Rwanda

While we’re getting set up, chew on this.

5/15/2007

Rwanda

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No matter how long it's been, no matter how long it gets to be, one must never forget the Holocaust. For one-hundred - no - not that Holocaust. I am referring to the small east African nation of Rwanda. For one-hundred days, during 1994, approximately 800,000 Rwandans were slaughtered, butchered, if you will, by the majority ethnic group, the Hutus. Of the 800,000 killed, about 50,000 were moderate Hutus and Tutsi sympathizers. The remainder of the 800,000 were Tutsi. To understand the situation, I will provide a very short, very abridged history.

Prior to 1994, the ruling government, or occupying force, was Germany. They placed the Tutsis in a position of higher status than the Hutus because the Tutsis had more prominent European features. The Germans left and Belgium took over. The Belgians continued the separation of the Tutsis and Hutus by issuing national identity cards, which declared each citizens ethnic heritage. By the 1950's the Tutsis were seeking their independence, and the Belgians began to switch the high status to the Hutus, as they felt they were less civilized and easier to control. In 1959, ethnic clashes broke out, and the Belgians allowed the Hutus to burn down Tutsi houses with no interference. After two weeks, 300 were dead. Ironically, the majority of those arrested by the Belgians were Tutsi. This internal fighting continued until, finally, the Hutus were in total command. By 1961, the Belgians had allowed the Hutus to engineer a 'legal' coup, thus declaring their independence. Then, in July of 1973, Major-General Juv‚nal Habyarimana, a Hutu, took over governance in a bloodless coup. He asserted, falsely, that he would allow the Tutsis to remain in virtual peace, as long as they did not get involved with politics.

Fast-forward to April 6, 1994. General Habyarimana was returning to Rwanda, by plane, when the plane was shot down, killing everyone on board. No one person or group was blamed for the downing of the plane, but it is almost certain that it was the work of the Hutus, who were convinced that General Habyarimana was beginning to give in to international pressure. Others say that the Hutus were simply willing to sacrifice the general to incite the population. An hour after the plane was downed, roadblocks were set up, and the hunt was on for those whose names were on a pre-prepared list of moderate Hutus, slated for execution. At that point, the Hutus went after every Tutsi in the country, slaughtering them with automatic weapons, machetes and farm tools. The final outcome: 750,000 Tutsis dead and 50,000 Hutus. Rwandan Tutsi refugees (in Uganda) had formed the RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front) back in 1985, and by now, had finally gathered up enough power to overcome the ruling Hutus in Rwanda by the end of the one-hundred days. By then, the damage was done.

Today, those acts have been condemned as pure and simple genocide. That term, genocide, only came into play after the Tutsi rebels had finally gained control, and put an end to the violence. During the time that the genocide was taking place, the international community was particularly careful not to call it 'genocide'. Some of the most blatant efforts to carry out such a denial were perpetrated by the United States. No politician, no part of the media, and no diplomats were to ever refer to the violence as 'genocide'. The senseless killings were referred to as 'acts of genocide' and 'ethnic in-fighting'. It was never to be referred to as 'genocide'. That would mean that, as a super power, the United States, or any other world power, would be obligated to step in. As it stands, Rwanda was left to all but perish. The UN Security Council voted unanimously to abandon Rwanda, finally pulling out the remainder of its peace-keeping troops.


In 1994, for one-hundred days, a wholesale slaughtering of human lives took place in the small east African nation of Rwanda, leaving 800,000 people dead. No one stepped in. No one even recognized it for what it was - genocide. No matter how long it has been, no matter how long it gets to be, one must never forget the Holocaust.

This is blackstarr saying “Vive La Renaissance”.

Blackstarr52@gmail.com

Rwanda, Hutus, Tutsi, rebels, 1994, Habyarimana, 80000, genocide, ethnic cleansing, murder rate, homicides, RPF, Uganda, holocaust, media manipulation, ethnic in-fighting, civil war

Oreo

I was going to post a poem, but after reading blackstarr’s insightful article on "Celebrities & Racism", I decided to take what he’d written a step further.

