Host: Marina Klutse

Marina: [00:00:02] Welcome to All Together Now, Fridays with The Moth. I'm your host for this week, Marina Klutse. 

As The Moth's director of finance, you could probably imagine this is a little different than an ordinary day at work for me. But you're in trouble now, someone gave me a microphone. 

Our story this week is about one of the most difficult sacrifices families make in the hopes of finding their way to something different. Maurice Ashley told this story at a Mainstage show in New York City, where the theme of the night was New York Stories. Here's Maurice, live at The Moth.

[cheers and applause] 

Maurice: [00:00:44] We were barrel children, my brother, my sister and myself. Every few months, my uncle would drive to Norman Manley Airport in Jamaica to pick up a barrel and bring it back to our house. And in that barrel would be goodies from my mom, who was now living in New York. She would send down supplies like flour, and rice, and canned goods, and stuff for school, like notebooks and pencils. She even sent down games. One of the things she sent down, actually, was a baseball glove and a softball. In Jamaica, we didn't know what to do with that. [audience laughter] So, I threw away the glove and we kicked around a softball like it was a soccer ball. [audience laughter]

And that barrel was a connection to my mom, because even though she had left when I was that little boy of two, I knew that someday we would see her again, and that barrel was that constant reminder. And she had left because Jamaica was tough. Jamaica in the late 1970s was filled with political violence. The Jamaica Labor Party and the People's National Party would go at odds with each other. You thought Democrats and Republicans were bad. There was a lady who was a mother of one of my friends. She talked sympathetically about the other party, and they burned her house down. There would be nights when helicopters, police helicopters, would fly overhead. The searchlight would stream into our homes, looking for young men who had started trouble.

I was afraid that my brother would one day be scooped up in one of their raids. He was eight years older than I was, and I’d never see him again. But the one person who kept us on the straight and narrow was our grandmother. She was tough. She had raised seven kids on her own, and now she was raising her daughter’s three children. She was a teacher. So, she would teach us stuff. She’d tell us our timetables. She would drill us, all the ABCs and grammar. Because it was her one point, that education was the way out, that you had to study and work and study some more if you were ever going to be successful. 

t felt to me like she was really tough, particularly tough on me. I felt like she would always be harsher and harsher and always want to drill more and more. I couldn’t understand why. I remember one summer, having gotten a barrel from my mother and getting notebooks-- She would send us comics as well. So, I had these Archie and Jughead, they were my favorites. I’d read only a couple of books, but I’d read that over and over. Read them, some Archie, some Jughead, some Veronica. That was my thing. I drew in the notebooks. I drew and drew and drew. 

And then, the end of the summer came, and my grandmother said, “Where are the notebooks?” And I said, “I had drawn in them.” She became infuriated. She got out her belt and she started hitting me. I got scared, and I ran out of the house. We shared a compound with another family, and they had three dogs. And the dogs got excited hearing all the commotion. They came over to me and they started barking. And then, one of them jumped up and bit my ear. And the blood started coming out. That’s when my grandmother stopped screaming. 

So, I couldn’t understand why. Why was she so tough and what were we living in? And then, the day finally came. We heard that we were going to take pictures for a visa. Our visas. We went and we took our pictures. We were going to the United States. We were going to go to New York and finally live with my mom. My friends could barely hide their envy, because we had heard about the United States. It was the land of milk and honey. The streets were paved with gold. The only thing we knew about the United States was what we saw on television.

So, it was The Partridge Family and girls were going to chase me like Danny Partridge. [audience laughter] Or, it was Arnold and Willis on Different Strokes. And we were going to live in a penthouse apartment. [audience laughter] Actually, bet my brother we were going to live in a penthouse apartment with a pool on the roof. [audience laughter] I don’t even know where I got that one from, it was just like, it seemed right, the pool on the roof. 20 bucks. Take the bet.” He took the bet. And finally, the day came, it was August 28th, 1978. We went to the airport with my grandmother and uncle, and we say our goodbyes. 

We got on the plane, we flew into the air. It was the first time on a plane. We finally get over the lights of the city. I see the lights outside. I’m excited. I take off my seatbelt and start looking to see the lights. A flight attendant comes over and smacks me on the hand, "Sit down." I sit down. I’m still looking. Finally, we land, we go outside and there’s my mom. 10 years, she had worked to get us there. And so, now, we’re driving down the streets in New York, United States. But the streets aren’t paved with gold. [audience laughter] Linden Boulevard’s got garbage. [audience laughter] I’m a little confused. 

