Pretty soon brothers and sisters, the internet will be shut down. When it comes back up nothing will be the same. A genocide is about to happen. People will fight people will die. The revolution will not be televised, nor on the internet because the fascist control it. Englewood violence is caused by nazi police flooding it with drugs and letting the youth organizations aka gangs terrorize their people. I pray my mother who is on the plantation dwight correction center, knows that Malcolm X son is her president. He and black people will be blamed for destroying america. The white guards who kill her and me, will be shot and killed by thier superiors when the negro and hispanic is slaughtered. The god of the universe will kill this devil sometime in the future.
Love you dear mother. Love you Lamiea. love all your grandchildren.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
WarZone: Military Coup Coming For Obama What it means for Michelle AND YOU!
A military coup by the right wing racist southerners who CONTROL the pentagon is going to replace Obama.
Black women do you know what this means for you? Do you understand what a dictatorship full of white soldiers, southerns, racist in complete authority to do as they will with those black people remaining who are not rounded up in concentrationn camps, dead from the famine and purposely orchestrated chaos to justify this coup, DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS for you and your daughters.
Know your history.
KNOW YOUR HISTORY.
Dont let feminism fool you, dont let black nationalism fool you. DONT LET THE SOUTH fool you.
Build your network of brothers now, build your plan for survival now. These men from the south believe in emasculating your men AND CLAIMING YOU AS BOOTY. Always have been always will be.
Do you remember Monsters Ball. Do you understand why Halle won that. So you understand why a southerner billy bob played in it. Why a southerner matthew mcconnah gets the roles he gets. WHY EVEN southerner bill clinton was exposed in primary colors and even hired a secretary of defense who claimed him a black women.
Did you see Abu Graib for what it is. How sex by these men is used as weapon TO BREAK YOU.
It is true we have been guilty of many offenses against you. The worst of which is failure to protect you from this. Many of us will resist when this goes down. But if you study all wars and conflicts, sexual violence against women increases from crime, and from the police and military coming to impose a new reality on a people who they oppose.
these killers and anti obama forces are not even ashamed to let this stuff leak. Seymour hirsh A RESPECTED JOURNALIST WHO EXPOSED ABU GRAIB said Obama is up against the military. How many Coretta Scott kings and Betty Shabbazzes do we have to see the game is kill the men and let the women live.
EITHER AS WIDOWS or BOOTY.
Prepare yourselves dear sisters, protect your daughters. Know your history. The better looking you are the more at risk your are from being violated by bigots who have m16s and can do as they will when the men have been rounded up.
I dont know what the point of warning. God is going to teach all of us this lesson at the same time. I wonder who will remain. Who isnt going to be be raped. Who isnt going to be in a concentration camp. Who isnt going to prostituting themselves for food. I suspect god loves us as a people and would never let our racist enemies get away with a coup like this.
But I dont know. Africa is as black as us and I have not seen a god spare them from famine, rape, imperialism, and destablization by this satanic racist elites hellbent on owning the earth.
I am talking to you sisters as a child of prostitue. I am talking to you sisters as a man who knows white prison guards sleep with my mom. If they remove Barack and install the military, these southerners have a history of how they deal with US and YOU.
Black women do you know what this means for you? Do you understand what a dictatorship full of white soldiers, southerns, racist in complete authority to do as they will with those black people remaining who are not rounded up in concentrationn camps, dead from the famine and purposely orchestrated chaos to justify this coup, DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS for you and your daughters.
Know your history.
KNOW YOUR HISTORY.
Dont let feminism fool you, dont let black nationalism fool you. DONT LET THE SOUTH fool you.
Build your network of brothers now, build your plan for survival now. These men from the south believe in emasculating your men AND CLAIMING YOU AS BOOTY. Always have been always will be.
Do you remember Monsters Ball. Do you understand why Halle won that. So you understand why a southerner billy bob played in it. Why a southerner matthew mcconnah gets the roles he gets. WHY EVEN southerner bill clinton was exposed in primary colors and even hired a secretary of defense who claimed him a black women.
Did you see Abu Graib for what it is. How sex by these men is used as weapon TO BREAK YOU.
It is true we have been guilty of many offenses against you. The worst of which is failure to protect you from this. Many of us will resist when this goes down. But if you study all wars and conflicts, sexual violence against women increases from crime, and from the police and military coming to impose a new reality on a people who they oppose.
these killers and anti obama forces are not even ashamed to let this stuff leak. Seymour hirsh A RESPECTED JOURNALIST WHO EXPOSED ABU GRAIB said Obama is up against the military. How many Coretta Scott kings and Betty Shabbazzes do we have to see the game is kill the men and let the women live.
EITHER AS WIDOWS or BOOTY.
Prepare yourselves dear sisters, protect your daughters. Know your history. The better looking you are the more at risk your are from being violated by bigots who have m16s and can do as they will when the men have been rounded up.
I dont know what the point of warning. God is going to teach all of us this lesson at the same time. I wonder who will remain. Who isnt going to be be raped. Who isnt going to be in a concentration camp. Who isnt going to prostituting themselves for food. I suspect god loves us as a people and would never let our racist enemies get away with a coup like this.
But I dont know. Africa is as black as us and I have not seen a god spare them from famine, rape, imperialism, and destablization by this satanic racist elites hellbent on owning the earth.
I am talking to you sisters as a child of prostitue. I am talking to you sisters as a man who knows white prison guards sleep with my mom. If they remove Barack and install the military, these southerners have a history of how they deal with US and YOU.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Pastor vs The Politician
As I struggle right now asking myself why the Reverend Jerimiah Wright keeps pulling the scabs off shit making it difficult for Obama to run away from him, I wonder why and why not? I wonder why did Obama choose Rev Wright of all people for his pastor and his little church Trinity of all churches to be go to for 20 years.
Chicago is a large city. Trinity is not the only black church Obama could of selected to launch his political career or get close to his "christian" god. But he chose it.
I wonder if Rev Wright who has always praised Minister Farrkhan would just talk to Louis Farrakhan because the black muslim leader has been more supportive of not getting in Obama's way, then Obama's own pastor. Farrakhan the pastor was rejected and denounced during Obama's campaign with ease, and Obama I dont even think attended the Mosque Maryam once. I was angry but why was I because Obama had no roots there.
I was on this messageboard called Blackvoices.com telling fellow posters who mocked me for being angry about the Louis Farrakhan denunciation that Rev Wright is next. Most said never until it happened. A few people said I called it. I had no idea it would get this ugly.
In the book Renegade by Richard Wolfe there is chapter describing how the Obama campaign thought it was the end. Obama knew Rev Wright intended to defend himself just so close to an upcoming early important primary. His campaign told Barack like it or not not Wright will dominate the news for the majority of the days. Obama called Wright. They met in person at Wrights home.
The book does not show a dialogue. It cuts to the main point. Obama was told by Wright I AM SPEAKING UP FOR MYSELF. What I wish Renegade discussed is what I wish OBAMA and Wright would discuss. Which one of them wants to take one for the team and when will Trinity the church which has innocently been hurt by this war will be redeemed by both the pastor, and the politician who both unfortunately are representing thousands of people united by a faith that is unique and bigger then any one person.
Wright is not going away. I dont blame him. I dont think he looked at Obama as a politician when they relationship developed. Obama didnt accounce on the first meeting, hello my name is Barack Obama I plan to be the first Black President can I join your church, and Wright did not say my name is Jeriamiah and i plan to cause your Jewish campaign advisors many headaches, sit down and enjoy my sermons while you can.
This is a 20 year old relationship, politics came late in the game, especially big politics with talented people like David Axelrod and Rahm Emanual.
Sometimes I feel like asking Rev Wright, why are risking messing up our free healthcare, messing up a chance for us to get supreme court judges to control and change the court. You like Farrakhan and he is not doing that, why is it you insist on doing what you do?
Sometimes I want to talk to Obama. Directly like everybody I guess, I want to ask many questions he is too busy to answer but I mostly just want to know why in the hell would you select Trinity and that REAL PASTOR REV WRIGHT if you had any desire to lead this nation. What year was it you knew you you were going for Change and why is it you one of the most talented orators and speakers and writers failed to say something to Wright convincing enough he would let you cut ties with him, and I think what Wright needs most Obama is you telling him and Trinity when they can join Hillary and Mccain as your friends.
I sense a man who felt betrayed. I sense a man who had no faith you will bring change, and man convinced you will use black voters as ruthlessly as you used him. I sense a man hardened by reality, who refuses to go back to back of the bus, not for whites and damn sure not for his church member or student.
