WATTS WOMAN, 79, HIT BY A BUS TWO DAYS AFTER RECEIVING ROSA PARKS AWARD

Incredibly, that is not a headline from “The Onion.”

On the evening of Nov. 7, Wajeha Bilal of Watts was honored at a downtown L. A,  hotel by the Women’s Transportation Seminar, (WTS) , Los Angeles Chapter, with the Rosa Parks Diversity Leadership Award for her community advocacy and action.

Two days later, while delivering food in the morning to the homeless and hungry on East 103rd Street, Wajeha, 79 years-old, was hit by a bus and suffered a fractured pelvis.  

Let that sink in a couple seconds. She gets the Rosa Parks Award then 36 hours later she is struck down by a bus.  I’m not making this up.

Friday, I visited her at St. Francis Medical Center in Lynwood and, though still in pain and facing a long rehabilitation, was better than I thought she’d be. We even laughed when I told her “Your face is still beautiful” and she replied “Oh, get out of here, Krikorian.”

Let me go back 22 years to a day in Watts when Wajeha calmed my nerves as I was led to what I thought would be, if not my doom, at least a good ass kickin’. (Warning; its’s a kinda long tale. )

On November 15, 1997, a beloved resident of the Jordan Downs housing project, domaine of the notorious Grape Street Crips, was shot to death by police officers from the LAPD’s almost-as-notorious Southeast Division. Darryl “Cubby” Hood, 40,  trippin’ dangerously on a cigarette laced with crack and PCP, was slashing himself with two steak knives when he was shot to death by the cops. As one Jordan Downs resident told me  “The po-lice didn’t want him to hurt himself, so they killed him.”  The story appeared in the Times Metro section.  

A week later, I wrote a another story, this one about a march on that Southeast station protesting Chubby’s shooting in which the following appeared; “Four members of the Grape Street Crips, the street gang that rules Jordan Downs, said as the march passed through the project that they plan to ambush officers.

“We are taking their threats very seriously,” said Deputy Chief J.I. Davis, commander of the LAPD’s South Bureau. “Jordan Downs has been the most active project this year.”  

Here is that story https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1997-nov-23-me-56918-story.html

The morning the story ran, Nov. 23, 1997, I got a call from Daude Sherrills, son of Wajeha and himself a prominent figure in Jordan Downs, instrumental in the 1992 Watts Gang Peace Treaty between Grape Street Crips, PJ Crips from Imperial Courts and Bounty Hunter Bloods from Nickerson Gardens.

I still vividly recall what he said on the phone. “Your ghetto pass has been revoked.”

Fuck. That was what set me apart from other reporters at the paper, I had access to Grape Street, the PJs and Bounty Hunters day and night ( not that the big shot editors gave a shit and half about that part of town ). But, to me, that was vital.

I couldn’t still. Armed with that very Metro section, I drove to Grape Street, revoked ghetto pass be damn.  There, with Daude Sherrills and four or five guys from Grape, I argued my point that for them to tell their side of stories, I needed to be here. They angrily complained that the quote about the ambush had instantly put extreme police pressure on them with constant patrols and harassment. As if to prove their point, an LAPD plain wrap cruised by.

I countered with one of the dumbest statements I have ever made, and something that - to this day - makes me realize I am capable of true stupidity.  I said “I have the paper right in the car. Let’s go read it.”

Forrest Gump got nothing on me.   

So there, in the bowels of Jordan Downs on 99th Place, we walked – or forced marched - to my car parked on 102nd. With each step,  I cursed myself for saying what I said. The paper in my car would prove exactly what they were complaining about. In black and white print I was proving their point.

One of the youngins’, to make a name for themselves, was likely to attack me. Maybe two or three of them. As I was within about 60, 70 feet from my car, I saw Wajeha on the four-by-four-foot slab of concrete that passed as her porch for 61 years in these projects, her head wrapped, as always,  in a pretty scarf.  She didn’t smile at me.  She didn’t sneer. But, she had this serene look, a look I have long thought best describes her; Serenity amid the chaos. That looked calmed me. Her serenity came my way. I felt no fear.

