Oh my people, are you areware of the many levels of game this world has and is playing on people of color? It is usually the most educated of our African brothers and sisters who come over here to America.
Immigrating Africans are instructed by their “colonization advisers” to be separate from us – controlling their heads. “Those Blacks are savages; stay away from them,” they are told. “You are better than them.”
At the same time, these same “advisers” have showed (via the all encompassing media) Americans of African descent (us) images of Africans (through distorted movies and television shows about Africa (remember “Tarzan”) running around like savages in the bush or on the evening news starving to death or at war shooting at each other because of long-standing tribal disputes.
Immigrant Africans here in America must realize the majority in this nation look upon them the same way they look upon American born Africans. If there is something wrongwith us, there is something similarly wrong with you? Many Africans come to America believing they are more civilized, smarter and more respected than the African Americans who have been here for over 400 years.
It’s that kind of thinking by our African brothers and sisters that allows the European society to keep us divided. As long as the designated person or people are their subordinates, they’re okay. They can sleep at night.
Sure, everyone wants to have an edge; African immigrants are no different. But why pursue that edge at the expense of their American born African brothers and sisters.
Why must you try to destroy us for you to “make it?”Why not strive toward success together? Prove yourself better by working and cooperating with your distant blood relatives?
The poetic verses printed above right were written for a teacher of mine. He worked for DePaul University. He was so refined and so well dressed. His mother was Erithrian and his father Italian. He believed his mother to be backwards and holding on to the old ways.
I used to bring my son to class and something about me reminded him of his mother. Perhaps it was because I covered my head or my clothing totally covered me in a dated style.
He told us howAfrica was so poor and needy; how people there couldn’t feed themselves, as well as the history of colonization– inasmuch as who colonized each country.
I wondered how could he be raised in Africa and lose his vision and/or knowledge about his own land. He obviously discounted his mother’s input, accepting without question the perspective of his Italian father.
When it was my turn to give a report, I would contradict what he taught us aboutAfrica. I noted in my report thatAfrica knows how to feed herself and she is not poor; that she has great wealth, vast amounts of oil, diamond mines, enormous gas deposits, all types of gems and precious
. How could she be poor?
I also exposed the fact the colonizers were the major source of trouble on the continent; how American banks were setting up so-called “nature reserves” for the animals they nearly brought to extinction, when in reality they were camps to train boys to kill.
These boys were stolen through raids on the villages. The militia was paid to imprison them, torture and impose all kinds of unnatural acts on them and then forced them to kill or be killed.
The colonizers would take them to other villages and order them to burn the crops and the homes, slaughter the animals and so on.
To cover their crimes, they would “spin” (with the help of their friends in the media) the events in such a way the world would unwittingly believe the atrocities were committed by the people of the village or tribe.
I wrote how other militias would go into neighboringAfrican countries and commit inhuman acts, such as cutting off the breasts of mothers so they couldn’t feed their young.
My report also revealed the continent of Africa is so large, America can fit into it three-and-a-third times.
Rather than welcome my facts, my African/Italian teacher rejected my report. I was not regurgitating the misinformation he thought he was “teaching” me. I had exercised freedom of thought. Fortunately, the class was co-taught by a colleague of my teacher who happed to be a White. This teacher gave me a grade of “B.” If he had not intervened, I by my “African Brother.”
Out of slavery has been forged within us the ability to bring the “psychologically dead” back to life by giving our people the medicine of truth. We—Americans of African descent—have experienced and survived the evils of slavery and Jim Crow. Our African born brothers and sisters have not. Given this fact, I ask my distant blood relatives to give us the respect we fought, marched, bled and died for and stop hating on us!
Come out of the desert, my people; and bring your families with you.