That book Renegade left out so much worthy of being discussed. I wish I would of stayed in Trinity and got to know more of its member while I briefly dated a member. All that year I could of wrote a book about Trinity's civil war so the public could at least understand both Wright and those innocent remarkable black christians I witnessed who had me so close to severing my ties with Islam and becoming the prodical son returning back to my christian roots.
This is war between a Pastor and Politician. Its not new. Malcolm said the Ballot or the Bullet. Martin King the pastor encouraged the Ballot, I dont know what black leader was seriously threatening the bullet other then Robert Mugabe and african independence revolutionaries and the guy who gave several to Dr. King.
But I do know somewhere deep in the Obama machine and 250,000 large crowds at Grant Park is there is a pastor, and a nation of pastors, with over 400 years of service that after that 1 election have been reduced to nothing. I do know this people long dependent on our religion to survive imperialism there was a collective shock at Obama's victory that I feel caused us to savagely throw over and invest in what we act like now is Gold. A leader, a real leader. An official Leader. Some say a messiah a man who skin was bronze and hair shaped like wool. Wright has stated over and over again, this man Obama is not Jesus, and perhaps he keep popping up in the media with these radioactive soundbites to drive that point home. Jesus is the last person you would think of that would be so ruthless to a friend of 20 years.
We treat Rev Wright as the the world seems to be treating the US dollar, we treat Louis farrakhan like the peso, despite the record of these spiritual leaders long service and a their storied reliable past, Obama's 145 days has caused black investors to rush to own this new Gold before the 2012 or 2016 skyrocking profits rake in from Change becoming real and valuable, and the Rev Wrights become wrong and worthless, the Farrakhans are exposed as fiat cons. I am seeing it time and time again on the blogesphere and message boards, black people are so excited at Obama and his beautiful intelligent wife Michelle their is a tendacy to disrespect elders and black fighters on other fronts that I believe need more respect and attention, especially now that Obama is in a fishbowl responsible for satisfying so many demographic and voting blocs, its highly unlikely we will not get our feelings hurt as he does his job.
Im thinking very hard about the Pastor and the Politician. About how healthy it is for the collective african american demographic to be this unified for one person, despite a long history of struggle that got worse after the collapse of powerful black leaders. What happen to the black panthers after the lost of Huey P Newton, the Nation of Islam after lost of Elijah Muhammad, the UNIA after the lost of Marcus Garvey, The Tuskege University after the lost of Booker T Washington. What will happen to black America after Obama leaves office? We literally are watching financial experts warn of bursting bubbles while proudly encouraging the blowing up of the presidential bubble. And sadly witnessing the bursting of the Pastor's bubble during a time where even Obama himself might admit a depressed nation could use God in thier life and church to get us through these difficult times.
I don't think this civil war will end with Obama or Rev Wright talking to each other. But I do hope the community stop pretending their is no justified pain from a elder investing some time with someone so interested in bringing his executive 8 year change he ruins 50 years civil rights efforts for change.
Chicago is a large city. Trinity is not the only black church Obama could of selected to launch his political career or get close to his "christian" god. But he chose it.
I wonder if Rev Wright who has always praised Minister Farrkhan would just talk to Louis Farrakhan because the black muslim leader has been more supportive of not getting in Obama's way, then Obama's own pastor. Farrakhan the pastor was rejected and denounced during Obama's campaign with ease, and Obama I dont even think attended the Mosque Maryam once. I was angry but why was I because Obama had no roots there.
I was on this messageboard called Blackvoices.com telling fellow posters who mocked me for being angry about the Louis Farrakhan denunciation that Rev Wright is next. Most said never until it happened. A few people said I called it. I had no idea it would get this ugly.
In the book Renegade by Richard Wolfe there is chapter describing how the Obama campaign thought it was the end. Obama knew Rev Wright intended to defend himself just so close to an upcoming early important primary. His campaign told Barack like it or not not Wright will dominate the news for the majority of the days. Obama called Wright. They met in person at Wrights home.
The book does not show a dialogue. It cuts to the main point. Obama was told by Wright I AM SPEAKING UP FOR MYSELF. What I wish Renegade discussed is what I wish OBAMA and Wright would discuss. Which one of them wants to take one for the team and when will Trinity the church which has innocently been hurt by this war will be redeemed by both the pastor, and the politician who both unfortunately are representing thousands of people united by a faith that is unique and bigger then any one person.
Wright is not going away. I dont blame him. I dont think he looked at Obama as a politician when they relationship developed. Obama didnt accounce on the first meeting, hello my name is Barack Obama I plan to be the first Black President can I join your church, and Wright did not say my name is Jeriamiah and i plan to cause your Jewish campaign advisors many headaches, sit down and enjoy my sermons while you can.
This is a 20 year old relationship, politics came late in the game, especially big politics with talented people like David Axelrod and Rahm Emanual.
Sometimes I feel like asking Rev Wright, why are risking messing up our free healthcare, messing up a chance for us to get supreme court judges to control and change the court. You like Farrakhan and he is not doing that, why is it you insist on doing what you do?
Sometimes I want to talk to Obama. Directly like everybody I guess, I want to ask many questions he is too busy to answer but I mostly just want to know why in the hell would you select Trinity and that REAL PASTOR REV WRIGHT if you had any desire to lead this nation. What year was it you knew you you were going for Change and why is it you one of the most talented orators and speakers and writers failed to say something to Wright convincing enough he would let you cut ties with him, and I think what Wright needs most Obama is you telling him and Trinity when they can join Hillary and Mccain as your friends.
I sense a man who felt betrayed. I sense a man who had no faith you will bring change, and man convinced you will use black voters as ruthlessly as you used him. I sense a man hardened by reality, who refuses to go back to back of the bus, not for whites and damn sure not for his church member or student.
That book Renegade left out so much worthy of being discussed. I wish I would of stayed in Trinity and got to know more of its member while I briefly dated a member. All that year I could of wrote a book about Trinity's civil war so the public could at least understand both Wright and those innocent remarkable black christians I witnessed who had me so close to severing my ties with Islam and becoming the prodical son returning back to my christian roots.
This is war between a Pastor and Politician. Its not new. Malcolm said the Ballot or the Bullet. Martin King the pastor encouraged the Ballot, I dont know what black leader was seriously threatening the bullet other then Robert Mugabe and african independence revolutionaries and the guy who gave several to Dr. King.
But I do know somewhere deep in the Obama machine and 250,000 large crowds at Grant Park is there is a pastor, and a nation of pastors, with over 400 years of service that after that 1 election have been reduced to nothing. I do know this people long dependent on our religion to survive imperialism there was a collective shock at Obama's victory that I feel caused us to savagely throw over and invest in what we act like now is Gold. A leader, a real leader. An official Leader. Some say a messiah a man who skin was bronze and hair shaped like wool. Wright has stated over and over again, this man Obama is not Jesus, and perhaps he keep popping up in the media with these radioactive soundbites to drive that point home. Jesus is the last person you would think of that would be so ruthless to a friend of 20 years.
We treat Rev Wright as the the world seems to be treating the US dollar, we treat Louis farrakhan like the peso, despite the record of these spiritual leaders long service and a their storied reliable past, Obama's 145 days has caused black investors to rush to own this new Gold before the 2012 or 2016 skyrocking profits rake in from Change becoming real and valuable, and the Rev Wrights become wrong and worthless, the Farrakhans are exposed as fiat cons. I am seeing it time and time again on the blogesphere and message boards, black people are so excited at Obama and his beautiful intelligent wife Michelle their is a tendacy to disrespect elders and black fighters on other fronts that I believe need more respect and attention, especially now that Obama is in a fishbowl responsible for satisfying so many demographic and voting blocs, its highly unlikely we will not get our feelings hurt as he does his job.
Im thinking very hard about the Pastor and the Politician. About how healthy it is for the collective african american demographic to be this unified for one person, despite a long history of struggle that got worse after the collapse of powerful black leaders. What happen to the black panthers after the lost of Huey P Newton, the Nation of Islam after lost of Elijah Muhammad, the UNIA after the lost of Marcus Garvey, The Tuskege University after the lost of Booker T Washington. What will happen to black America after Obama leaves office? We literally are watching financial experts warn of bursting bubbles while proudly encouraging the blowing up of the presidential bubble. And sadly witnessing the bursting of the Pastor's bubble during a time where even Obama himself might admit a depressed nation could use God in thier life and church to get us through these difficult times.