At the car, I showed them the paper, and rallied, saying that damning line was said “on the record”, even after I warned them. I argued “I’m a reporter, not a spokesperson for anyone.”  I think, I like to think, I increased my cred that day. My ghetto pass was reinstated.

##

At St. Francis, after our greeting Wajeha told me about her encounter with a wayward bus.

“That bus rolled me up like a tortilla” she said without a smidgen of humor.

The following is from the WTS website.

“The WTS-LA Rosa Parks Diversity Leadership Award is bestowed on who stands up for what’s right, no matter what the consequences may be, one who shows absolute determination and ability to do what is right. This year WTS recognizes community activist Wajeha Bilal for being that person.

Dedicated passionately to her community, Bilal lives, works, and volunteers in her community. A member of Metro’s NextGen Bus Study Working Group—an entity focused on providing guidance on the redesign of Metro’s entire bus network—Bilal ensures that the concerns of her community have voice in the proceedings. A tireless advocate, she’s a community leader who has contributed mightily and selflessly to promote public transportation for Hispanic and African-American families. She’s also a “travel buddy” in Metro’s On the Move Riders Program, reaching out to older adults to ease use and safety of mass transit. Additionally, she actively supports Metro’s Rail Safety Ambassadors, who are assigned to observe and report issues along the rail system. For many, that would be enough. Not for Bilal.

In addition to her vital work in transportation, Bilal also facilitates outreach for the Watts Gang Task Force, advising residents on how to contact and interact with the LAPD and Transit Security to seek assistance. Bilal uses her training to cultivate diverse, collaborative, cross-section outreach in her community. That includes mentoring Hispanic and African-American women on how to save and secure funding, dress for success, and obtain licenses and permits for small business.

Finally, Bilal founded the Build Plus Community Market Place. Located at the Metro Blue Line 103rd Street Station, the Build Plus Community Market Place is a non-profit that promotes the general welfare and economic development of low-income people in Watts. It has been internationally recognized as a model for this type of vital outreach. In addition, she also helped establish both state and national recognition for the Watts Towers.

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For the past two years, Bilal, aka “The Queen”, has been feeding the homeless and the hungry once a month near the  Blue Line Subway stop at 103rd Street in Watts, a short walk from the Watts Towers. One Nov. 9th she took some greens and sweet potatoes fired tilapia, fried potatoes with onions. rolled turkey smothered with gravy. There were roughly 70 to 80 people there waiting to feast.

After she dropped the food off, she went to move her van when she saw a double MTA bus – that bus with the accordion in the middle  - heading east on 103rd right near the railroad tracks. Before she stepped off the curb to get to her driver’s door, she made sure to make eye contact with the bus driver. Their eyes met and Wajeha put her right hand up to signal she was stepping out.

But the bus driver did not slow, and Wajeha says he even accelerated as he came toward her.

“Oh, no.” Oh, my God”, she thought.  Too late, Then it was splatter city, as the bus’ front side rammed into her side, fracturing her pelvis, two ribs and more bruises and sent her rolling. “Yeah he rolled me like a tortilla. I could hear my bones crackin’.”

Bystanders dashed to her. The bus stopped. The rear bus door, the door that a Rosa Parks would have been closest to, opened up and pinned her even more against the car. People working frantically, freed her. Fortunately, a  fire department truck was going by and stopped and rushed her to St. Francis.

Wajeha, mother of 10 – plus a whole lot more folks in and around Jordan Downs who call her Queen – faces a long rehabilitation. She has plenty of visitors and is getting plenty more calls from lawyers.

“Ok, Krikorian, thanks for coming by,” she said as I was leaving her hospital room. “Try ‘n stay outta trouble.”