I am one of those so-called “mutts.” Like blackstarr, I grew up in ‘da hood’ and while I was never called a “mutt,” I was referred to frequently as “a mongrel”; in junior high I was nicknamed “Lite-Brite”. But most often I was referred to as “Oreo”.

My life has been defined by race since I can remember. My mother is white and West Indian; my father (now deceased) was black. My maternal grandmother was white, my maternal grandfather West Indian. My paternal grandparents were both black.

Given the fact that my father hated white people, it is amazing that he married my mother. I am sure lust played a part here, as my mother (now 72) was a stunningly beautiful woman in her youth. My parents married during a time when miscegenation was illegal in 16 states. Of my siblings - one brother and two sisters - I am the only one who took my mother's fair coloring. If you’ve seen Spike Lee's film School Daze, that pretty much sums up my life: people either liked me because I was light-skinned, or they reviled me for the same reason. Needless to say, this made life difficult on both sides of the fence I had to learn to straddle as the result of my parents' love for each other.

Despite my father’s hatred of Caucasians, he and my mother raised us to treat people the way we would want to be treated, regardless of their race, ethnicity, gender, disability, religious beliefs, socio-economic status or sexual proclivities. I took them at their word: my friends were white, black, Mexican, Italian, gay, Catholic, Jewish...a vast and diverse group that I took pride in being a part of; we referred to ourselves as “The Rainbow Tribe.” However, this was not seen as “cool” during the “say-it-loud-I’m-black-and-I’m-proud” era I came of age in. So I took a lot of ass-whuppin’s during the years I was held in thrall to public education.

My siblings - and the few black friends I had who remained loyal – did not understand why I felt the need to have friends outside my race. “What you wanna hang around dem honkies (or spics or wops or kikes or fags) for?” I was constantly asked. I was accused of trying to be ‘better’ than my peers. I was called “white girl” and “wannabe”.

No one was interested in my reason, which was simple: it was because they were different that I liked them. I have always had a curious nature, and I realized at an early age that I could learn from those who were different – we could learn from each other.

I grew old with the Rainbow Tribe. We got our asses whupped for and on behalf of each other. We attended each other’s weddings, bought presents at the births of each other’s children, commiserated with one another as some marriages hit those fabled rocks, and sometimes we cried together as our parents aged and began to die. Our lives may have traveled divergent paths, but the path that led to the heart of those friendships remains straight and steadfast, and our various colors has had nothing to do with it. Personally, I think the world would be much better off if we could leave color where it belongs: in a box of crayons.

Time for my Oreos and milk.

copyright © 2008 KPMCL


Oreos, mongrel, mutt, race, miscegenation, rainbow

Black Hawk Down!!!

While we're getting set up, chew on this.

5/17/2007

Do a search for Somalia, July 12, 1993, and you will certainly find quite a bit of information available. Most of the information will give a brief summary of what took place that day in Somalia. The most (so-called) significant information that is placed in the forefront is that the U.S. fired upon a house which was to have been occupied by the one person they so desperately sought. In the forefront, you will read that, afterwards, five (5) journalists went in to investigate and were killed. Always associated with that story, you will read that several months later a Black Hawk was down, downed by the leader that the U.S. had so desperately sought on that fateful day. The one thing that most reports fail to include is that the targeted house which the U.S. destroyed, housed not the enemy that was being sought. The house contained more than fifty (50) of the clan elders from Somalia, the eldest and most respected in their community. Ironically, they were gathered together to discuss a plan to stop the fighting and bloodshed. When the day was done, they all lay dead.

It never fails to bring a tear to my eye when I read that yet another U.S. soldier has been killed. The tears formed in the seventies, during the Vietnam War. They formed in the eighties during the fighting in Grenada. Finally, they formed again in the nineties, when I read the headlines "Black Hawk Down!" Unfortunately, as with most of the media, reports about what happens on any given day, highlight one aspect of a story, and downplay some very significant part of what really took place. July 12, 1993 was one such rearranging of the facts. Five (5) reporters were killed because a few moments earlier, Somalia's most revered leaders were blasted to smithereens without provocation. Later that year, a" Black Hawk was down" because the U.S. had launched an attack on those who were trying to put an end to that very same type of action. General Thomas Montgomery (ret), who was in charge of operations that day, was interviewed by PBS's FRONTLINE, regarding the events of that day. He would not state that there were leaders left dead in the house. He danced around the issue by saying "When the soldiers got in the building, there were either dead or wounded . . .".

