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the street and thinking to myself “If Selima was here she would

handle this.” There were times when dudes would come to fight

me and she would literally beat their ass! No exaggeration.

Looking back, it is so funny to me. She didn’t let anybody mess

with me.

But when Selima left she was caught up in a world that

offered only two endings: death or prison. Selima’s kids’ father

was Jamaican and one of the biggest drug dealers of his era.

And not only was he a drug dealer, he was a murderer. They

killed any and everything that got in their way. They made the 80’s

in Philly hell for everybody. And unfortunately for my sister, this is

with whom she placed her faith. I used to hear so many stories

about her out there in the streets, it was my biggest fear that one

day somebody would run up to me bragging about how she was

killed.

People disliked my sister because of HIM. And the women

hated on her for sure; and it was all about HIM. Sometime after

Selima had left, I saw her on Broad St. and Rockland. It was cold as

hell outside and I was still hurting about her leaving me, so I really