Petition for Value

When I was 19 years old, I petitioned the leaders for an inclusive educational program to orientate me towards myself. I wasn’t qualified to make a request for such a program, but I tried anyway. I was just a student from Ballou Senior High which some say, was the worst school in DC at the time. If I told them, that my only qualification was that I was called to this world before I swam like a fish in my mother’s womb, ah, that wouldn’t have gone over too well.  My orientation in America has always been from slavery to civil rights and because of that approved historical approach; I am looked upon as having less value.

Before the age of seven I saw four men shot to death. Their lives had value, but in a community under assault since the founding of the country, that value is still a national topic. My elders and I have marched to be recognized and to have God given freedoms in this country, like to sit at a lunch counter, vote and pursue a life of full equality. Yet, we come from a community where everyone knows someone who has died from the devastating killer, AIDS. It’s a community where you know several people serving jail terms. In our community mothers cry and bury their sons in massive numbers. In this 400 hundred year old fight, we still feel we must remind people that “Black Lives Matter.”

I petitioned the leaders and asked, “Is there an orientation other than the plantation that has value?” What can we teach ourselves and the world about the children of Africa that has value? Ancestral value of any kind seems to be the missing narrative. I am a historical enthusiast by nature. So, I went to the “Book of Records”, and sought the beginning — and in the ancient testimonial account I saw the value of all the nations created by God. Even today you read about Shem’s children and Japheth’s children, and you see them today on and off the screen having great wealth. But where is the narrator that speaks of Ham’s children?

We read in the books of Shem that the Most High took one from his line and called him His own. We also read in the testimonial accounts that through Shem’s line, “…all the families of the earth will be blessed.” The ancient descendants of Shem has handed us many books as a witness of accounts. It is even written that Jesus comes from the line of Shem.

We know the great value of Japheth’s children. Every President of the United States save one was from the line of Japheth. The empire of Rome and the ancient Greeks are also from the same line. We read in the Bible, “(From these the maritime peoples spread out into their territories by their clans within their nations…)” All of the Bishops of Rome save one are from the line of Japheth. It was the maritime peoples who went forth to explore new worlds, and in that pursuit they brought my ancestors to this hemisphere. This is where the new world starts my value and education as a descendent of Ham — that orientation is a tragedy.

But I petitioned for my value and asked the leaders high and low, “Can you tell me something about my ancestors a thousand years before those ships?”

Ancient testimonial account records, “Japheth… and his sons, for their generations’ forever five great islands, and a great land in the north. But it is cold, and the land of Ham is hot, and the land of Shem is neither hot nor cold, but it is of blended cold and heat.” If you know what happens to you at the beach in the summer, then you know what happened to Ham’s children.

David writes in Psalms, “Israel entered Egypt; Jacob lived as an alien in the land of Ham.”

The ancient prophet Nahum asks, “Are you better than Thebes, situated on the Nile, with water around her? The river was her defense, the waters her wall. Ethiopia and Egypt were her boundless strength; Put and Libya were among her allies.”

I’ve never in my life saw Ethiopia and Egypt having boundless strength as a reinforced image. Where are the narrators that I may tell them of this history and my true value? In the account of Moses it says of Egypt, “But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.”

I had to read it again, God said, “… I have raised you up for this very purpose…” This was told to the nation in the hot land. Shall we show that orientation – that all of earth’s nations have truly played a wonderful part of this existence? Shall we teach our children some uplifting truth to go along with the depressing stories of oppression? Then we won’t need to tell them that “Black Lives Matter”– they would already know? I petitioned for my value and the leader’s hands were tied, but I sought and found the best historical references concerning my ancestors. I was astonished but elevated as I discovered lands rich with love, rich in gold, great in power and full of good morals — and hot with a blazing sun.

Testimonial Fire

It came about during Holy Week, the season of Easter. If ever we would remember the Lord, his mission, his sacrifice and his love, it’s on Easter.

I was walking and I heard and saw a man, he was a block away, on his knees begging, “Please Christians, I am hungry, please help! I am hungry; may I have a dollar or anything to help for food, please Christians?”

