"We" Meaning What?

"What did you say your name is?"
"I didn't say.  We try not to use names or telephones or contact through computers.  It has to be face to face recognition."
"And how did you learn about me?"
"In the Middle East we monitor you people by TV.  You people are all over TV raising hell in the streets, and we have much in common . . ."
"Black people don't have nothing in common wit' nobody.  Ain't nobody in the world lak us."
"You know we're anti-Jewish and many of your black groups have anti-Jewish and anti-U.S.A. people.  At that rally next door to you people's Capitol we heard you people, 'Uproot U.S.A.' "

"And we mean that.  We gon' raise hell and . . ."
"There's something I have to explain to you if we're gonna work together.  We only have a handful of blacks in our country and they identify as Arabs.  As they say in your country, 'You have to know what side your bread is buttered on.'  Those anti-American and anti-Israel speeches at that rally were beneficial for your groups and our revolutionaries, even if some people call us terrorists -- although the one in The Office of your country refuses to call us Islamic terrorists no matter how many Christians' heads we cut off or people we blow up or burn alive."
"Yeah, and once we git rid of them police we gon' really be in charge . . ."

"By 'we' you mean what?"
"Us."
"If you consider well, you'll recall that you've seen very few of your 'us' among our people."
"You said that to say what?"
"Once we take over here -- and we're going to.  Many of us are already here, and more are coming in with those hundreds of thousands the one in The Office here is bringing in.  We can't have that divisive black talk from you people among our revolutionaries . . . once we take over, we're in charge of everything and everybody.  If your 'us' tries to riot, loot, burn, and kill our police under our rule, as they do in the streets of your democracy, there won't be enough of your 'us' left to feed an ant."

A Gentle Shooting

" . . . blacks born in the Western world can never be Afrikans and Afrikans born in Afrika can never be Afrikan Americans or Afro Cubans or Afro Brazilians or Afro Puerto Ricans . . ." he was saying from the pulpit as I went in, joining some 60 or 70 blacks having a "Session" in their small church.  He was a tall, slim black dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie, and his well-shaped head was bald and shiny as if it had been greased.  He had invited me.

". . . the reason we should logically call ourselves Afrikan Americans is that we've been influenced by Afrika and America.  America being the dream of the Europeans.  Anybody with any sense knows that some of our people will live and die with that European touch more outstanding than that Afrikan touch, and with others it will be vice versa.  So, whether we call ourselves Afrikan Americans or Afro Cubans or Afro Brazilians or Afro Puerto Ricans, we're still brothers and sisters of the black race, and we must identify with that race.  How else do we distinguish ourselves from those who don't identify as blacks -- Arabs, English, French, Spaniards, Portuguese, and Indians?  Our identity can't be based on color alone because we have brothers and sisters of all shades.  Some even in white skin.  Passing and getting rich . . . "  Loud laughter and applause interrupted him.

". . . when we walk down the streets in any country, nobody knows or cares what our name is or what language we speak or what our religion or politics is.  They just say, 'There goes one of those blacks.  They don't have a unique culture like us, they might do anything' . . ."  Some stood, applauding and laughing.
". . . and that has caused tremendous problems for our people and people that have anything to do with us.  Some of  us trying to be all-Afrikan and others wanting to be all-European.  We're taught that people are the embodiment of wherever they were and  whom they were with in their formative years.  Well, our ancestors, Afrikans and Europeans, on those slave ships were the beginning of our formative years,, and the unique formative years of a people must be reflected in their understanding of their culture, economics, politics, and religion -- for us the Animi-Ukristo . . ."  Wild shouting and  applause erupted in the place and the  speaker laughed and applauded.

". . . so, we need to decide what part of Afrika and what part of Europe we want in us.  Do we want the Afrika that's imitating Arabs or imitating the English, or the French or the Portuguese or whoever colonized them?  Or do we want the Afrika where in the 21st century millions still have no schools and are trapped in superstitious nonsense, mutilating their young daughters by cutting out their clitoris?  Amani iwe kwenu, Peace be upon you," he said.
"Amani iwe kwako, And peace be upon you!" they shouted, standing and applauding, laughing and embracing.
When I went up to him, he said, "Were my shots on target?"