I don't think this civil war will end with Obama or Rev Wright talking to each other. But I do hope the community stop pretending their is no justified pain from a elder investing some time with someone so interested in bringing his executive 8 year change he ruins 50 years civil rights efforts for change.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Warzone part 31: When Englewood & Kenya Were Roommates part 2
Warzone part 31: When Englewood & Kenya were Roommates part 2
By Prince Akbar
warzonediary.blogspot.com
Before I offer an honest reflective commentary about Patrick Ntutu from Kenya, and try to take my readers behind the scenes of that article I wrote about him, I need to clarify something about Warzone.
Warzone Diary is written by an author born in Milwaukee Wisconsin, not Englewood. Warzone Diary is written from a poor community within Chicago, some have told me my address actually is not even Englewood. Chapters 1-4 occurred within 1 week from inside a ghetto apartment at 7525 S. Union, and for nearly 7 months Warzone not only was never on my mind, I did not not even know I lived in Englewood. For the most part I thought I lived down the street from Louis Farrakhans Salaam Restaurant, Respect for Life Bookstores and Final Call Newspaper headquarters.
What does this have to do with Patrick Ntutu and the part 2 addition of "When Englewood and Kenya were room mates? Everything!
Most moments in history are lucky to win shelf spac in mainstream history books, and most history makers are neglected to be honored on postage stamps, the history channel, and anywhere we digest some important historic person, place, or thing.
One of the most beautiful paragraphs of Obama's presidential election victory and acceptance speech was when he told the story of a 107 year old Obama voter who made his win possible. He covered her many decades of history and forward steps that preceded her latest act of activism. In a speech that could easily have been filled with praise and name dropping of Oprah, and left wing celebrities, David Axelrod and official Obama machine operatives, Keith Oberman and shameless progressive Journalist who campaigned for his victory Obama took the time to share his victory with an unknown 107 year old black woman.
He took the time to tell the 250,000 grant park viewers and millions worldwide the story of an unknown supporter and why this victory reflects America's greatness. There is much power in focusing on the least, the despised, the most unlikely, the neglected and the type of history maker 20 years from now probally won't be on the pop quiz of a history professor.
Because Warzone was born, in the womb of Englewood's hopeless drug war, poverty, crime ridden and narcotic drug lord controlled ghetto's, I purposely choose to claim it, and center my stories around it. Yes I have moved, so I don't plan to get rich and buy property there. Yes it is arguebly should be viewed as suspect my motives in claiming Englewood considering my brief time as a resident. No I don't care who's upset at the contradictions this admission exposes.
When Englewood and Kenya were roommmates really is a good thing because both myself and Patrick Ntutu were from the ghettos of our countries. I was the son of a prostitute and hypcritical black muslim who abandoned his son, (unless he shows up to give me better story) and Patrick was the son of a Massai Chief imprisoned to traditions and customs that left Massai people outside of Kenyan politics and thier economic survival was tied to tourism and charity from American and British lovers of Safari Trips. Patrick made history for his family and arrived at Roosevelt University's campus the first heir to attend college based off the bankroll of Deloris Jordan . Michael Jordan's mother.
I arrived at Roosevelt University my freshman year the first male college student from my family. My college was financed mostly and eventually by a wealthy Irish Catholic Priest who personally built up a $150 million endowment, that would pay for my education and my orphan siblings the state of Illinois contracted him out to care for during my youth.
Patrick confessed to me in that article were it not for a black man mastering a playground game basketball, he would of been milking cows right now. Today I confess were it not for Father John Smith, giving up his athletic career and opportunity in the NBA, I would probally be in prison right now just like my mother who was engaged in dysfunctional crime to feed her children. One students life was saved by a basketball star, another students life was born because of a basketball's stars apathy toward the sport.
I also must confess something else about that positive story I wrote for Patrick Ntutu. That story was my gift to Patrick. It was my humble attempt to thank him for being my brother and comrade during my stressful college years. Patrick was the reason I made the honor roll my first year in college (that plus the upward bound program guys) and if I am honest, I'd have to confess many of the mistakes I made in life were made in later semesters after I moved away from Patrick and into circles of influence more greedy, materialistic, and arrogant.
I remember the first time I learned he was my room mate. The dorms at Roosevelt cost 6000 a semester, which is weird because today I noticed my future englewood apartment was larger then that little closet. (New Yorkers used to expensive tiny living spaces are yawning,lol) The beds in the dorm came out of the wall , we had a mini fridge that always was empty (skinny kenyans roll like that naturally, skinny black american's roll like that because of lack of money for food.) We really lived modestly considering the rich sponsors that bank rolled our college fees.
I do not know at first that Patrick knew Michael Jordan, all I knew was that it was weird seeing this african dude at first dressed from head to toe in Nike outfits and clothing. He litterally got off the plane, showed up at the dorm on move in day, "niked out." He a winter long Nike coat, Nike socks, everything, I even think his passport was stamped with Nike. Until he opened his mouth I just assumed cool, my roommate likes Nike. Then he tried to talk but his english was horrible, so I just politely knodded my head and focused on more important problems like how in the hell will I make it past Freshman year after upward bound scarred the shit out of me with statistics about black freshman drop out rates. I really was paranoid about failing and dropping out. But I also was insecure because I was the Obama of my family, and if I failed college what would that say to my smiling GED havig mother who saw her child rise up from ostrasized gangbanger to college student. I needed to succeed for my mother, brother, sister, and myself.
Patrick was in the same boat. The Jordans had millions but they were cheap and thrifty as my catholic sugar daddy Rev. John Smith. And also they had a different approach to charity. The urban legend of PAtrick Ntutu was that Deloris Jordan toured Kenya. She was treated to a tour of Patrick's homeland by his proud father a Massai Chief. Whatever he showed her and did for her she returned the favor with a tip unlike anything I have seen or unlike any of he white tourist the Ntutu clan received from rich people.
"What do you wish for your children Mr. Ntutu?" Deloris Jordan said. "I want them all to get education." Patricks father replied.
"Okay." Deloris Jordan paid fo and arranged for this Massai Chief's mulitple children to go to college anywhere around the world they wanted. Patrick for reasons unknown to me chose Roosevelt University, and I chose Roosevelt after Howard University failed to send me an acceptance letter.
Roosevelt was the first and only college that accepted me. Patrick's sister chose a British college. Just as I called a white man "father mostly out of respect and fear, Patrick called Deloris Jordan "mom." But she really was his mother. Yes Michael paid his fees, yes Michael arranged for him to get off plane to go to Nike Town store and load up on free clothes but Deloris Jordan embraced the Massai Chirefs son as her own. Once Patrick shared with me a scolding he got from Deloris Jordan. He decided after his first semester he wanted to be a cook or hotel related professional that could make him have a good career in Kenya. Well Mrs. Jordan snapped Patrick Said. "I didn't bring you fro Africa o be a cook Patrick. End of discussion. Patrick Majored in business administration, and earned his masters degree, and Mrs Jordan never scolded him again.
My "father" after he used his money and power to persuade me to reject and denounce Louis Farrakhan never once expressed disappointment or excitement at my major in college. He acted as if black boy heres some cash your on your own. The first year I rebelled and took out a $25,000 student loan to show him Farrakhan means more to me then his millions. Hunger, stress, and exposure to hypocracy in the NOI broke me of my inner rebel quickly and I unlocked the black fist of anger and opened the black hand of the begger to ultimately pay for college.
I sometimes wished I was in Kenya with Patrick with Deloris Jordan as my sponsor. but Patrick would confess to me Michael Jordans disappointment with black american students he financed. He loved how Patrick volunteered to work at MJ's restaurant for extra money, how Patrick worked for good grades each semester to show the Jordan's thier investment was paying off. Patrick would tell me how Michael Jordan grew more impressed by him, and even though the black nationalist in me wanted to scold MJ for his conservative like bashing of blacks, I silently saw my own flaws making MJ right to be disappointed in American blacks like me.
When I last saw Patrick he asked me a favor. He wanted me to write MJ a letter trying to persuade Jordan to finance a Kenyan business Patrick wanted to start. He was being pushed by the Jordans to return home rather then do as most immigrants do work in the US and send money home. He also confessed to me some black nationalist like anger at white companies because he noticed despite his degree, mastery of English, he was having a hard time shifting to white collar work. I wrote him the letter trying my best to help him convince Michael Jordan for business financing. I gave it to Patrick and that was the last time I saw or heard from heard from my friend.
By Prince Akbar
warzonediary.blogspot.com
Before I offer an honest reflective commentary about Patrick Ntutu from Kenya, and try to take my readers behind the scenes of that article I wrote about him, I need to clarify something about Warzone.