He kept repeating it. I never heard a beggar say, “please Christians”. It seemed as if Christians were being called out, to do what Jesus said and come to the aid of another. But this could be just a simple matter of empathy.

As I walked the entire city block towards him not one person stopped and offered a cent and my Spirit began to testify, saying, “Have they not heard, have they not read?”

Jesus said, “When the son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat…”

This was Holy Week, a week full of traditions recognizing Christ and more than 20 people
walked by a begging man on his knees. Maybe the people that passed him don’t follow Jesus and never heard of Holy Week. Maybe they’re not concerned with saints, justice, mercy and faithfulness, so the man on his knees is just another bum begging. It bothered me for two days. I had to come to terms that people may not know what Jesus said, but I was reminded again of what he said to those who claim they follow God’s word,

“Well hath Isaiah prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, this people honor me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.”

Testimonial fire stresses that man has worshiped one god or another for as long as the Stone Age. The love for customs and traditions are fought over, even up until this day.

Jesus said, “You have a fine way of rejecting the commandments of God in order to keep your tradition!” The great prophet writes concerning the people, “Surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flowers fade but the word of our Lord shall stand forever.”

As we remember Jesus’ sacrifice, his love, his death, his life, his compassion, may we try to love and have compassion for the “least of these our brothers and sisters” as He did. He has shown the way and all we need to do is follow in His glorious light.

Auspicious One

The Letter AThey call me the Auspicious One, A for short. I live in a beautiful world full of madness. I reclined for the night to heal my bruises, and I drifted into a sleep portal. You never know if the sleep portals are of the other realm or of peace and healing, I was there talking of loving oneself and his neighbor. King was on my thoughts before I flew. The eagle comes to mind, a Ba a Ka in the air, a sniper on the battle field. Is that fair?

Rolling over for a soft landing, I looked up and a barrel was pointed at my head. Mind over matter, I thought. “You make one false move and you’re dead.”

“Sure a sniper is fair, you’re the archer champion, right? Get up, now!”

Remember this is just a sleep portal, but you do feel the pain or the wet dream gain.

“I need a white tee,” I said.

“You got one on,” he returned.

“Need another one.”

“Get your ass up, A!”

They had on all black. Only one spoke. He moved toward me like he was in the matrix, grabbing me. “My Adidas,” I said.

“You don’t need any shoes where you’re going.”

Moving in stealth, hemp bag over my head — I asked, “What I do?” Hope is always a part of what’s next, in the sleep portal. I have moves like Batman, eyes like the Six Million Dollar man, I knew Horus was inside me, maybe it was the hemp, maybe not; but with all my strength I couldn’t break the knot.

Pulled up to the underground vault. The engines running like they were powered by electricity, doors sliding like Star Trek.

“I didn’t do shit man, I am not even on social media!”

In a minute my strength will return, but, if you out there Pinch Me; I am deep in this dream, with a set piece clean as a Suburban fresh off the assembly line. When they took off the hemp hood, it was like I was in the happy world of artificial intelligence.

Just as they were taking the knot off, I snatched my arm and said, “Get off me.”

The furniture was exquisite; mainframes were on the perimeter, lights blinking like stars in the sky.

“Sit down, Auspiciousness, sit down,” he said.

“What I do now?” I asked.

“What is this about love, I keep hearing?” he asked.

“Love is the campaign,” I answered.

“I thought we talked about this, love is a disease and nothing but hunger.”

It seemed as if he had no soul. He talked in echoes and his voice was cold. All around him were inventions taken over with his appetite, only to feed his appetite. He didn’t invent them, he just controlled them. I know him and he knows me, I’ve been here before. The last time I was here he talked about the numbers and the sheep. I told him, “What’s yours is yours.”

“Listen,” he continued, “I need you to accept this offer.”

He handed me an envelope, and on the front the word Reparations was in bold. I opened the envelope and it said, “Nigger,” and underneath it read, “It’s your word and you can have it.”

“What the..?! You woke me up for this?!” I asked.

“The leaders of your community have already buried it somewhere, they understand.”

“Why bother me with this? This doesn’t concern me.” I said.

“Because you have to accept it, that’s why!”

