BLOGS

I originally wrote this article for the History section of the Rome: Total War Heaven website; the version posted on the website may be viewed here. However, below I've made some changes to the original article to include more references.

Ancient Egypt's African Roots

This view is wrong. The ancient Egyptians were not Europeans or Asians. They were in fact largely indigenous Africans, both biologically and culturally. That is not to say that there was no cultural or genetic influence from Europe or Asia, but any such influence was not enough to dilute a fundamentally African identity.

Physical Anthropology

Before the ancient Egyptians' biological relationships to other African peoples can be discussed, a common misconception about Africans must be refuted. This misconception is that indigenous Africans universally have a specific set of facial features commonly called "Negroid", such as wide, flat noses and full lips. While many African populations do have those features, there are also many who do not. Physical anthropologist Jean Hiernaux (1975) writes:

In sub-Saharan Africa, many anthropological characters show a wide range of population means or frequencies. In some of them, the whole world range is covered in the sub-continent. Here live the shortest and the tallest human populations, the one with the highest and the one with the lowest nose, the one with the thickest and the one with the thinnest lips in the world. In this area, the range of the average nose widths covers 92 per cent of the world range: only a narrow range of extremely low means are absent from the African record. (53-4)

Thinner noses and lips, so-called "Caucasoid" features, are especially common in northeast African regions not far from Egypt, such as Ethiopia, Somalia, Eritrea, and northern Sudan. Why this is the case is not known, although some anthropologists have speculated that there is a correlation between nose width and humidity, with narrower noses being more adaptive to drier climates. Whatever the cause, the point is that native African features are not restricted to the "Negroid" stereotype.

If we keep that in mind, how do we know whether the ancient Egyptians were more closely related to other Africans than to Europeans or Asians?

One method used by physical anthropologists to determine how closely related populations are is by measuring and comparing the shapes of their skulls, since skull shape varies from region to region. Populations with more similar skull shapes are regarded as being more closely related. When their skulls are subjected to this kind of analysis, ancient Egyptians appear to be especially closely related to northern Sudanese (Godde 2009) and are overall more closely related to northeast Africans than to Europeans, Asians, or Berbers (Kemp 2005). Similarities with "Negroid" sub-Saharan populations are particularly strong in skulls from southern (Upper) Egypt (Keita 1990, 2005). Those opposed to an African origin for the Egyptians often cite Brace (1993), which claimed to have found Egyptians to be closer to Europeans than Africans, but Howells (1995:95) criticizes this study's measurements as over-emphasizing the shape of the nose instead of evaluating the entire skull.

However, it must be noted that studies have also found some evidence for change in Egyptian skull shapes over time, possibly as a result of mixing with non-Egyptian immigrants. Berry and Berry (1967) report that Egyptian skulls show little change between the beginning of Egyptian civilization (3100 BC) and the Middle Kingdom (2080-1640 BC), but do change significantly during the New Kingdom (1550-1069 BC). This may reflect increased admixture with foreign immigrants, for example the Southwest Asian Hyksos. Zakrzewski (2004) also reports that a set of skulls from very late in Egyptian history is significantly different from earlier Egyptian skulls.

Another line of evidence showing a relationship between ancient Egyptians and populations from tropical Africa concerns the skeleton beyond the skull, specifically the proportions of the limbs. Tropical African populations have proportionately longer limbs than European or Asian populations, because longer limbs dissipate heat more easily. Measurements of ancient Egyptian skeletons has shown that their limb proportions were within the range of tropical African populations (Zakrzewski 2003), and sometimes their limbs were proportionately longer than those of some tropical Africans, leading Robins and Shute (1986) to call them "super-Negroid".

This is especially significant because even though we think of Egypt as a hot place, it is not truly tropical (it cools off during nighttime and winter). Populations living in subtropical desert climates similar to those of Egypt, such as the San of southwestern Africa, normally have limb proportions intermediate to those of Europeans and tropical populations (Trinkaus 1981). If the ancient Egyptians' limb proportions were like those of tropical Africans rather than subtropical peoples like the San, that implies that their ancestors must been relatively recent migrants to subtropical Egypt from a truly tropical area, such as tropical sub-Saharan Africa.