So, we drive and we turn up Rockaway Parkway. This is Brownsville now. Brownsville, Brooklyn. We drive up Rockaway Parkway and we get to this house. I step out the car. It’s like two-story, shanty-looking thing. My brother said, it reminded him of a jailhouse. [audience laughter] I look on the corner, there are four buildings flanking the corner. They’re four stories high and they’re all burnt out and abandoned. Look like haunted houses. 

I turn to my mother, and first words come out of my mouth, I say, "Who are we visiting?" [audience laughter] Instant flame in her eyes, she said, "This is where you’re going to live, fool." We go inside, go into this two-bedroom apartment. My mother would have one bedroom. Me, my sister, my 20-year-old brother share the other one. We go down to the streets the next day. We’re walking around. My mother takes me to the school that I’m going to go to when school starts, and I’m in shock. On the side of the building, there’s graffiti. 

Now, in Jamaica, education, like I said, is everything. It’s your only way out. To have graffiti on the side of a school building is like defacing St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I don’t understand. How is this possible? So, a week later, school starts. As soon as we start the day in math, everything’s too easy. It feels like a year, maybe even more before. I go home to my mother that day, I said, "I can’t be in the right class." So, she gives me the Jamaican report card and I took it to school. I took it to the guidance counselor, I said, "Look at my grades. Look how smart I was." This lady looks at me and says, "No, you’re in the best class in the school. That’s it." 

Things didn’t get much better after that, because the drug dealers in the neighborhood-- Violence in Jamaica was tough, but in Brooklyn it was different. It was political violence there. But here, it was the drug dealers shooting at each other every single night, or just shooting, just to let us know who ran the neighborhood. And then, things started to get dreary. It got cold. We don’t know about cold in Jamaica. [audience laughter] It’s freezing in New York. And then, I met someone, met a kid. I was talking to him and he was from Jamaica. And I said, "Wow, you’re from Jamaica too?" And he said, "You’re not from Jamaica." I said, "Yes, I am." He said, "You don’t sound Jamaican at all." 

I had somehow lost my accent without even trying. I couldn’t understand my mother. I was thinking, we had a house in Jamaica. We had a great school. It wasn’t cold. [audience laughter] Look at this place. The violence here, it’s random. You worked for 10 years for this? What were you thinking? But life went on.

A little while after that, I went into a library. And for me, reading those Archie and Jughead comics over and over, because that’s all we had. Suddenly, I had a library full of books. And for me, books were like gold. And on one of those bookshelves, there was a book on chess. And so, I take the book out, I open it up and there are all these strategies and tactics and positional plans and famous players, Alekhine and Capablanca and all these exotic places I’d never been to, never even dreamt existed. And I’m thinking, this is cool.

I played a lot of games in Jamaica. Chess was one of them. But I was like, “Hey, this I can play. I could do this.” And so, I start studying the book. I find out there’s a whole world of chess. And so, I start going into the parks to play chess in Brooklyn and get play-talk with the hustlers. And then, I go to the Manhattan Chess Club and I play there, and I find out that there are experts and masters and so I start getting better and better. My rating goes up. And then, I turn into an expert. And pretty soon after that, I’m a master. And then, soon after that, I’m a senior master. I’m one of the best players in the country. [audience applause] 

My whole world opens. And then, I begin to understand, because on the chessboard, pieces are plastic, they’re inanimate. They come alive in the mind of the player, in the imagination of the one who’s manipulating them. You have to see what can happen on the board, the plans are in your expertise, your judgment, your vision. What my young mind didn’t know that my mother had spent all that time sacrificing the intimacy of her children, and my grandmother, those elder years, those precious elder years of her life, is that those great women had seen that vision. And that now, through their sacrifice, through their determination and hard work, I was now living their dreams.

[cheers and applause] 

Marina: [00:11:58] That was Maurice Ashley. Maurice is a history-making chess grandmaster. He was inducted into the US Chess Hall of Fame in 2016. 

Maurice and I have a lot in common, so I followed up with him to ask more about his career, family and life in general. Here's Maurice. 

So, that moment when you win the grandmaster title, what did that moment mean to you, your family, your mom, your grandma?

Maurice: [00:12:30] Oh, my grandmother was not alive. She had long passed. But my grandmother’s influence was very powerful on us. She had all these sayings and stories that she would tell. I would hear her voice often. I would hear the things that she said while I was trying to become successful myself. I remember the one thing that she said that really stuck with me is this idea of people being a, “Jack of all trades, but a master of none.” 

I was trying to become a grandmaster of one thing, but I had a lot of interest beyond chess. I would often hear this mantra of hers, almost like a curse. After her passing, it really was something that stayed with me. I guess part of me wanted to be successful for her as well.

