"Sierra Leone? Bah! I am not from Sierra Leone!" he dismissed over his shoulder in an angry sort of gesture. Turay continued on with his list then noticed his flight had landed and sprung out the door. "Sierra Leone" Jallow continued under his breath. "All they do is kill each other, fighting fighting all the time--who would ever go back there?"
"Jallow, where are you from?" I asked politely, piqued with interest. He sat down and arranged his pungent African dish in front of him.
"I was born right here in DC! Southeast! I am the king of Alabama Avenue!" he proclaimed, poking the table as if to show me on it's smooth landscape right where his kingdom was located. He shook his head. "Only yesterday I saw a girl who was pregnant and all these boys--they all just run around and do this and sleep there, and hit him, and for what??"
He spit disgust to the side of the board and slammed a piece into place.
"For what? I told them, they are fools! They know nothing! And as king I had to tell them so. You see?? I am king!"
I'm not sure he realized that Turay was gone and that the game was over by forfeit. Jallow crowned the piece himself then got up from his table. Without another word, he hunkered down the hallway.
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