Preacha-man

I says, they call me Preacha-man, because I’m full of advice
Wrong or right, up and down, on your situation, I’ll shed light

And it’s not because I know it all or have been given this great ability
I’m just fond of making decisions, playing by the rules and speaking candidly

I take what my mother taught me and add a heaping helping of life’s structure,
A couple scoops of my friend’s reflections of me, mixed with home grown SC Gullah

Two parts my black-man eyesight, capitalism and the books on my nightstand
A pinch of what’s on television, random conversations, a dash of air, sea and land

When I mix that all together, somehow I come up with a whole lotta common sense
The life force behind knowledge, introspection and world views, not innocence

Those days are gone, like many childish things, I was forced to toss them asunder
With what I’ve got going now, I cannot afford to make mindless blunders

So I preach. And I preach. I preach all day to me and part of the day to you
I preach to the angels and the devils. I preach until my face is grayish blue

In the end, we all want to win a place in the good graces of the greater unknown
Memories last in minds, but stories last in societies. I want my story strewn

So I preach. And I preach. I preach all day about the things that I believe
The words I profess to you one day might turn into later blessings I receive

And when it is asked of me, who I am, I’ll always reply just the same
They call me Preacha-man and making us all a better people is my sole aim

Memories, don't live like people do - A

As an incoming freshman at Duke University, I can remember having my ego boosted when upon meeting Maya Angelou after her opening address, I walked up to her and she remarked that I was a, "very handsome, dark, young man." And then she smiled at me.

For some reason, that compliment resonates with me stronger than if, at the time, a girl my age would have called me handsome. I’m trying to ascertain why that was? Maybe I akin it to when a woman says a compliment from another woman means more to her than a compliment from a man because the compliment seems that much more genuine and you suspect the man is only saying it to get something out of it. Well, not to say that a compliment from a woman meant she wanted something out of me, but you get my drift.

I remember standing in line to get my opportunity to shake her hand and thank her for such a wonderful welcoming to my education. Surely my statement was going to be no different than what everyone else said before me, but her regards to those in line ahead of me were very short and to the point. “Thank you and good luck here at Duke."

I was completely fascinated by the fact that she made it a point to caress my hand while she shook it and compliment me. Though at the age of 18, I had already become very comfortable with my complexion, a surge of reassurance sizzled through my body as she uttered those words to me. It was as if she wanted to let me know that she was in full support of my endeavors there. . .just not in so many words. But sometimes, when black people are talking to other black people, we just don't need "so many words" to comprehend. I didn't need "so many words."

For once I felt like the village was taking part in raising the child. That moment gave me more confidence and more of a feeling that I belonged at Duke than any other throughout the course of those first few days in Durham. In my short lifetime, it was my first encounter with a world renowned celebrity. It was the first time that celebrity’s focus was on me. It was the first time a celebrity's particular comment had been addressed to me.

I’m not sitting here trying to toot my own horn, but I am trying to add dramatics to what is one of my greatest memories of all time. Maya Angelou, author of National Book Award winning, “I Know why the Cage Bird Sings,” recognized orator and professor at Wake Forest University and around the world, called me a “very handsome, dark, young man". . .then smiled at me.

What a day.

India Impressions I

In all things new, there is shock. Once familiarity begins to breed, shock begins to die. Then there is resolution. Where you are is where you are, at least for the moment. From resolution should sprout courage. From courage, shoots pecking order and leadership. This ought to be the natural endeavoring of all men. All men interested in contributing to the human ethos, nay, the ethereal existence of being.

It is easy to become a creature of habit. The hard part is to avoid becoming a creature of complacency. To recognize the itinerant being of the mind and cater to its every wonton desire should be your goal. For no mind wishes to be confined any more than the skull will allow it. Our jobs are to drive our various sensory perceptions to greater understanding, past the garden of shock, through the front door of security. Understanding can only come when you explore the unknown or perhaps the unbeknownst.

It is with this that my reasons here in India have become what they are after two weeks. My familiarity has begun to breed. With at least 3 locations, I am now very familiar. My hotel. My office. A small mall area in Vasant Vihar. The shock is now gone from my side. Still seems to be very prevalent on the side of the natives, though. I am the recipient of many stares wherever I go. I am hesitant to say its my hue; there are many Indians here that are my complexion and a couple that I have seen that are darker. But of course there are things about my size that draw attraction. On average, I am about 8 inches taller. On average, I am about 140lbs. heavier.