Warzone Diary is written by an author born in Milwaukee Wisconsin, not Englewood. Warzone Diary is written from a poor community within Chicago, some have told me my address actually is not even Englewood. Chapters 1-4 occurred within 1 week from inside a ghetto apartment at 7525 S. Union, and for nearly 7 months Warzone not only was never on my mind, I did not not even know I lived in Englewood. For the most part I thought I lived down the street from Louis Farrakhans Salaam Restaurant, Respect for Life Bookstores and Final Call Newspaper headquarters.
What does this have to do with Patrick Ntutu and the part 2 addition of "When Englewood and Kenya were room mates? Everything!
Most moments in history are lucky to win shelf spac in mainstream history books, and most history makers are neglected to be honored on postage stamps, the history channel, and anywhere we digest some important historic person, place, or thing.
One of the most beautiful paragraphs of Obama's presidential election victory and acceptance speech was when he told the story of a 107 year old Obama voter who made his win possible. He covered her many decades of history and forward steps that preceded her latest act of activism. In a speech that could easily have been filled with praise and name dropping of Oprah, and left wing celebrities, David Axelrod and official Obama machine operatives, Keith Oberman and shameless progressive Journalist who campaigned for his victory Obama took the time to share his victory with an unknown 107 year old black woman.
He took the time to tell the 250,000 grant park viewers and millions worldwide the story of an unknown supporter and why this victory reflects America's greatness. There is much power in focusing on the least, the despised, the most unlikely, the neglected and the type of history maker 20 years from now probally won't be on the pop quiz of a history professor.
Because Warzone was born, in the womb of Englewood's hopeless drug war, poverty, crime ridden and narcotic drug lord controlled ghetto's, I purposely choose to claim it, and center my stories around it. Yes I have moved, so I don't plan to get rich and buy property there. Yes it is arguebly should be viewed as suspect my motives in claiming Englewood considering my brief time as a resident. No I don't care who's upset at the contradictions this admission exposes.
When Englewood and Kenya were roommmates really is a good thing because both myself and Patrick Ntutu were from the ghettos of our countries. I was the son of a prostitute and hypcritical black muslim who abandoned his son, (unless he shows up to give me better story) and Patrick was the son of a Massai Chief imprisoned to traditions and customs that left Massai people outside of Kenyan politics and thier economic survival was tied to tourism and charity from American and British lovers of Safari Trips. Patrick made history for his family and arrived at Roosevelt University's campus the first heir to attend college based off the bankroll of Deloris Jordan . Michael Jordan's mother.
I arrived at Roosevelt University my freshman year the first male college student from my family. My college was financed mostly and eventually by a wealthy Irish Catholic Priest who personally built up a $150 million endowment, that would pay for my education and my orphan siblings the state of Illinois contracted him out to care for during my youth.
Patrick confessed to me in that article were it not for a black man mastering a playground game basketball, he would of been milking cows right now. Today I confess were it not for Father John Smith, giving up his athletic career and opportunity in the NBA, I would probally be in prison right now just like my mother who was engaged in dysfunctional crime to feed her children. One students life was saved by a basketball star, another students life was born because of a basketball's stars apathy toward the sport.
I also must confess something else about that positive story I wrote for Patrick Ntutu. That story was my gift to Patrick. It was my humble attempt to thank him for being my brother and comrade during my stressful college years. Patrick was the reason I made the honor roll my first year in college (that plus the upward bound program guys) and if I am honest, I'd have to confess many of the mistakes I made in life were made in later semesters after I moved away from Patrick and into circles of influence more greedy, materialistic, and arrogant.
I remember the first time I learned he was my room mate. The dorms at Roosevelt cost 6000 a semester, which is weird because today I noticed my future englewood apartment was larger then that little closet. (New Yorkers used to expensive tiny living spaces are yawning,lol) The beds in the dorm came out of the wall , we had a mini fridge that always was empty (skinny kenyans roll like that naturally, skinny black american's roll like that because of lack of money for food.) We really lived modestly considering the rich sponsors that bank rolled our college fees.
I do not know at first that Patrick knew Michael Jordan, all I knew was that it was weird seeing this african dude at first dressed from head to toe in Nike outfits and clothing. He litterally got off the plane, showed up at the dorm on move in day, "niked out." He a winter long Nike coat, Nike socks, everything, I even think his passport was stamped with Nike. Until he opened his mouth I just assumed cool, my roommate likes Nike. Then he tried to talk but his english was horrible, so I just politely knodded my head and focused on more important problems like how in the hell will I make it past Freshman year after upward bound scarred the shit out of me with statistics about black freshman drop out rates. I really was paranoid about failing and dropping out. But I also was insecure because I was the Obama of my family, and if I failed college what would that say to my smiling GED havig mother who saw her child rise up from ostrasized gangbanger to college student. I needed to succeed for my mother, brother, sister, and myself.
Patrick was in the same boat. The Jordans had millions but they were cheap and thrifty as my catholic sugar daddy Rev. John Smith. And also they had a different approach to charity. The urban legend of PAtrick Ntutu was that Deloris Jordan toured Kenya. She was treated to a tour of Patrick's homeland by his proud father a Massai Chief. Whatever he showed her and did for her she returned the favor with a tip unlike anything I have seen or unlike any of he white tourist the Ntutu clan received from rich people.
"What do you wish for your children Mr. Ntutu?" Deloris Jordan said. "I want them all to get education." Patricks father replied.
"Okay." Deloris Jordan paid fo and arranged for this Massai Chief's mulitple children to go to college anywhere around the world they wanted. Patrick for reasons unknown to me chose Roosevelt University, and I chose Roosevelt after Howard University failed to send me an acceptance letter.
Roosevelt was the first and only college that accepted me. Patrick's sister chose a British college. Just as I called a white man "father mostly out of respect and fear, Patrick called Deloris Jordan "mom." But she really was his mother. Yes Michael paid his fees, yes Michael arranged for him to get off plane to go to Nike Town store and load up on free clothes but Deloris Jordan embraced the Massai Chirefs son as her own. Once Patrick shared with me a scolding he got from Deloris Jordan. He decided after his first semester he wanted to be a cook or hotel related professional that could make him have a good career in Kenya. Well Mrs. Jordan snapped Patrick Said. "I didn't bring you fro Africa o be a cook Patrick. End of discussion. Patrick Majored in business administration, and earned his masters degree, and Mrs Jordan never scolded him again.
My "father" after he used his money and power to persuade me to reject and denounce Louis Farrakhan never once expressed disappointment or excitement at my major in college. He acted as if black boy heres some cash your on your own. The first year I rebelled and took out a $25,000 student loan to show him Farrakhan means more to me then his millions. Hunger, stress, and exposure to hypocracy in the NOI broke me of my inner rebel quickly and I unlocked the black fist of anger and opened the black hand of the begger to ultimately pay for college.
I sometimes wished I was in Kenya with Patrick with Deloris Jordan as my sponsor. but Patrick would confess to me Michael Jordans disappointment with black american students he financed. He loved how Patrick volunteered to work at MJ's restaurant for extra money, how Patrick worked for good grades each semester to show the Jordan's thier investment was paying off. Patrick would tell me how Michael Jordan grew more impressed by him, and even though the black nationalist in me wanted to scold MJ for his conservative like bashing of blacks, I silently saw my own flaws making MJ right to be disappointed in American blacks like me.
When I last saw Patrick he asked me a favor. He wanted me to write MJ a letter trying to persuade Jordan to finance a Kenyan business Patrick wanted to start. He was being pushed by the Jordans to return home rather then do as most immigrants do work in the US and send money home. He also confessed to me some black nationalist like anger at white companies because he noticed despite his degree, mastery of English, he was having a hard time shifting to white collar work. I wrote him the letter trying my best to help him convince Michael Jordan for business financing. I gave it to Patrick and that was the last time I saw or heard from heard from my friend.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
WarZone 30: Fear Alone Can Kill You!
I think I just read a story that is symbolic of what is happening to our country right now.
I worry that the enemies of it know I am right and I also worry what if the allies of it don't mean to scare me? This was all concocted and executed with 100% confidence it will work better then any physical weapon designed.
Is It Possible guys to collapse the greatest world superpower, and powerful military force, and robust economic engine with just one weapon?FEAR.
Think about that?
Think about how brilliant that is, how simple, and how a nation can counter it without nationalized its media over night to offensively counter ALL negative stories IMMEDIATELY?
I think this is happening to our country. We are literally being destroyed from just the FEAR of the unknown. Unknown terrorist leader, unknown market forces, unknown terror cells, unknown solutions.
