Blowing our Cover…
Perhaps you’ve noticed, I often have flights of fancy & random tangents in my posts. Not to say every word isn’t the god’s honest truth, but as an African-Canadian, perhaps it’s as simple as my having a different point of view than you. Did you ever think of that you self-centered, egotistical elitist member of the establishment.
I’m sorry that was uncalled for, it’s just… this time of year always makes me emotional and my head swims with memories. There is something special about getting the family together, the anticipation, yes of course it’s always nice to have gatherings – but it all seems more…. I don’t know profound or something. The holiday season just has more gravity, the food tastes better, the laughs heartier, the hugs tighter…
Allow me to explain our Kwanzaa celebrations to you… observed from December 26 to January 1. It features activities such as the lighting of a Kinara, and culminates in a feast and gift giving. So you see it’s not much different from your heretical false idolatry worship. A morbidly obese, sleep deprived, jet lagged, loner from the frozen tundra of the north pole sneaking into your home, whilst everyone is asleep – truly unsettling…
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Maulana Karenga created Kwanzaa in 1966 as the first specifically African-American holiday. Karenga said his goal was to “give Blacks an alternative to the existing holiday and give Blacks an opportunity to celebrate themselves and history, rather than simply imitate the practice of the dominant society. During the early years of Kwanzaa, Karenga said that it was meant to be an alternative to Christmas, that Jesus was psychotic, and that Christianity was a white religion that black people should shun.
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Excited members of my sub-division sitting in a traditional foot-circle, Kwanzaa morning 1973
Ok, I’ll admit that was a bit of a mis-step on his part, but the 60’s were a time of outspoken activism. Being black was fraught with danger during the turbulence of that era and it was only later, much later, when I was older that I was able to fully understand why my parents had been members of the Black Panthers. And listen here, we weren’t Tiger Woods black we were James Earl Jones black, so we had it more difficult than most. I resigned myself to growing up and finding work in the sugar canes fields, like my ancestors had for generations before me.
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It was then that fate stepped in and while picking up the roast of giraffe for the feast, I happened to run into a recruiter for the United Negro College Fund, we got to talking and long story short – he offered me a full academic scholarship. It was so much more than being the first member of my family to attend school past kindergarten, it was a way out… to be able to attend college was in itself a victory, but as a young black man, being offered that opportunity was beyond imagine….
I also remember quite vividly….. I ….. I remember… Oh God… I REMEMBER – Ok scratch that, I’m wrong, so… so very wrong…. as far as you’re concerned this post never happened. I’ve just been informed that in fact we have been living under the witness protection program for all these years and the whole black thing was part of our elaborate cover. I was never here….. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and any misunderstanding.
Merry Christmas & Have a Great Day