For reference to those in the U.S., I am the parachuter into a stadium. I am the Tibetan Monk on the corner of 5th avenue and 34th street. I am the moon, eclipsing the daylight sun. I am one of many things that could get you to stop your conversation so that you can concentrate all of your energy on believing what you are seeing. And I wish all that I have said was a gross over-exaggeration. Alas, it is not. I have learned how to cope. I am coping.

From my very first taxi ride from the airport to my hotel, I passed no less than 10 cows on the road. My taxi driver drove like a bat out of hell, including driving against traffic on the wrong side of the road. I will go into more details in a later post. I have seen an elephant in traffic. A camel. Goats. And even those baby horses. Not pony’s, they just look like horses, but they’re miniature. I have seen monkeys on the side of the road and on fire escapes. I have resolved that I am no longer in Kansas, so to speak.

I have courageously started to go out on my own. This weekend, I took a trip to a mall that was in another part of town. The shops were terrible, but I was able to purchase a few necessities and that, in and of itself, felt liberating. I looked up a restaurant and went there to have lunch. That, too, felt good. Once I get a car, I look forward to further exploration of my new surroundings.

Everything in India is negotiable. You learn quickly that the business of sales and markets are heavily driven by what someone feels they can get out of you. Being an expatriate, I have already been tried on a few occasions. You win some, you lose some. My only saving grace is that I do know business. An example. I was leaving a restaurant and asked for a taxi. I’ve gotten into the habit of asking locals how much something should cost. I asked this of the wait staff. How much should it cost to get from here to my hotel? 75 Rupees. Okay fine. That’s roughly US$1.67. I get in the cab. This was the conversation:

Driver:
It will cost 125 R.S

Me:
But I was told it costs 75 R.S.

Driver:
Night Time Charge!! 25% more!!

Me:
That’s not what the waiter told me, I’m only paying 75. If it was more, you should have told him to tell me that.

Driver:
After 11pm, 25% more!

Me:
(Look at watch) It’s 10:55pm

Driver:
Well it’s almost 11pm (mind you, we’re about 2 minutes from the hotel at this point, so I would arrive there before the clock strikes 11.)

Me:
First things first, even if it was a 25% charge, that would not make it 125 R.S. The fact that your math is wrong lets me know that you’re lying (As if he gives a rat's ass about my english conveyed logic. We arrive). Let me know now if you have change for this 100 R.S. If you don’t, I’ll go get it from inside the hotel and give you 75 R.S. exactly.

Driver:
(Goes in pocket and pulls out two 10 R.S.) I only have 20.

Me:
Fine (make exchange and get out)


Funny thing is there’s not supposed to be any hard feelings. That’s just the nature of doing business here. You outsmart the not so smart. I can see how it works on someone who is only here for a few days, but after awhile, it just doesn’t work anymore. And if you threaten to walk away, you should see how much the price will come down. In the pecking order, the money spender has an advantage over the seller. With poverty being what it is here, you never know when you’ll get your next sell. So in the end, the seller takes what he can get. And in the end, you become the leader of your own desires, not a follower of the desires of others.

Well, these are a set of my first observations here. More to follow including pictures.

Deception

Deception. It is a very cruel tool manifested by human beings. For lizards in the desert or insects in the forest, it is a very necessary tool for survival. For human beings, there is no necessity other than to parlay social intent into the negative.

Next to Love, it takes away the most important and base component of human relations; that is trust. Since I do believe you can love everyone, trust becomes that much more important. I have found that without it, I struggle to carry-on a relationship. . .even if I still love that person.

Deception challenges the very fervor for which each man should endeavor: That is to find yourself and love yourself. If you deceive, you have neither found yourself, nor do you love yourself. I am now more committed to that belief than ever before. To deny another man the right to feel secure in the belief that he can openly and honestly project a piece of himself without being tricked or conned into sub-reality is not only downright disrespectful, but it is also ignoble.

And so while the feeling of being deceived may sting a bit, I feel more sorry for the person whom like a lizard or an insect, feels the need to use deception to get through their modal lives. . .as a tool for survival. Whilst Love and Trust can leave you vulnerable to hurt and pain, at least it also leaves you free of guilt and offers you the opportunity to once again (at some later point) realize what it means to be human.

