In Case You Missed My Tweets
June 28th, 2015

Yesterday evening, I went and saw the screening of Children of Adwa by Professor
Haile Gerima and it had a profound effect on me.

Driving home, I couldn't focus for I was already feeling fire brewing in my gut. I was
galvanized. The following tweets began after I got home, about forty minutes past
midnight, and couldn't do anything but let out what I was feeling one hundred and forty
characters at a time.

Now, feeling a little diffused, calm and collected, I wanted to put them all together for
the sake of continuity and record keeping and post them here. The time stamps for each
tweet can be found on my twitter account and I've taken the liberty to add words and
strike out a couple that I mistyped.


Your freedom without your history is meaningless. But, even more crucially, it's the way
u can turn humans into self-enslaving sheeps! #Adwa

OH MY GOD! To say 'thank you' to a man that shows you the North Star when you're
lost at sea is so unsatisfactory bordering on guilt. #Adwa

Deeds. I've always known deeds to be the best way you pen your character and I
pledge  to life, the world and Love to return in infinite fold

what I have received in tonight's screening of #ChildrenOfAdwa by @ProfHaileGerima
who is fighting the good fight in making history makers.

Thrills and frills to pass the time are luxuries that people who are not in touch with their
history cannot afford.

To lead a meaningful life one has to be, speak, live meaningfully & u can't do that if u
don't love yourself & u can't love yourself if u

don't know who u are! #Adwa #History

In today's confessional culture which I'm finally guiltless-ly exploiting, it's an enigma  
how in the dark I've been of something so basic.

My search for Truth so far had been a pitiful and yearn-ful stand-in for the real thing.  
Blissfully blind from head to toe, the weight of

words have been eluding me like the weight of deafening silence of which I had felt  
entitled to break with my idiocy & ignorance.

Of such mettle, OH LORD, of what such precious mettle am I a descendant of. Busy  
buying myself 'wisdom' I've been selling my soul short.

In July, my play will decry the blind-deaf-mute life I've been leading as so far as an
'Ethiopian' & clearly putting on display the

misalignment inherent in my stifled, unacknowledged, suffocated voice.

Boy, if after this day I live a minute - a second - that doesn't lead me closer to the home
in my blood then I don't am (not) worthy of mercy.

Since my graduation May of last year i've been waiting for some sort of financial sign
from God. He ignored my naiveté but didn't ignore me.

Little did I know, & even less did I understand, that He would rather I had the priceless  
currency of Life: my identity.

Last night or this morning, as I was driving the song "Don't Speak" by No Doubt came
on & now I'm thinking au contraire ma cherie Gwen...

No doubt will I be SPEAKING. No doubt will I be spoken. No doubt will I ever be
spoken for, if I can help it. No doubt will my voice matter.

Celebrities are not stars. Old people with their first hand stories worthy of an
encyclopedia if not more are 'cause when they speak

their voice shines as it cuts through time & reaches us glowing with substance, with
meaning, with natural poetry, unadulterated TRUTH.

Consumerism, Capitalism, Dogmas fabricated out of boredom or decadent privilege are
as ephemeral as a passing thought seen through...

Time's prism. But my character, who I am as a human being, my actions, the choices I
make in how I respond when the world is cruel are as

immortal as Time because to know One's Self is to be IN Time and inside Time, there is
none. Peace, Acceptance, Love in the I of the storm.

Could it be that Escapism is arguably the dominant aspect of American consumerism
because America wants to eschew it's unfavorable past?

But Escape Therapy is an oxymoron. One can only exorcise the ghosts of History past
by accepting it.

But one can't save a person who's actively trying to drown the self so as to avoid the
unforgiving light of redemption.

So then how can I participate in this act of self-terrorism that stems from a particular
wound of history that chooses to medicate to heal (itself?)

I have been ever so foolishly forsaking my own history purely based on a shameful
assertion to 'civilize' myself only to act barbaric.

Left my country thinking 'I'm going to a land of civilization' & the REAL America is very
civilized but it is sadly buried deep out of sight

Like a lost and indebted spiritual archaeologist, only now am I picking up my tiny brush,
to attempt caressing the bones of my ancestors.

Begin. (The movie
Bush Mama)

Could it be perhaps that Justice is a social construct that The Savage World of profit-
seeking Victims of Evil refuses to acknowledge?

& that perhaps being Just with ourselves precedes seeking, striving, actively contributing
to a never truly realized dream of a Just world?

Could Peace then be reconciling the brutally unjust world with one's vision of the world
through an act (of) unconditional compassion?

27 mins left before I finish watching what I'm appropriating to be my spiritual talisman
that is Bush Mama by @ProfHaileGerima #CouldntWait

Perhaps what makes Evil people powerful is their un-apologetic interpretation of freedom
only in terms of their capacity to manipulate it.

Meanwhile a good hearted fool not unlike myself struggles to give himself permission to
fully accept (the fact that) not only am I worthy of freedom but

(that) my blood runs on nothing but.

The World is an Artist trying to find its voice with the ink of our blood on the canvass of

Our power lies not in the color of our skin but our character.

Or rather not *only in the color of our skin but also in the color (of) our character.

Bush Mama. Thank you Haile Gerima for asserting my suspicion that Beauty is a
question; the act of curiosity in the face of impossibility.

Your movie successfully & constantly put me in between the character and her story,
forcing me to examine myself as she does herself.

I was simultaneously an active witness to her story while being her priest to whom she
confesses her disillusion through her hopeful eyes.

Her story; her transformation from being a passive fighter to one that finally welcomes it
to save one's flesh & blood is a universal story.

Even without the historical context of racism, it will still hold true because survival
knows no color and survive she did.