I asked him, “What does nigger mean? Does it mean rape? Does it mean Jim Crow? Does it mean lynching? Does it mean predatory housing practices? And… is it worth a century of job discrimination? What does nigger mean?!”

“You were nothing and you know it,” he said.

I said to him, “Love is the campaign and this conversation is old and my history was never told, but in the matter of reparations isn’t home equity about the numbers? Aren’t interest rates about the numbers? Unemployment rates… mass incarcerations, they’re about the numbers right? But you want to give me a word for reparations and not numbers.”

“I am giving you the N-word, your own word,” he said.

I replied, “You can have it, our people will define themselves. The last time I checked vows were at the end of the words, nigga! And remember we are inspired to apply kujichagulia.”

Then I took flight back through the sleep portal to continue with my rest and healing.

The Core of Me

As long as I can remember, I loved the sight of books. Even when I couldn’t read them, they seemed to be mystical and intimate. I used to hold them in my hand and scan the pages. I knew one day, I would learn how to read and have enough patience to enjoy a book… and I did. Now, I have an extreme thirst for books of history and it doesn’t matter whether it’s European, Asian, African or American history — I find great delight in them all.

The core of me is historically infused by nature and the solid rock of ancient testimony isThe earth's core my foundation. Whether it’s about Cyrus the Great, Maya Angelou, Xerxes — or even Josephus, who wrote, “… but others there are, who, of necessity and by force, are driven to write history, because they are concerned in the facts, and so cannot excuse themselves from committing them to writing.” Being born in America is absolutely a wonderful blessing hidden in the thickets, between the books and libraries offering infinite perspectives of lies and truths. When considering history and reading it as it relates to African Americans, it can be very depressing and confusing. On one hand, I was born in the greatest county on earth, a nation who fights for freedom all over the world; but when it comes to the history of African Americans, well –“it’s complicated.”

The backdrop to African American history is depressing. When I looked at the life of Paul Robeson, I was reading about a true genius, a man who spoke more than 20 languages. Robeson was once quoted as saying, “Equality might be denied but I knew I was not inferior.” He was a giant of a man who in ancient times would’ve been a great prince. The back drop to his life was oppression, discrimination and lynching. He was so intelligent that he didn’t toe a line for anyone and he was very aware of the power of propaganda — but played no part in it. Robeson spoke truth to power concerning pressing matters in America and the world, and for 8 years he was silenced and had his passport taken. It’s exhausting when looking at the same backdrop for many others like Malcolm X, Medgar Evers and Bessie Colman. I ask, who is responsible for this attitude and treatment, and where did it come from? It’s sickening to read about the underprivileged life pushed upon that generation of elders.

But something wonderful happened in my reading preparation. I picked up the bible and read the name Cyrus. It was the first time I was introduced to that historical name. I questioned whether or not Cyrus the Great was a real person. I discovered indeed he was, and I was excited that there was truth to the book, and for me I had a beginning point, because historically I was lost. I was so happy that the bible was not written by those who controlled Atlantic Slave Trade. It brought joy to my heart and confirmed that is was a great testimonial gift to the slave master and the slave, as neither could “add to it or subtract from it.”  Those of us from the Bantu line in America and those of us schooled with the Latin alphabet were new to the ancient testimonial account. You read from The Book of Moses, “Ham was a son of Noah and the father of Cush, Mizraim, Phut and Canaan.” Like Howard Carter and Walter Bryan Emery, I too was excited to search for information related to the hot land and its people.

It was a journey of self-discovery, a restructuring of ancient steps and maybe, just maybe I would learn why I loved hot sauce. The story of Ham and his children in the hot land is an ancient one. It was a written history long before the first ship landed in America. The stories of history are told by those in charge, but in this great and free country, I am free to search for the sight of me; I am free to pursue the happiness of me. And as I have said, the core of me has been taken over by ancient testimony and I am historically infused by nature. Here is a twist to an old African Proverb, “Because the elephant don’t have a historian the hunter is the hero.” Well, from the inspiration of the great life of Carter G. Woodson, the elephant’s historian has arrived and will tell you about the last great dinosaur walking the earth – historically speaking.