They can no longer ignore theSound, so they send their stooges to look for its source. Agents search hillside slums filled with hopelessness, aggression, and bitterness. They come to eat black boys and classify all others collateral. They painstakingly search for a clue, but cannot find the DragonPart. The searchers hear theSound, but find no meaning in it. They don’t appreciate the whispers and screeches that make up the music. They are deaf to the harmony of the people’s striving, the tempo of the Dragon dance and the sweet sound of our song. For them theSound is noise, Dragonspeak is gibberish and . . .
We must take Africa back. We must have an African attitude. We come from Africa. Africa is the richest land in the world full of diamonds and gold and oil and apples and oranges and everything. The people are the most intelligent people in history. We built pyramids. We gave the world mathematics, science and so many deities and gods and what have you. We were an educational voice to the whole world, but we were invaded. We were invaded by the Arabs and we were invaded by the Europeans. They came to Africa and took our diamonds, our gold . . .
My body has been back in the United States of Amerikkka for three days, but it’s a shell housing a consciousness forever stuck there and then with them. Perhaps it’s a “blackened” consciousness, forever outside of time and place, which would explain why it feels like I’m out of time; matters are urgent. After being in Cuba, time, itself, passes differently—somehow slower yet faster, a cautious drag and then a rushed pull like a tug of war. Time now skips past me with its tongue stuck out and hands wagging at its ears like a teasing bully. I trace its . . .
The drum sounds philosophical beats that engage us all and compel us to strive for a better life. These are mystic licks calling for unity, in a global march for dignity, liberty and peace. Booming beats beckon us to free our minds and take a road, full of obstacles, ambushes and dead ends. The drum calls us to a sojourn of conscience, one that can only be successfully traversed by those aligned to the people and their collective interests. The drum calls us to journey to redemption. A journey that must, of necessity, reshape our soul and resurrect our twisted minds. . . .