Before there was a Black Hawk down, more than fifty (50) of Somalia's leaders lay dead.

This is blackstarr saying "Vive La Renaissance".

copyright © 05.17.2007 blackstarr

Somalia, Grenada, Black Hawk, July 12 1993, elders, reporters, Vietnam, bloodshed, clan leaders, Mogadishu

Celebrities and Racism

While we're getting set up, here's something to chew on.



I was all set to do a piece on celebrities and racism. If you are near my age, I bet I know what came to your mind first: Elvis Presley and John Wayne. That was to be my topic, and I did extensive research to come up with some insight and perspective. To my surprise, after spending countless hours of searches, I ended up with Kanye West! I will admit that my disappointment with Hip Hop and Rap has led me to put them in the back of my mind. Unfortunately, in doing so, I have missed out on some very important issues. This piece focuses on the words said by Kanye West in an interview in Essence magazine, back in 2006. Since it was that long ago, I have included this article under "How Soon We Forget".

In the event that, like yours truly, you missed the hoopla of the Essence article, Kanye West was reported as saying "If it wasn't for race mixing, there'd be no video girls." He went on to say "Me and most of my friends like mutts a lot . . .Yeah, in the 'hood they call em mutts." I did not read the article, but every search came up with the exact same words, so I guess that's as close as I will get to actually quoting him. I was disgusted when I heard the news of Michael "Kramer" Richards' comments, and I was ghastly appalled at the racist remarks made by Imus. However, this takes the cake. I have lived in "the 'hood" way longer than Kanye West, and in all of my 55 years, I have never called any woman a "mutt".

The first problem is comparing our women to dogs. It is even further humiliating when I can find no news article or web page that prints an apology from Kanye West. Heaven knows, I tried to find something that said he was worthy of at least some type of forgiveness, but I have found not a shred of evidence that he has made an apology. Perhaps he meant what he said and that it was not some off-the-wall remark - it came from deep inside. He apparently hates his own likeness. Whether one is of mixed-origin or from two parents of the same ethnic origin, one should never be called a dog.

The second problem comes in his claim that "If it wasn't for race mixing, there would be no video girls", which further extends his self-hatred. Of all the women that apply to be on music videos, of all the diverseness in style, complexion, and shapes, there is no one worthy of becoming a video girl other than those of mixed- origin? I have seen some of the women who did not make it into the music video world, and I must tell you that any given one makes my heart skip more than a beat. For that matter, those who were turned away at the door without so much as a "howdy do" are pedestal material.

The third problem is not with Kanye West, but with the young people who buy the cd's, the products, and attend the concerts of such vile people as Kanye West. They have the power to boycott, they have the power to say "Enough". I don't understand how they can listen to the horrendous lyrics that degrade our Black women, and feel that there is no problem, or that they have no obligation to take a stand. I suppose that if slurs don't come from Caucasians, it does not injure their hearts and souls.

I am not one who would purchase his CD's, so my boycott of his music does very little. However, my opinion from this day forth is that Kanye West is deeply rooted with a hatred of his own kind, and, regardless of his musical aptitude, he should not be looked upon as someone who should be esteemed in any way.

His remarks were printed back in the December, 2006 issue of Essence, which makes this news 'old hat'. And that being the case, this is just a reminder that we should not fall victim to "How Soon We Forget".