Read this story and tell me why this can happen to a old woman and not an entire country?I tried to copy and paste this story guys and for UNKNOWN reasons every link to it WARNS ME it will hurt my computer. THAT FACT ALONE SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME.
(editors note, for unknown reasons the search engine google reported a glinch in th engine the next day)
So I will type it.....
"Man (he's black) accused of SCARING WOMAN to death"Raleigh NC- Larry Whitfield was on foot, his rookie attempt at robbing a bank thwarted by locked doors, according to detectives, looking for a place to hide, police say, he found himself inside the home of a frightened old woman.There's no evidence Whitfield ever touched 79 year old Mary Parnell.
Authorities say he even told the grandmother of five he didn't want to hurt her, directing her to sit in a chair in her bedroom.But investigators have no doubt he terrified her so much that she died of a heart attack. Now Whitfield, a 20-year old with no prior criminal record, is charged with first degree murder, a rare defendent accused of literally scaring a person to death.
"He could've avoided all this by turning himself in, and life would went on Mrs, Parnell," said Capt. Calvin Shaw of the Gaston County Police Department.Michael Tigar, a Duke University Law School Professsor, said the proscutors will have work to do. "Jurors very often resent what they see as overcharging," he said.Why in hell guys is EVERY link to this story warning people dont clink it? Guys in my whole 31 years of living I never seen that?Englewood Warzonediary Author Prince Akbar thinks this is conclusion story for warzone. Fear is the worst thing to have. I feel less afraid knowing this one fact.
On Katie Couric Lil Wayne would say with a smile to her shocking millions. "That's the jus the thing Miss katie, im a gangster, and I do what I want, so I like to to smoke and I do.
His lack of fear scares them, it just enrages me because I never could be that fearless to say it on that channel.
I had to leave Englewood Guys I feared death. Bullets made me fear. Seeing the war next door made me fear. Am I still this old lady having moved away? Or am I going to be this black man SCARING folks wherever I go even not trying to?
Fear did Bin Laden do this or did we do it putting a Black Man in office? Who gets the credit if everything falls? Who gets the blame? Who survives? The scared or whoever FEARS the unknown?
I worry that the enemies of it know I am right and I also worry what if the allies of it don't mean to scare me? This was all concocted and executed with 100% confidence it will work better then any physical weapon designed.
Is It Possible guys to collapse the greatest world superpower, and powerful military force, and robust economic engine with just one weapon?FEAR.
Think about that?
Think about how brilliant that is, how simple, and how a nation can counter it without nationalized its media over night to offensively counter ALL negative stories IMMEDIATELY?
I think this is happening to our country. We are literally being destroyed from just the FEAR of the unknown. Unknown terrorist leader, unknown market forces, unknown terror cells, unknown solutions.
Read this story and tell me why this can happen to a old woman and not an entire country?I tried to copy and paste this story guys and for UNKNOWN reasons every link to it WARNS ME it will hurt my computer. THAT FACT ALONE SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME.
(editors note, for unknown reasons the search engine google reported a glinch in th engine the next day)
So I will type it.....
"Man (he's black) accused of SCARING WOMAN to death"Raleigh NC- Larry Whitfield was on foot, his rookie attempt at robbing a bank thwarted by locked doors, according to detectives, looking for a place to hide, police say, he found himself inside the home of a frightened old woman.There's no evidence Whitfield ever touched 79 year old Mary Parnell.
Authorities say he even told the grandmother of five he didn't want to hurt her, directing her to sit in a chair in her bedroom.But investigators have no doubt he terrified her so much that she died of a heart attack. Now Whitfield, a 20-year old with no prior criminal record, is charged with first degree murder, a rare defendent accused of literally scaring a person to death.
"He could've avoided all this by turning himself in, and life would went on Mrs, Parnell," said Capt. Calvin Shaw of the Gaston County Police Department.Michael Tigar, a Duke University Law School Professsor, said the proscutors will have work to do. "Jurors very often resent what they see as overcharging," he said.Why in hell guys is EVERY link to this story warning people dont clink it? Guys in my whole 31 years of living I never seen that?Englewood Warzonediary Author Prince Akbar thinks this is conclusion story for warzone. Fear is the worst thing to have. I feel less afraid knowing this one fact.
On Katie Couric Lil Wayne would say with a smile to her shocking millions. "That's the jus the thing Miss katie, im a gangster, and I do what I want, so I like to to smoke and I do.
His lack of fear scares them, it just enrages me because I never could be that fearless to say it on that channel.
I had to leave Englewood Guys I feared death. Bullets made me fear. Seeing the war next door made me fear. Am I still this old lady having moved away? Or am I going to be this black man SCARING folks wherever I go even not trying to?
Fear did Bin Laden do this or did we do it putting a Black Man in office? Who gets the credit if everything falls? Who gets the blame? Who survives? The scared or whoever FEARS the unknown?
Friday, January 16, 2009
WarZone part 29: Escape From Thugtomino Bay
Ladies and Gentlemen, this chapter concludes our adventures in Englewood, America's Midwest Baghdad. We have decided to do something America the super power will need to do to heal itself, help itself, and get out of the hell in Iraq. WE HAVE jumped ship, abandoned our post, retreated, fled, packed our bags, and cut and ran the HELL AWAY from Thugtomino Bay. The landlord who rescued us was the most nice slum lord we ever met. He was told he won't be getting his $900 rent, thanks to my giving it to a new landlord in University Village. We kindly despense with our furniture, gave away our television, many books, and whatever kitchen appliances we managed to buy and own, and went old school Harriet Tubman on Englewoods ass. We FOLLOWED THE NORTH STAR.
Englewood just is not fit for habitation. I am sick and tired of running home baricading myself in my house before dark. Tired of not enjoying my hobbies of staying out late enjoying poetry shows and movies and having the freedom to take a cab home if I feel like it. Taking cabs to Englewood takes charisma, perserverance, tough negotiation, psycological warfare and shit that just never fucking works in less then 10 attempts (8 attempts if dressed in suit).
I am sick and tired of the neighbors, the hood clients who don't want to change thier lives, and join me in my quest to become the man my mother never met or was raised by. I need people in my life who not only want to vote for Obama, or join Farrakhan for a million man march, but men and women who want to CHANGE themselves and compete against the world for honor and respect. I can't get that in Englewood. So the Fresh Prince of Englewood is bouncing from that sitcom in search of some bigger stage.
And just because we have left it does not mean we don't intend to respect the brave warriors and rebels who stay on that Englewood battlefield trying to help thier families survive the warzone. It just means I did not SIGN UP FOR THAT SHIT. I did my tour of duty and served with HONOR. I have zealously been a grassroots operative for Louis Farrakhan costing me scholarships, and jobs. I have zealously labored to raise money for voting for the first black president and used my poetry talents to fight the intellectual fight. And now at this stage in my life I need to focus on me, and accept responsibility for ME alone.
Its strange because for most of my life I have been a member of a family guilty of a strange sin. My family puts burdens on its young that only the elders should have. My sister was my mother at 9. I was the man of the family when my mother was imprisoned. So when Louis Farrkahn preaches venom and rage against the irresponsible black man who won't step up it carries so much weight on my soul to be the man my mother kept telling me I needed to be.
Well I am not falling for that bullshit anymore. I have my college degree, I have no children out of wedlock, I have both tried and succeeding on small levels entreprenuerialism. No man, from Farrakhan to Obama himself can dare belittle me as a black man as being irresponsible. I am responsible from this day forward to myself and to the family I hope to get should I repair the damage my dysfunctional family has left in me over these long 31 years of living.
I have read and laughed at the poem White Man's Burden but this shit has not been funny living with the Black Man's Burden. Englewood is a house on fire and staying in the bathroom sitting in water thinking you safe is stupid. RUN FOR YOU GOD DAMN LIVES.
I fled to craigslist, which is a fucking gamble. The cheaper the apartment the more risky and likely you moving 2 doors down from englewood. Plus in Chicago, its racist and segregated so you might find the perfect apartment with Matt Hale as the Landlord, roommate, or next door neighbor.
Then you could find a place with color, and dysfunction you trying to help threatens to infect you. Englewood had brothers offering to pay my heat bills with stolen credit cards. I said hell no, but my last bill was 400. It went from 71 to 400. I don't drive but how oil in saudiarabia is the only way to heat my apartment is beyond me. The CTA trains seem mighty warm and I just pay 2.00 to ride those. People's Gas is on some communist shit extorted people with those rates. I told them I moved and refused to give them my address. They calmly said okay and just went away knowing damn well that bill is gonna get paid either when I get married to a bourgie professional woman who cares about debts, or when I move back to Englewood after the Olympics kicks all blacks out of shit white folks will claim out south in 2016.
