In what was known as the Great Mall Wars.

It was the year 1983, otherwise known as the time before WillowBrook Mall. They lived in a small barrio located on the cusp of a development called "The Greenspoint Mall." A large and noisy highway separated the barrio from the mall and shepherded many visitors into it's paradise of shopping and eating.

In the Barrio it was not at all uncommon for 16 members of a family to be living in a 2 bedroom apartment. Though it was quite uncommon for members of that family to speak in the language of the ruling class. The Barrio's members much preferred the tongue from their homeland.

The residents of the barrio never tired of complaining in that tongue of the theft of their ancestral lands. They were a proud people, a people who saluted their leader, even while he dressed in the rags from enlisted men in a futile attempt to escape capture.

The children born in the barrio often stood along side of the mall's roadway. And when the cars of the ruling class would ride by, they would throw stones at cars of the white men whose ancestors had stolen their land. The children, a fearful bunch, would be chased away by even the slightest suggestion from a tapped brake light that one of the cars would stop and that the owner of one of these vehicles would exact his revenge upon them.

This signal could send the children scurrying off, to hide in the woodlands which bordered the barrio from the land of the whites. But there where a few white unfortunates that lived among the brown barrios. Families who had disgraced themselves among the whites. And not surprisingly, the children of those families enjoyed throwing stones at cars as much as any of the brown children.

To be continued. One can only post so much from the Library. Or when I learn how to do outsider art.