This is blackstarr saying "Vive la Renaissance". Peace.

copyright © 5.29.2007 blackstarr blackstarr52@gmail.com


racism, video girls, mutts, mixed race, hip hop, Essence, rap, Kanye West

suspicion ~ blue phoenix

an ugly
ever-present black cloud
smothers & crushes her
like an angry crowd
dulls her eyes
slays her song
fills her with shame
though she’s done no wrong
once more pain
invades her chest
as sorrowful thoughts
disturb her rest
around her dance the demons
of doubt & fear
& once again
the black dog draws near



copyright © 2008 KPMCL

self expression - C C Gill

i told my beloved i did not get silence.
i needed to
hear about
what is on
his mind.
He said
that was not his way.
I would ask him if he thought me pretty.
He said you already know so i do not need to tell you.
On another day
i had allowed myself to say
my soul, my heart,
had to cling to
some words
for this is what
binds me to him.
Like, did he ever miss me?
Or was he dying to kiss me,
still he nonverbally dissed me
and did not try
to fill to the empty places.
those pockets his spoken
thoughts could touch.
The last time i saw him
we fell upon the nest,
the bed,
and he touched me, and it
was that moment,
That moment
i held my voice,
my expression of choice
all to myself.
When he moves me,
i am most always compelled
from a deep private well
to scream unchecked,
uncontrolled,
and completely lost
in my abandon.
The last time
it was my orgasm, all mine,
i wouldn't share.
It was mine.
It was my own pleasure,
my own spasm
of one
thought,
time, and
place.
Then, from no where
He took
my self expression,
calling me,
calling my name,
and i didn't call
him at all, not once.
And his words
echoed around us
where mine
used to be.
When he left me for sleep,
That deep, rich sleep passion leaves you in,
i arose and gathered myself.
i left my pain
in his open hand
i left his door key
in his open hand.
I took my Zane Sex Chronicles,
and i reclaimed my voice
and left him forever.

Copyright © April 2008 by C C Gill. All rights reserved.

cee_duncan@hotmail.com

Love, poetry, passion, expression, beloved

What, exactly, does it mean?

It never ceases to amaze me that many people who neither speak, read, nor understand Japanese go to great lengths to wear clothing inscribed with Japanese symbols. For all they know, the symbols could translate to “I am so stupid”, or, of course, something much worse. Well, today, I come before you as Mr. Hypocrite. Fortunately, for me, music is universal.

For the longest time, I have been enamored with a Latino group that goes by the name of “La Factoria”. Their music mesmerizes me to no end. It makes me want to get out of my seat and shake a tail feather (no – you don’t want to see that). The music is almost otherworldly in its ability to make one sing along, even though he or she has no clue as to what is being sung. Yes – I blast their music without knowing whether they are calling me out of my name or simply romancing me. The words are in Spanish and I do not speak, read, or understand a lick of Spanish. Meet Mr. Hypocrite.

I first encountered the group while skimming the ‘net looking for music videos that I hadn't seen. The first video that caught my eye was for the song “Perdoname”, featuring a singer by the name of “Eddie Lover”. I wrote “caught my eye”. It would be closer to the truth to say that it dragged me head first into its lair of beauty and sensuality. Being one who just loves the ladies, there was no way that I could just watch, shrug my shoulders and move along. Once I finally got past the sensuality, the music began to grow on me much like the moss that gathers on a non-rolling stone.

Although I had not grown tired of “Perdoname”, even after about a week of playing it nearly nonstop, I was finally ready to see if the group had any other songs that would hold my attention. There were quite a few songs from which to choose, but, two of the songs disrobed themselves and beckoned me to become their love slave - and I was all too willing to oblige. The siren-like songs that captivated me are “La Pagaras”, and “Como Me Duele”. I now have some idea as to how the ancient sailors managed to get themselves pulled into the rocky shores by those sweet sirens of the Grecian Islands.

I have three songs in my collection by La Factoria, and have not even considered checking out the other songs that the group has to offer. I am still too fascinated by the first three. I could very well solve my dilemma of being Mr. Hypocrite by looking up the translations to the songs that I currently enjoy without meaning. However, I intend to wallow in my ignorance for just a bit longer. I’m afraid that I may not like the words that I find with the English translation. I’m afraid that the attraction and captivation will vanish. Fortunately, for me, music is universal.

This is blackstarr saying "Vive la Renaissance". Peace.

The Music of La Factoria

Pernoname (the video)

copyright © 2008 blackstarr blackstarr52@gmail.com

music, La Factoria, blackstarr, La Pagaras, Como Me Duele, Perdoname