My new home is not perfect. Unlike Englewood I could be myself, and here I am trying not to be Englewood. I have new white, and asian room mates and I have been my uncle tom character laughing and joking and trying my best to relax them and enjoy me as a room mate. Its torture. I am a talented poet and I have a big contest with some opponents I really need to dominate and I don't know how I can practice in this fishbowl. I need the savings in rent and utilities to invest in equipment to help market my poetry cds and dvds this summer. But most importantly I need to practice. How do you memorize a poem whispering to yourself quietly? How do you compete with confidence without speaking your piece loudly with passion? Englewood offered that, but I could not get a black room mate or ANY ROOMMATE. Its a catch 22.
My poetry is angry at some times, silly and funny at others, and the metaphors and stanzas are purposely offensive and engaging. If you don't know me as a poet and performer, then you might eavesdrop and think I am unsafe to live around. I need one room mate, a wife. A creative wife would be perfect. But to get her I need to build a self sufficient decent income from respectable source, and this is hard because I need practice time and a quiet place to do my poems in full anger or rage and happiness that helps produce my victories in contest.
The great part of where I live is the healthy, vast food options, and also the public library across the street. I can spend saturadays there and just engross myself in the university setting. My new room mate I am excited about is a talented film student, and he can help me create a spoken word DVD. The white female room mate who I think is lurking reading this blog (which is weird because she told me keep my drama to myself and this blog is ALL MY DRAMA) is awkward, and ends every sentence to me with WHATEVER. When is "whatever" ever a good adjective? Its as if she does not want to just come out and say it, but leave her alone.
Fine, I am trying to just do that, but I told the landlord about issues like this. Worst part is I have no clue what i am in for with 4th room mate. All I know is I need to figure out how to do compete in a poetry contest with no safe, free, place to practice like I have always done. It does not help politics in poetry circles in chicago has me with no welcome home poetry venue in Chicago. The green mill thinks I am arrogant and not respectful and the black venues just offer me nothing but arrogant promoters and host intent on humbling me to do wack shit popular there. I need to move to NYC and make the Nuyorican Poets Cafe My new home. Either way, WarZone is done, and I am focusing on my poetry and spoken word. This blog started 5 minutes into a driveby shooting, and ends 5 days after I drove the fuck out of Englewood for good.
Englewood just is not fit for habitation. I am sick and tired of running home baricading myself in my house before dark. Tired of not enjoying my hobbies of staying out late enjoying poetry shows and movies and having the freedom to take a cab home if I feel like it. Taking cabs to Englewood takes charisma, perserverance, tough negotiation, psycological warfare and shit that just never fucking works in less then 10 attempts (8 attempts if dressed in suit).
I am sick and tired of the neighbors, the hood clients who don't want to change thier lives, and join me in my quest to become the man my mother never met or was raised by. I need people in my life who not only want to vote for Obama, or join Farrakhan for a million man march, but men and women who want to CHANGE themselves and compete against the world for honor and respect. I can't get that in Englewood. So the Fresh Prince of Englewood is bouncing from that sitcom in search of some bigger stage.
And just because we have left it does not mean we don't intend to respect the brave warriors and rebels who stay on that Englewood battlefield trying to help thier families survive the warzone. It just means I did not SIGN UP FOR THAT SHIT. I did my tour of duty and served with HONOR. I have zealously been a grassroots operative for Louis Farrakhan costing me scholarships, and jobs. I have zealously labored to raise money for voting for the first black president and used my poetry talents to fight the intellectual fight. And now at this stage in my life I need to focus on me, and accept responsibility for ME alone.
Its strange because for most of my life I have been a member of a family guilty of a strange sin. My family puts burdens on its young that only the elders should have. My sister was my mother at 9. I was the man of the family when my mother was imprisoned. So when Louis Farrkahn preaches venom and rage against the irresponsible black man who won't step up it carries so much weight on my soul to be the man my mother kept telling me I needed to be.
Well I am not falling for that bullshit anymore. I have my college degree, I have no children out of wedlock, I have both tried and succeeding on small levels entreprenuerialism. No man, from Farrakhan to Obama himself can dare belittle me as a black man as being irresponsible. I am responsible from this day forward to myself and to the family I hope to get should I repair the damage my dysfunctional family has left in me over these long 31 years of living.
I have read and laughed at the poem White Man's Burden but this shit has not been funny living with the Black Man's Burden. Englewood is a house on fire and staying in the bathroom sitting in water thinking you safe is stupid. RUN FOR YOU GOD DAMN LIVES.
I fled to craigslist, which is a fucking gamble. The cheaper the apartment the more risky and likely you moving 2 doors down from englewood. Plus in Chicago, its racist and segregated so you might find the perfect apartment with Matt Hale as the Landlord, roommate, or next door neighbor.
Then you could find a place with color, and dysfunction you trying to help threatens to infect you. Englewood had brothers offering to pay my heat bills with stolen credit cards. I said hell no, but my last bill was 400. It went from 71 to 400. I don't drive but how oil in saudiarabia is the only way to heat my apartment is beyond me. The CTA trains seem mighty warm and I just pay 2.00 to ride those. People's Gas is on some communist shit extorted people with those rates. I told them I moved and refused to give them my address. They calmly said okay and just went away knowing damn well that bill is gonna get paid either when I get married to a bourgie professional woman who cares about debts, or when I move back to Englewood after the Olympics kicks all blacks out of shit white folks will claim out south in 2016.
My new home is not perfect. Unlike Englewood I could be myself, and here I am trying not to be Englewood. I have new white, and asian room mates and I have been my uncle tom character laughing and joking and trying my best to relax them and enjoy me as a room mate. Its torture. I am a talented poet and I have a big contest with some opponents I really need to dominate and I don't know how I can practice in this fishbowl. I need the savings in rent and utilities to invest in equipment to help market my poetry cds and dvds this summer. But most importantly I need to practice. How do you memorize a poem whispering to yourself quietly? How do you compete with confidence without speaking your piece loudly with passion? Englewood offered that, but I could not get a black room mate or ANY ROOMMATE. Its a catch 22.
My poetry is angry at some times, silly and funny at others, and the metaphors and stanzas are purposely offensive and engaging. If you don't know me as a poet and performer, then you might eavesdrop and think I am unsafe to live around. I need one room mate, a wife. A creative wife would be perfect. But to get her I need to build a self sufficient decent income from respectable source, and this is hard because I need practice time and a quiet place to do my poems in full anger or rage and happiness that helps produce my victories in contest.
The great part of where I live is the healthy, vast food options, and also the public library across the street. I can spend saturadays there and just engross myself in the university setting. My new room mate I am excited about is a talented film student, and he can help me create a spoken word DVD. The white female room mate who I think is lurking reading this blog (which is weird because she told me keep my drama to myself and this blog is ALL MY DRAMA) is awkward, and ends every sentence to me with WHATEVER. When is "whatever" ever a good adjective? Its as if she does not want to just come out and say it, but leave her alone.
Fine, I am trying to just do that, but I told the landlord about issues like this. Worst part is I have no clue what i am in for with 4th room mate. All I know is I need to figure out how to do compete in a poetry contest with no safe, free, place to practice like I have always done. It does not help politics in poetry circles in chicago has me with no welcome home poetry venue in Chicago. The green mill thinks I am arrogant and not respectful and the black venues just offer me nothing but arrogant promoters and host intent on humbling me to do wack shit popular there. I need to move to NYC and make the Nuyorican Poets Cafe My new home. Either way, WarZone is done, and I am focusing on my poetry and spoken word. This blog started 5 minutes into a driveby shooting, and ends 5 days after I drove the fuck out of Englewood for good.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
WarZone part 28: Diary of a Talented Black Man
In the beginning was the word.
Printed in the Chicago Tribune's newspaper front page of the feature section on March 8, 2003. A young man who first discovered hiphop music by listening to a static filled urban AM radio broadcast on Milwaukee's Northside got a chance to do his art for a hiphop music legend.
Russell Simmons.
The next day a black man named Christopher Orr, working class yet excited enough to invest $25,000 on this performer at 14, called frantically with one strong request. "GO BUY THE NEWSPAPER Prince."
"Huh? What are you talking about Chris" I said just barely awake in my college dorm.
"GO right now Prince and buy the Chicago Tribune, you're in it," he repeated in a firm no bullshit tone before hanging up. Once I managed to find 50 cents, I managed to get a small taste of the respect I had been seeking for my entire life.