Beware Thy "Friends"

"When we talked last week I meant to ask you about the rally"
"What rally?"
"The rally  that sounded anti-American and anti-Israel."
"What about it?"
"It was at the doorstep of the Capitol of our nation."
"Well, now, we can't be too hasty in judging . . ."
"Some of your former associates spoke at the rally.  What did you think of it?"

"Well . . . uh . . ."
"I remember during that rioting in Ferguson and other cities you and some other black politicians, preachers, and well-known athletes -- shall I say seemed to stoke the flames?  You even took that racial unrest to the U.N. in your speech there on September 24, although that anti-American and anti-Israel body hasn't a damned thing to do with our domestic issues --"
"Well . . . uh . . ."
"What do you think of Palestinians knifing Jewish men, women, and children, and throwing rocks at Jewish soldiers in the streets of Israel?"
"Well, now, we must be fair.  The Palestinians are our friends, too, and have rights --"
"Rights to kill Jews?"

"Well, uh . . . but, you see, you must consider . . ."
"If an anti-black rally had been held near the doorsteps of our country's Capitol would you have denounced it?"
"Well, uh, you see, uh -- there're circumstances that make that somewhat different . . ."
"Don't you think it strange that these black politicians, preachers, and well-known athletes who seemed to stoke the rioting with their "concern" for blacks haven't said anything against blacks killing each other in our cities as if they enjoy expressing their self-hate by shooting one another?"
"Uh . . . well . . . uh . . . no comment . . ."
"Thank you for answering my questions so enthusiastically."

Repeat Only In Whispers

"I've noticed lately that you're not grinning as often or as broadly as when you were first sworn in."
"Well . . ."
"Is The Office a more serious undertaking than you thought?"
"Well . . ."
"Is it like that ol' joke of the amateur baseball player after he'd been on a major league team for about a month.  He wrote home:  'Mom, I'll be coming home soon . . . the pitchers are starting to curve the balls.' "

"Well . . . one has to be truthful with himself about his qualifications ."
"The feeling here is that conspiracies against The Office -- especially from foreign governments -- are like those curve balls in the Major League . . ."
"It's not like in the movies.  They can arrange  the script to favor the top actor."
"In show-business, they prompt an entertainer to always smile for the cameras -- that's why I always wondered about that grinning you were doing and I would ask myself, 'Does he know the masked hatred he's got to endure from foreign leaders who've not dealt with one like him in the power of The Office?'  They've colonized people like you throughout the world, represent histories of Empires, fought centuries of wars to establish their countries . . . the power of The Office represents life or death not only for millions in our country but for millions in other countries . . . I guess that'll affect anyone's grin."
"One has to be truthful and confident about one's capabilities to execute in The Office . . . ."

The Chief

At six-years old he sat in an old rocking-chair in the living room watching his mother lying on a couch across the room.  "Poppa, " he'd called to his father who lay on the floor in the kitchen, "mama's dawdling on the couch again."
"Don't bother me, Mr. smarty pants, I'm having a wet-dream," his father had answered from the kitchen floor and mumbled, "that boy's headed for ruination."
One night coming out of the back of a lady's house where he'd been celebrating his nineteenth birthday he thought of jumping a two-foot fence separating the small yard of the house from an alley.  "You're a little groggy from drinking too much," he told himself, "just continue walking and step over it." Instantly, it became a challenge and he started to trot, intending  to stride over it, but the tip of  his left shoe struck the top of the fence and he plummeted, his head hitting the cement.  Much of the impact had been absorbed by his right hand, injuring a couple of knuckles.  He, however, had a headache for three days and started seeing flashes of light, hearing a voice in one say, "I want you to be my Chief. Go to a church . . ."