The day that I did accomplish the feat of becoming a grandmaster, getting my last norm, it’s called, that same day, I was thinking about her and thinking about this same quote I told you, "Jack of all trades, master of none." I was really nervous, because I knew if I won this game, I would become a Grandmaster. I remember ironing the shirt and then this hit me, and her voice hit me and I dropped the iron and started crying, because I realized my grandmother was speaking out of love and not out of malice. It was this release for me, that moment, and I was able to get myself together and go to the game and eventually calmed down. 

At one point I was at incredible peace during the game itself and was able to just play with a different kind of freedom. And it just came, the win just came and there it was. I became a grandmaster that day. It was a fantastic moment for all of us. For myself, it was an achievement of a lifetime, a dream come true. And for everyone around me, they realized how much I poured into it. They got it. This grandmaster title was not something trivial. People were just thrilled. It was very satisfying especially. I always know that I accomplished this risky endeavor of dreaming about becoming a chess grandmaster and making a life around it, but that somehow I managed to do what I wanted to do and it worked.

Marina: [00:14:59] It’s really beautiful to hear that, because I just often find that, at least within my family culture, especially when you come from families of immigrants that there is always this set path that you need to take in order to be successful. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact, they risk so much to either bring you here or to come here, that they want this guaranteed result [chuckles] which is often like, you must be a doctor, lawyer, engineer, X, Y and Z. I think it’s incredible that you were able to go against the grain, which I think is something not always allowed in certain cultures and backgrounds. 

You talk about in your story about living the American Dream. I guess I’m curious to know from when you first got here, to when you won that first grandmaster title, to possibly now, what does the definition of the American Dream look like to you now versus back then?

Maurice: [00:16:03] Today, I see the American Dream for its warts, particularly as a black person. And you know what? I consider it a different kind of dream, American Dream, if you will, because those black people who were ripped from their homes in Africa and taken through the Middle Passages and then had to live as slaves for those centuries, not knowing that whatever they did, they were not going to be rewarded for, they had the strength to survive. And that strength produced this generation. 

Everything that happened then produced this generation. And to me, that strength is inspiring, it’s incredible and it’s something that I wish to fulfill in my actions. Their dreams, their aspirations for the future generations, that we represent them well. Here are black people showing what the true beauty of the American experiment is.

Marina: [00:17:20] That was Maurice Ashley. To hear more from our conversation, head to themoth.org/extras. 

Listening to Maurice’s story made me feel so seen. But let me stop you right there before you get too excited. I can’t play chess to save my life. I didn’t earn a grandmaster title in anything. But when I was two, my older siblings and I were sent to live with our grandparents in Ghana, while our dad stayed behind in the US. Before the start of the school year, we would happily open boxes from our father that had fancy American sneakers that lit up, bedazzled clothes before bedazzle was a thing, notebooks, stickers and other accessories, things that would pretty much read, I have family in America. Yup, that was us, the American kids in Ghana.

Just like Maurice, these boxes filled us with joy and fostered an idealized image of America. My dreams didn’t include a penthouse with a pool on the roof, but they did include a purple TV, my own room with purple decor and a big fancy house. Everything would sparkle, glimmer and we would live happily ever after. 

A few months shy of my ninth birthday, I was told that we were returning to the US. When the day came, I remember getting on the plane. My mind was racing with visions of the American Dream. But when I did get here, [chuckles] my life was not as expected. Later in life, I realized that returning to the US granted me certain luxuries that I may not have had in Ghana, but it also came with its own set of challenges, from language barriers to not being accepted as an American. It made me question my sense of belonging. But as I got older, I realized I didn’t have to identify with one country over the other, because both have very much contributed to who I am and how I navigate this world. 

Maurice and I really connected over our stories, but we’re also able to recognize some of our differences, which reminded me that no two journeys are alike. Our stories are unique, complex, and nuanced. But we can often find pieces of ourselves in the reflection of each other’s stories. 

If you are inspired to think more deeply about our story this week, here are a few questions to get you started. Have you ever felt torn or defined by a certain culture or country? Can you remember when something didn’t quite meet your expectations? When was the last time you were excited about the unknown? 

That’s all for this week. Until next time, from all of us here at The Moth, have a story-worthy week.

Julia: [00:20:17] Marina Klutse is the Director of Finance at The Moth. She's been known to manage a budget or 2 or 20, probably way more than you want to know about. She’s a certified public accountant who laughs often. She’s also a traveler at heart and is proudly Ghanaian-Haitian heritage. She says she’s happiest when all her siblings are in a room reminiscing and cackling about all the trouble they used to get into when they were kids.

Marina: [00:20:43] Podcast production by Julia Purcell. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.