33 Years Ago

I was born January 1, 1977 to Edison Nesbitt (aka Babalu) and Yolanda Buford (aka Ya-Yow). I am Ya-Yow’s third eldest child and Babalu’s 8th child. Noticeably, I do no refer to my parents as “Mom” and “Dad”. It is simply the way I was raised (or not raised..).

Ya-Yow was about 21 years old when I was born and Babalu was 38. I don’t know how my parents met, but was told (by one of Babalu’s former girlfriends) that they met in his nightclub, “Babalu’s Banana Boat”. The Banana Boat was a local Bahamian nightclub located in Miami, Florida. It sat on 7th avenue and 49th street, adjacent to Harlem Drug Store and across from The Elk’s Lounge. It was in The Banana Boat, my dad housed his band: Babalu and His Headhunters. He would set every Friday, and Saturday night. As the story goes…my mom, who loved dancing just as much as I do, was in The Banana Boat one night and caught my dad’s eye. From what I remember about her, it was likely her short hair, curves, and smile that was grabbing for him. You will get to see pictures of them a at the end of this post .

Although things are differentnow, my relationship with my father did not facilitate intimate conversations. So, there are a lot of things about him, my mother and their union that will be left unknown for me. This is unfortunate because part of me needs those conversations in order to come to a full understanding of Charkes.

By the time he and my mother met, Babalu had already been married and divorced twice and had 7 children. My mother had not beenmarried but had two children, from two other men.

One of my first memories of my mom was the first time she left me home alone. I had to be about four or five years old. Now, you are probable scratching your head, wondering how I could remember anything at such a young age. It’s the oddest thing, though. I remember that like I remember my son’s birth. We livedin an apartment complex off of 20th Street, near Jackson Memorial Hospital. I was sitting in our living room and saw her walking out. I kicked and scream, wanting her to stay, but that didn’t stop her from leaving. From that point, on, I and then we, were left home alone on numerous occasions.

As I’m writing, I’m reflecting and trying to understand. Trying to understand why the person who was supposed to protect me abandoned me. The pain I felt at that time still resonates within me, leaving footprints of insecurity to date. Although a grown woman now, I continue to look for that person who left me 33 years ago.

For those of you that have experienced or are experiencing the same, share your stories and how you have managed, especially if you have overcome such disappointments.