Bed Stuy Indian

Bed Stuy, Brooklyn has been my home for the past two years.  It’s no longer the place that people fear.  The old neighbors that remain are amazing and the new neighbors are trying to keep the feeling of the neighborhood.  There are still drug dealers and a couple of crack whores, but by and large, it’s really a great neighborhood. The violence of before is on the decline, but some of the amazing characters have remained.

The first morning I walked to the subway, I met my friend Indian. (The neighbors call him Indian. I have no idea what his given name is.)  He’s approximately 6 foot 3 and ethnically east Indian with a Caribbean accent.  I think he’s Jamaican, but I can’t be too sure.  He’s always intoxicated, no matter what time of day.  So most of the time I can’t tell what he’s saying.  He wears hip hop clothes and is probably in his 50’s or 60’s.  I don’t know where he lives, but I know where to find him or rather he knows where to find me.  That first morning, he came running out from one of the covered porches and gave me a huge hug and kiss and said “Respect mon.”  Then he said some other stuff that was unintelligible.

At night he used to hang out with the drug dealers and was usually so drunk he could barely stand up.  The dealers tried to get him to stop hugging me.  One time, one of the dealers put himself between the two of us and said “Man, she doesn’t want you to touch her.”  He didn’t listen and went right back to hugging me the next day.  Indian has changed sides of the street and currently hangs out with the old men who drink and play cards. He still runs over to greet me with a hug.

Over the past two years Indian has danced at me, sung to me and given me advice (I’m still working on translating the advice. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.)  Once he led me into the new neighborhood restaurant and then walked out.  I was standing in the restaurant by myself with the staff staring at me like, “What do you want?”  I told them that Indian just grabbed me off the street and led me in.  They gave a knowing look and laughed.   Sometimes he waves me over to tell me something important. I have never understood anything he has said, but I have grown to really like Indian. I know I’m home when he greets me.   It’s become a thing.