And that’s all we are.

Please forgive me. Just something really negative I had to get off my chest right quick. I promise it won’t happen too often.

Beautiful Day

I woke up to emails from my friends checking on me to see how I am doing. Additionally, I had received a word of good news for a good friend who surely deserves it. Though my commute to work had traffic, it is expected now and thus it is right. Along the way, I was able to read a few pages of a really good book.

The guard recognized me today and I didn’t have to show him an identification card. His smile said, “I know you’re permanent now.” The persons who sit left and right of me, both wished me a good morning without any prompting.

The trees all lined up anxiously to give me their freshest batch of oxygen. A butterfly swooped by my face quickly to remind me that God is present in all things. I looked up and the hazy glass that normally covers the sky was not there. The sun shone at an angle and my reflection on the ground made me appear slimmer for the day.

In my heart, I felt someone appreciate me in their minds. The profound became the sanguine. The sanguine became the announced. The announced became me.

September 19, 2006. I dub the ‘Beautiful Day!’

I can't stop listening to this CD

I’m not quite sure how a couple weeks after its release I could have a new favorite CD, but I do. When I say a new favorite CD, I mean a new top 5 favorite CD. My life is a soundtrack, so it’s not often that I come across a piece of music that inspires me so.

That CD is Idlewild by OutKast. I have never heard such a collaboration of creativity in music from my generation as this album presents. Idlewild completely blurs the line between what the entertainment industry foolishly categorizes as Hip Hop/Rap and what I would deem musical communication.

I’m not trying to establish my own genre of music here, but for years, we have witnessed musicians limit their creative expression by succumbing to the pressures of advertising their products under what seems right or is deemed as an appropriate classification. It is one thing to give the public suggestions for music of similar interest to the listener, but in the same light, by forcing a musician to classify their music using a “pick one” style, is pigeon-holing musicians who strive for creative indifference as they dip and dabble into other musical arenas. Additionally, it ostracizes a musician’s freedom and creative spirit.

Jazz, Blues, Rock, Rap, Hip Hop, R&B, alternative, classical, inspirational, pop, vocal. It’s all here in this one album; and not necessarily in that order. I applaud the effort put forth here. What you have here is a masterpiece that will challenge you to be emotional (Listen to “The Train,” by Big Boi or “Mutron Angel,” by Andre feat. Whild Peach) and bob ya head a la "BOB" from Stankonia.

If you’re looking to hear two well polished musicians put together an album that could very well stand as a culmination of all of their musical endeavoring over their 12+ year career, please pick up Idlewild; its not your typical Soundtrack CD.

Thank you, OutKast!

And Then I Said Goodbye. . .

They say still waters run deep. And deep down at the bottom lies a layer of mud and soot so thick it can hold on to your footprint for days and days. I know those waters very well. They don’t flow. They don’t move. They ripple from time to time when annoyed, but they don’t move.

I sat on the edge of the pond and stuck my feet into that water. Spreading my toes to ensure that the coolness of the pond’s inhabitants coursed pass my skin as I sank my foot deep down to the bottom where the stiller waters lie. I had been there before. I had been there many times. I found comfort and solace there. And nothing about these waters disturbed me despite the fact I couldn’t see down pass the surface. Whatever it was that could be living there, I knew couldn’t be too bad, because I had been there before and I was still alive and well.

I took a deep breath with my eyes and soaked it all in. The pond that had been my solitude, though I had known no other of greater size, had appeared small to me. It was comfortable, but it was small. It was still. And it just fit me, like a lazy boy suit on a Sunday afternoon. I sat there still, breathing and listened to my heart. The rhythm told me it was time to move on. The still waters would always be there, but the greater unknown would not. Now was my time to learn what the greater unknown was.

It saddened me, but of course I knew what I had to do. I bent over and kissed the water’s surface with my finger tips. It was time to leave here and find comfort in what I didn’t know. I pressed hard on the pond’s bottom one last time to ensure a healthy footprint that would last for longer than days and days. And then I slowly unearthed my toes and un-drowned my legs. I stood by the pond’s side and looked down at my blurred reflection.

It was at that moment that I knew, she would miss me as much as I would miss her. I thought I saw a tear come to her eye. The pond cried for me and wished me well. I waved at the blurred reflection of myself.

And then I said goodbye. . .