"But the rhythmic razzle, comedic flair and emotional outpouring that has earned spoken-word artists a loyal and growing grass-roots following waslargely absent at the Metro, as Prince Akbar, a Columbia student who wona student contest for an opening slot at the performance, delivered thestrongest piece.
I took a moment to digest that compliment. That was my goal the whole night. The show brought a myriad of storylines this reporter could of wrote about, many of which remain unknown until today.
In the beginning was the word.
Printed in the Chicago Suntime's newspaper July 22, 2008. After receiving WarZone part 1 via email Reporter Mary Mitchell decided a few quotes from a disparate and helpless talented writer would help her sell to her readers the value of an anti gang violence expert. She would quote the scariest stanza's of my diary as I wrote them seconds into my first driveby shooting in Englewood.
Mary Mitchell: Because most of us don't live with the sound of shots being fired, let me share just a taste of what it is like:
'I assumed this was a drive-by'"I live at 75th and Union, and last night 25 armed black young men took over my neighborhood," said Prince Akbar in a recent e-mail."After hearing one too many firecrackers, I finally admitted I actually heard gunshots. Arrogantly, I assumed this was a drive-by shooting and kept my lights on, walking confidently to peep out the window to see if anything was really worth calling the police over," he said."I saw a black man with a 12-gauge shotgun running directly to my house and taking a shooting position on the side of it. I looked across the street, and five black men pointed guns toward my house and flashes of light popped out in spurts as they exchanged gunfire TOWARD MY F------ HOUSE. Where these bullets were going I DON'T KNOW. I heard no glass break."All I saw was an empty street, no children, and it seemed every black man outside had a pistol and white T-shirt engaged in battle," Akbar said.
Normally in todays youtube celebrity obsessed culture 15 minutes of fame is the dream of anyone, and no matter how negative or embarrassing a fame seeker loves press. But something about this reporter printing my address and street along with the words "I peeped out the window to see if I should call the police" makes me think Mary Mitchell was thinking more as a bourgie black reporter and not a mother of a young black male in the ghetto.
Two phone calls I received that day illustrate how it was stupid of me to begin writing a blog about Englewood and how residents of this community don't appreciate the art of journalism. "Prince why in the hell are you talking to reporters boy?" Said a older black man that lived across the street from me within hours of the paper being published? When a white man calls you Boy, the Louis Farrkhan in you gets ready for battle. When the old black man calls you boy, the Louis Gossit Jr in you just says Yes Sir boss.
Later a professional business owning former client I had not spoken to in years called me out of the blue, giving me his own firm no bullshit order. "Prince move out of that house man, your gonna get killed, I own a property you can move into until you find a safer place." I hate depending on people and being weak because lets just say when beyonce sings Independent woman, I sing along with confidence and pride like anybody not dependant on another man. But my inner soul was admitting its time to run from the thugs, and although I am not one to open hands for section 8, I have no shame in accepting housing from this black man's section 7.
Hiphop created a rapper and writer in me who believes my words can do anything, including stop a organized criminal enterprise street thug from killing me, but eavesdropping by my window later that day made me move. A young black woman was reading Mary Mitchell's article surrounded by teenage thugs, and watching her read my words and those young men listening with shock made me realize its time to move. If Tupac Shakur could die despite his brilliance with wordplay, Prince Akbar does not stand a chance.
In the beginning was the word. Columbia College is holding auditions for 1 student to open the show for a Russell Simmons scholarship contest.
First before I could achieve success at this show, I had to deliver the strongest piece at a student contest with over 100 eager competitors. This competition brought out of some of Chicago's most talented black poets and rappers. People performed with so much passion and hunger, I sat in the auditorium awaiting my time to audition outwordly with peace and humility, but inwardly I was bursting with confidence and classic hiphop arrogance. I knew as a writer this opportunity to perform for this man, was something I was born for and something I had already written 2 pieces for that I knew would impress the 3 college professors judging and picking the student to represent Columbia College.
One by one the competitors unleashed the cliche. There was a DMX wannabe, a horrible Mary J Blige R&B ripoff, a couple talented poets that sounded like the Last Poets. Many different verbal athletes doing thier best work, but few who I felt did something that made them special to a scholarship benefit or Russell Simmons Def Poetry showcase. I had 1 politically charged piece with something EVERY competitor lacked, HUMOR, and a 2nd piece EVERY competitor lacked, "self deprecating humor" attacking my weight gain.
It was embarrassing, it was hurtful, but the spoils of victory are the best psychiatric therapy known to man. Since I dressed my art with humor and jokes, the crowd (ironically 90% were my competitors) loved it and the judges voted me number 1 to open the show. It did not hurt that my last stanza was the following. I signed up for Bally’s bills/I'm Popping diet pills/Screaming hell no I won’t swallow/But 41 fast food ads later And like Diallo I’m dead/Fat like logo’s On hats of Russell Simmons head."
In the beginning was the word. The Chicago Defender responds to my email and makes a housecall to get the real story.
The Chicago Defender reporter Kathy Chaney received a tip via email from me about warzone blog and the violence I witnessed, and my desire to share it with the black community because I felt both mainstream newspapers lack a real voice from Englewood or about Englewood. After Mary Mitchell's unprofessional quoting of me without a followup email to probe me for information, I just assumed the Chicago Defender would use real journalism to tell the story. Chaney in a story entitled "Gangwars make Chicago the Cities Deadliest," on Wednesday August 20th 2008 quoted me saying the following:
“When I first came to Englewood to look for a place to live, I apparently came on a good day and when evil was sleeping. It was in the morning, and activity was scarce in the area,” said Prince Akbar. Just a few weeks after he moved in, the scenery changed drastically, he said.
“I heard gunshots just about every night. I was terrified. There was a week in July when it seemed as though everyone in the neighborhood got a memo but me,” Akbar said, referring to a week when adults and children were in their respective homes by dusk.
A few hours later, he realized why. “I could see and hear gangbangers shooting at each other across the street. There was one instance where I had my window open, and I could literally hear guys whispering by my window and hear them reload a 12-gauge shotgun,” he said.
Akbar said that violence was something that he was not accustomed to when he lived on the North Side. He wants to move but doesn't have the funds to do so. In the meantime, he keeps a daily blog about what he sees and hears in the neighborhood.
“Violence in Englewood is on an Iraq level,” he said, hoping that his chronicling will help shed light on the “war zone” he lives in. "
“I heard gunshots just about every night. I was terrified. There was a week in July when it seemed as though everyone in the neighborhood got a memo but me,” Akbar said, referring to a week when adults and children were in their respective homes by dusk.
A few hours later, he realized why. “I could see and hear gangbangers shooting at each other across the street. There was one instance where I had my window open, and I could literally hear guys whispering by my window and hear them reload a 12-gauge shotgun,” he said.
Akbar said that violence was something that he was not accustomed to when he lived on the North Side. He wants to move but doesn't have the funds to do so. In the meantime, he keeps a daily blog about what he sees and hears in the neighborhood.
“Violence in Englewood is on an Iraq level,” he said, hoping that his chronicling will help shed light on the “war zone” he lives in. "
It's weird because I spent about 2 hours with this reporter, and her trusty assistant (her little sister) telling them about Warzone, giving them photo's of the bullet grazed window of my house, showing them blurry camcorder footage of gangbangers with guns patroling my house, and basically trying my best to show them the real fear and danger in Englewood.
I left them hearing a "hollywood producer like promise" from Kathy Chaney to come back with a posse of producers and go back during the day to the Englewood gang banger stronghold and interview others. I left Kathy Chaney hearing her promise that although she did not read warzone, she intended too after our interview to learn more. The truth is they never came back. The truth is she never read warzone, or quoted its name to her black readers, or used any of the digital photo's I labored and sent to her. But she did later ask to be my friend on facebook.
Ironically the Suntimes article that was published lead to a black man offering me better housing, and the Chicago Defender article lead to a white female real estate broker "in urban areas" offering me better advice.
She found me by using google.
No other black reader of the defender would google me. She did. She clued me in on future stories and some economic driven crimes affecting my community.
If Strom Thurman changed his racially divisive philosophy because of personal interactions with black people, and progressive whites it must be said I have toned down my black nationalist angry rhetoric because of passionate whites like the real estate broker and progressive black people like my landlord.
In the beginning was the word.
His "What the [Expletive] Are You Talking About George"was a biting yet humorous take on what Akbar sees as President George W.Bush's misguided international policy. "How you gonna scare Osama?"Akbar questioned. "When one bag of pretzels gave you drama?"After Akbar stirred the crowd, the Def Poets, for the most part, failed to capitalize on the momentum the student generated."
