me navigate. However, as I took a few steps, a door on the right delicately opened while a tall woman with bright brown eyes and a red flush face stuck her head out. She first looked down the stretched hall to see the various students, small and large, heading to class and then turned to me before coming out fully to reveal her fashionable accessories and outfit. She dressed fabulously.

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

The Greeks are known for their heroes, epics, and culture, which have inspired the whole of Rome and the modern  Western nations. But fashion was minuscule in Greek life compared to the French, Italians, and Japanese. Due to this, I was one of the few in my small village, Asos, on the west coast of Cephalonia,  interested in fashion. My father was a farmer, and my mother cared for the household. Supposedly because of my background,  it would seem that destiny had plans for me to continue the tradition of my ancestors as we had never moved too far from Greece but in my heart, I knew that I was going to be more than my other family members. Whenever I strolled through the houses that resembled the translucent rainbow after a heavy shower or looked out to the clear azure Ionian Sea, my eyes would stretch further past the scenery that had now come to bore me. I wanted to view beyond the horizon and venture into a world unknown to a young girl. The trees, sandy beach and harbour were things that struck me as repetitive, a curse to anyone who had become accustomed to their surroundings.

 I always felt a guiding compass or star guiding me towards clothing and its delicate stitching. Although my mother tirelessly took care of my siblings, one older brother and two younger sisters, she took time to dress well, even on unexpected occasions. I followed her to the market and watched as she chose the cheap- est clothing with the best material. I marvelled at how she would fix the sizing of the garments  with the sewing machine. The erupting and roaring sound of  the metallic needle piercing into the textures of the fabric took my hand and wooed me into an exotic waltz. An enduring rapture filled my body whenever she made a mistake and gently unpicked each strand of threads  so as not to rip

20

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

the garment. It fascinated me greatly, and I ensured I was there whenever she undertook this marvellous course of  seaming. Although I desired to delve into the world of fashion, I couldn’t appropriately mention this to my family. Couture was for women but not to be a profession. Their stiff ideas did not assist  in subduing my unshakeable conviction.

I watched the television programs featuring the next top

models and bought several used vogue magazines as we did not have access to the internet, home to read feverishly. I wanted to know all the designers, and when I came of age, I put  my foot down metaphorically and decided that I would undertake a lifestyle contrary to my ancestors. I would ascend their level of  mediocrity and become someone, a black sheep who turned into a pure swan—a magnificent creature created by the gods. I inched closer and closer as I felt my goal was nipping at the tips of  my nails and soon, a fantastic opportunity to move to Scotland sprang up.  I admired Scotland as it was the home of some of my

favourite designers like Christopher Kane. I heard that this univer- sity brought out some of the best designers in the industry,  and a plus was that I would be in the old and illustrious capital of Scot- land, Edinburgh. The University was famed for its industrial rooms with various machines and technicians, which aided the students in reaching the pinnacle of tailoring precision. That  is fashion, a decayed perfection held by a puppeteer and subjected to a frivo- lous universal seasonal cycle. This religious and spiritual connota- tions in style enthralled me, and I latched onto this idea of escap- ing my provincial village and stepping into a world so unfamiliar to my own—a world where I would feel no hawk watching me from afar in the spirits of my ancestors. I will be free, so I thought, and

21

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

I took my bags, machines, and all the equipment needed to embark on this faith journey and breathed in the natural air of  Scotland. What more could an old village girl want? But now, as the tall women stared at me and scanned me up and down, I felt a judge- mental eye x-ray my entire being. Her eyes seemed hooked on my appearance, and I felt like a mannequin trapped in a physical shell, unable to react to the scrutiny of  the passers-by that unconsciously or consciously expressed through their looks that I was simply an object of desire or disgust. In her eyes, I saw a latent contempt.  But I remembered that I too was a human, not a toy, and pressed my judgemental eye on her and failed to notice anything that would induce me to spew quip rudeness unbeknownst to a provincial girl and known to a city girl, well as they say. I scanned the lady for a few seconds and sighed within myself. The lady dressed well, and I compared my rather sloppy put-together outfit with hers and felt unsuitable to be in her vicinity. Her red lipstick smile showed a cygnet-like elegance, which helped beautify her countenance. She walked a few steps with her low heels clacking and clicking the white floor.

‘Wow, I love your coat!’ She said.

 My petrified demeanour changed to a look of bewilder- ment as the woman said:

 ‘I’ve never seen you around. You must be one of the new students.’

22

3

I couldn’t speak. To hear this lady whom I had come to admire instantly utter a well-time compliment strung up all sorts of emotions within me, and all I could do was hold my quivering lips to hide my happiness. I cleared my throat and ducked down for a second before looking at the woman and saying:

‘Yes-Yes, I’m a new design student.’

The lady placed her arms behind her back:

 ‘Oh, from your accent, you must be Salonika?’  My eyebrows twitched for a second as I tried to understand how she associated my name with my accent. She must have sensed my confusion when she followed with:

 ‘Please, don’t be offended. My name is Elizabeth, and my stepsister is Greek, and her name is also Salonika, and she sounds just like you.’

Elizabeth then looked at her watch:

 ‘Don’t mind me. I’m horrible at small talk.’ She said while chuckling. ‘I’ll take you to class.’

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

 I followed Elizabeth and her calming presence and inviting smile carried on our conversation not only for the journey to class but the whole four years I had the pleasure to know her. During those strenuous years of researching, sketching, implementing, pattern cutting, sewing, and presenting, we had the pleasure of being taught by Elizabeth. She was known for her experience in fashion and her riveting sense of humour that induced the class to tears. It invigorated us to work hard.

 Although she had these qualities, she had a reputation for being strict with her guidelines, especially her toiles. From the first-year students to the fourth, she was notorious for making you repeatedly work on your toile’s for weeks, if not months, if they weren’t up to her standards. Toiles are the first stage of sewing together your collection as it involves the beginning material construction of  your fashion illustrations to see if it fits the wearer and your vision. Designers use muslin, a thin and cheap off-white fabric, for their toiles.

 Despite its minor importance towards the whole creation process Elizabeth was particularly hard on us if  we didn’t do it right. A boy called Augustus; was in the same year as I had to re-do his toiles so much that I assumed he would quit at some point. But to my surprise, and not just mine, everyone, he continued to work till he received the all-mighty approval from Elizabeth. I didn’t see her treatment of him as too bad as in the fashion industry  they were tough on designers; even John Galliano was creating over thirty fashion collections a year plus all his other personal and extra work he had to attend. It led him to emit some words that weren’t favourable in the eyes of the people, and he lost his job.  In Central Saint Martins, the most expensive design school

24

Afro-Scot Short Story Collection Miss. Toile

in the world, they only picked six designers out of several hundred to study. The intensity and competitive nature of  the fashion industry led many to nervous and mental