"What church . . ?"
"Any Church, and this is what I want you to do . . . ."
The following Sunday he burst through the door of a church and strode down the aisle, going toward the pulpit, shouting,  "And that man lived in the belly of a whale three days and nights . . !"  Abrupt silence muffled the church as all heads jerked toward  him, but he continued, ". . . didn't have no electricity down  there, no stove, no food, and no TV to watch football and basketball, and he came up out of there -- and if you take that literally, then this is the place where you should be learning about your culture, as other people do in their religious institutions --!"
"Blasphemy . . !" several shouted from the pews and two broad shouldered deacons rushed toward him.
"Don't touch him with impure hands, the Spirit is on him . . !" the preacher called out from the pulpit.
"Mockery . . !" screamed many from both sides of the aisle, and a stout black woman, straightened the blonde wig on her head, pushed to her feet and threw a Bible at him, but hit someone in the  pew next to him who jumped up and threw a Bible back at her, but hit someone else and Bibles began flying on both sides of the aisle as if they were Molotov Cocktails and a thunderous uproar filled the church, men, women, and children screaming and hollering and flinging whatever could be lifted, even straining and groaning to overturn the heavy pews as if they were in the streets over-turning cars to set afire or struggling to come out of shops with huge TVs or cases of beer, wine, and whiskey. The foundation of the church shook and chandeliers fell on people and pews and the  ceiling and roof trembled, scaring people half to death as they scrambled, running and tumbling on each other, their bodies jamming the route out of the church, and ceiling and roof caved in on them.
"Man, the preacher must have been really kicking it in there,"  an observer on the street said to a friend, as if he were talking about a hot, foot-stomping jazz performance or any other kind of entertainment.
"And not a cloud in the sky," his friend commented.  "Just beautiful sunshine.  Ain't never seen or heard of anything like that happening to a church before."
"Like they say, 'One man's pleasure is another man's poison.' "

By A Hair

"Everybody knows it, but they're afraid to say it.  It's the most powerful weapon our Party, The Flow, has."
"A large segment of The Tight Curl Party frowns when talking about it."
"Electing one like him to The Office would be an historic event in any Western World and Middle East Country.  We can show the world that we're not the race haters that the real racists, who're never mentioned, accuse us of being."
"We can come at him through his wife, picture her, The Lady, wearing an Afro . . ."

"Let's be realistic.  That Afro is a punch to the gut, an uppercut, a hard right to the chin, it's associated with the rough stuff of the '60s."
"Comparable to the wife of The Flow candidate stepping out sporting a military haircut . . ."
"Not even Miley Cyrus, with all that pulchritude and adorable audacity she has could pull that off."
"What about putting his wife in Korn Rows?"
"That's their cool look, and it goes down well with all segments of the population.  We've got to be more subtle.  I was thinking of coming at it through a scientific study as to whether a hair contains ingredients that measure one's intelligence . . . and conclude that it doesn't and that the God Spirit we believe in meant for some of us to have tight curls and others to have flowing locks.  That'll stir things up."

"I believe that knowing how you wear your hair can affect your goals in life shows intelligence."
"Maybe that segment in The Tight Curl Party is smart enough to know that the thing they have about hair is secondary to getting one of them in The Office."
"M-m-m,"

On Guard, For Real

"There are those who say, 'If I had the power, I would . . .' and they hate power, are jealous and envious of those with power."
"They're a contradiction."
"They don't see it that way.  They haven't dealt with the fact that if they had power they'd be hated too, by the powerless, as contenders hate the champ.  They wake up some mornings and the deranged hate is on their face, in their eyes, ready to explode on some innocent.  They hate to see a person smile or hear him or her laugh or express happiness in any way, especially if they consider that person to be of the lower class, as they are.  'What the hell does that ignorant scum find so wonderful to be happy about?' they think.  They forget, or maybe never knew, that one thing everyone, rich, poor, powerful, powerless, wants is happiness.  'Oh, ultimately, only with political philosophy can we persuade these justifiably angry people to cease killing and destroying,' they've heard some meek politicians say who're either ignorant or hypocrites, or both, to believe that one can reason with one who is mentally deranged.  'We will make mince meat of people like them,' the deranged hater mumbles.  What have those he wants to kill done to him?  They don't even know him or her?

"These deranged haters want desperately to be known, even if it kills them.  Why not satisfy them with their death?  Go on laughing, singing, dancing with the stars, playing, working, creating, but have someone on guard.  The deranged haters are watching, waiting; they're somebody's sons or daughters.  Our Armed Forces and police, alone, can't know them all.  For real.