Rappers LL Cool J battled Kool Moe Dee in hiphops first verbal wargame. I battled President George W. Bush before Barack Obama uttered the words Hope. In LL Cool J vs Kool Moe Dee No one died in shootouts, no one was arrested for fighting. In Jus Rhymz vs the President the secret service was defenseless at my successful satiric sniper shots at George Bush. LL Cool J vs Kool Moe Dee was the first time in my life I witnessed the power of using your words to attack someone, and lift up yourself. Like a proud student, I used what I learned from my hiphop teachers to attack my enemy.
"The Broke kids are being all they can be in a new afghan state/the Bush kids are drinking all they can drink in Cancun for spring break/What the FUCK are you talking about George?
The venture capitalist and money man behind one of those amazing wordsmiths LL Cool J was Russell Simmons. In hood folklore, we knew nothing of Bill Gates and his nerdy software, but we knew everything about the hood multimillionaire who dressed in sneakers at his office. Mr. Simmons had been the man behind so many young black male millionaires, from teen heartthrob LL Cool J and funnyman Martin Lawrence, no one had to tell this Prince Russell Simmons is a kingmaker.
For most of my life hiphop was something I expereinced less as a fan and more as a player. I would rap and battle on playgrounds, I would rap and flirt with females over the phone, I would rap and use words to get people to like me and make me a part of the family I never had. Hiphop was not a fad for me, or some cute thing you play around with to piss off your suburban parents. It was my life and those words I put to paper now that I look back were the most Christian or Muslim act of faith I have ever practiced naturally. The word.
When this country went to war in Iraq I was so angered at the arrogance and brutal execution of American's war machine I did nothing in my dorm but make poetry that I am sure homeland security would of heard about had I said those words publicly. I wrote a poem called American Nazi, and the hook went like this.
Be all that you can be/ get an edge on life/ American Nazi/
I would repeat and perform that angry poem so much, thank god I just relaxed and wrote something with humor to attack this illegal war. The only difference between Louis Farrakhan and Chris Rock is the jokes and Rocks frugal budget on security. Humor is great for me because it disarms me of this false sense of entitlement when confronting white people of something. Black Nationalist tend to speak AT or DOWN to whites, but black comedians and humorist have to humble themselves as performers and attempt to use jokes that give white people the right to not laugh and even boo the self righteous critic off stage. I love the justice in that. Which is why I have tried to pen more spoken word with humor as a central theme.
When the Columbia College contest was coming close I had written "What the Fuck are you talking George," and performed it locally to pleased fans. I knew it was good enough to scrap both of the poems that won the colleges contest. But I was worried about memorizing it. I did not want to forget my poem and have Russell witness me bombing. I just wanted to rock that stage attacking the USA's bombing of innocent Iraqi's.
Something in me told me to perform it and I was pumped. But god gave me two more incentives to perform well. One of the Def Poets performing that night in the show was Bassey Ikpi. Bassey is a sucessful Nigerian American professional spoken word artist who clashed with me on Def Poetry Jam's message board, where I ranted and dissed Def Poets from season 1 with ruthless envy and arrogance. She would shut me up saying she was a professional poet who "butters her bread" doing spoken word and not some nerd ranting online.
I always wanted a head to head battle with these spoiled brats who won over casting agents for Def Poetry, and the March Show was my chance. Adding to the backstage drama, was another great Def Poet, Kayo.
This black man was the most powerful spoken word artist I have ever seen to this day. Ironically during my first and only trip to New York City's famed Nuyorican Poets Cafe I witnessed him perform in person after seeing him give a charismatic and electric performance on Def Poetry.
His voice was deep and booming like an 808 kick drum. His words were intelligent and spoken with a clarity rare among black male performers in hiphop. You could tell he was trained in classical theatre but hiphop was fused in his lyrics so he just shitted on competitors all the while sounding like a 1800 shakespearean actor.
I took a train home and within 2 days in Chicago I ran in Kayo lost in downtown Chicago. I volunteered to show him around city, took him to my dorm and we talked about his wonderful life now as a poet. I accompanied him to a neo soul concert where he performed opening up for R&B Bilal who was hot back when rap artist Common was blowing up.
When he left Chicago Kayo was no longer a Def Poet on TV I envied, he was an angel sent from God telling me my dream can happen and will if I work hard and have faith. Seeing his name on the Columbia College press packet annoucing Russell's hand picked Def Poets and next to Bassey's made me excited about performing for Russell, competing with Bassey, and meeting my old friend ON STAGE with Kayo.
Later that night I met Bassey, rolling her eyes and ignoring me backstage even after I sucked up my pride and offered friendship. I met Kayo who shockingly looked at me with disgust and barely spoke to me, only telling me Bassey talked about me to him on the plane ride.
In the Beginning was the word.
Warzone now is 26 chapters deep. We have chronicled the struggles we faced as a member of the working poor urban underclass, and chronicled the rise of Barack Obama. We have grown as a writer, a person, and as a hiphop spoken word artist. We even just learned the new apartment I live in from which my landlord moved me is STILL IN ENGLEWOOD.
Ironically the black man who moved me here witnessed a drive by in this apartment, and today he has moved with his new wife to Bronzeville. Yesterday the Chicago Tribune wrote something he might not like about the southside.
In a story entitled "Segregation City" by Azam Ahmed, and Darnell Little the Tribune tries to describe Chicago's famed segregation as something that is by choice and just reflective of economics. It offers the following scary stanza for my landlord and his new wife in Bronzeville. Describing black professional Rosalyn Bates who moved to Bronzeville it says; "She, however, may pay more dearly for her decision. Segregated African American neighborhoods have less access to health care, quality education and employment opportunities than white areas, the research shows."
My friend is so optimistic about life. He started a online company and is using his self taught wisdom about google and search engines to make a profit in the marketing business. He donates his time to me and listens to my rants about black america late into the night before he demands we cut our talks short so he can get back to business. He always seems to stress to me how he is about action and not talk. It is inferred I talk too much. The truth is I talk because no one seems to listen. No one seems to talk about the people and the problems they are facing right now in places like Englewood, unless it is a reporter talking about the crime.
So I started a blog, which is not profitable in any way imaginable to talk about crime IN OUR VOICE. My landlord knows I have a professional skill in selling advertising and marketing products to c level executives and he respects my desire to avoid calling those elites because I have convinced him they offer no solutions for me and my community.
I believe the progressives in Bronzeville and even black elites in Hydepark bullet proof mansions need zealots like me to stay in Englewood and report and network with the poor. It appears according to the Chicago Tribune research, the ghetto will claim many victims, even those in the colored VIP section.
In the beginning was the word.
Malik Yusef the relaxed urban wordsmith was backstage nursing a broken hand from some street fight he got in during a show in Las Vegas and he had no clue the beef backstage. He kept asking me why was I so tense. I ignored him, because until that show I knew nothing about him. My first time hearing him perform was hours after I did and I mingled in the VIP section.
After the show a white male stood next to me, and we started debating the pros and cons of the show. I got so into the debate that I ignored a black male coming up to meet me and ask a question. What I did not know is this young brotha was part of Malik Yusef's entourage, and he wanted to introduce me to Malik and network. Instead of networking I wasted my time, debating the pros and cons with a white man who turned out to be the reporter of the Chicago Tribune Story my incarcerated mother read with pride. A reporter who would later rebuke me in a personal email after I thanked him for his story and asked him for tips to help me improve. "What the hell is wrong with you he retorted? Are you doing this on purpose?" he wrote before never writing me back again.
That night I asked Russell Simmons over and over, "WHO was the best Russell? Who was the best tonight?" I needed to hear him say it. I knew it, the Chicago Tribune knew it. He ignored me but I kept it up. Then he paused and said in true yoda like fashion, "Prince you were the most relevant."
I felt defeated because I wanted to be the best. I wanted to get signed. I wanted to get the record deal I passed up when I joined Louis Farrakhan at 16. I wanted a mansion. I wanted a fancy car. I wanted to be the Fresh Prince of bel Air, Instead now I am the Fresh Prince of Englewood.
In the begining was the word.
WarZone it's 28 chapters now and like Governor Rod Blagovich I believe these dispatches are golden, and I will not writing them and publishing them FOR NOTHING.
A hiphop legend told me I was the most relevant, so since that is my brand, me and Englewood will continue reporting the most relevant news from the hood, about the hood, and in the arrogant voice of the hood.
I wanted fame and respect as a writer. Instead I got 1 compliment, and photo backstage, and the silence of the richest black man I have ever met in my life. I wanted the Hamptons, and thank God I got Englewood.
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