Yet another line of evidence concerns hair texture. You might think that casually glancing at Egyptian mummies' hair might answer the question of what their hair texture was originally like, but this is wrong. As shown by Brothwell and Spearman (1963) and Bertrand et al. (2003), Egyptian mummies' hair appears to have been damaged by the mummification process. Damage to the hair can cause discoloration and texture changes.

Fortunately, there is a more reliable way of discerning hair's original texture. First, using a special instrument called a trichometer, measure the cross-section of the hair, then divide the value for the minimum diameter of the hair by the maximum and multiply the product by a hundred, producing an index. Hair that was originally curly or kinky will produce an index between 55 and 70, while straighter hair will produce an index over 70.

According to Conti-Fuhrman and Massa (1972) and Massa and Massali (1980), hairs recovered from ancient Egyptian mummies have an average index of 60.02, falling within the kinky to curly range. In other words, ancient Egyptians' natural hair was curly to kinky like those of Africans. However, it must be noted that Egyptians usually shaved their heads to rid themselves of lice and wore wigs most of the time, so most Egyptian artwork does not depict Egyptians with their natural hair.

Finally, there comes the question of exactly what skin color the ancient Egyptians were. It is tempting to look at Egyptian paintings, but it must be remembered that Egyptian paintings were symbolic rather than realistic in nature. Individuals may be depicted as red, yellow, gold, green, white, or black depending on the context. Between the Old and Middle Kingdoms, it was common to depict Egyptian men as brown-skinned and women as yellow-skinned, but for some unknown reason, by the time of the New Kingdom, both sexes were portrayed as brown-skinned.

A better method of determining Egyptian skin tone would be analyzing the melanin content of samples of skin tissue taken from their mummies (melanin is the pigment which determines skin tone in humans). Mekota and Vermehren (2005), after studying Egyptian mummy skin cells, concluded that they "were packed with melanin as expected for specimens of Negroid origin"---in other words, Egyptians had a level of melanin and thus skin tone within the range of tropical Africans. We can therefore safely conclude that the ancient Egyptians were what we would call "black".

Not only were the ancient Egyptians biologically related to other Africans, but archaeology and cultural anthropology have shown that their culture had indigenous African roots as well.

Archaeology and Cultural Anthropology

The ancient Egyptian language is not the only thing that came to Egypt from the south. Some aspects of the Egyptian institution of pharaoh also show ties to more southerly Africans. Aldred (1978) says that the Egyptian pharaoh, who was believed to control the flooding of the Nile, may have been descended from a "rainmaker king" similar to the kind prevalent throughout black Africa. The Egyptian practice of sacrificing servants to accompany a dead pharaoh into the afterlife also appears to be of Sudanic origin (Ehert 1996). Even the iconography associated with the pharaoh may have originated in the south, for the oldest evidence of this iconography is found on an incense burner found in Nubia (Williams 1986).

In addition to language and political institutions, other aspects of Egyptian culture show ties to sub-Saharan Africa. Eglash (1995) shows that fractal designs, which are widely used by African cultures, are present in Egyptian architecture and cosmological signs. The Egyptian counting system also has sub-Saharan roots (Eglash 1999). According to the Encyclopedia Britannica (1984), many aspects of Egyptian religion (animal cults, ritual dressings, and the role of the king as head ritualist or medicine man) are closer to northeast African religions that European or Asian ones. Frankfort (1956:39-40) shows that much of the ancient Egyptian worldview has parallels in sub-Saharan cultures. Djehuti (2005a) lists many beliefs and cultural practices (for instance, circumcision rites, divine kingship, ancestor veneration, and totemism) common to both ancient Egypt and sub-Saharan Africa. The same author (2005b) also shows that personal names in both ancient Egypt and sub-Saharan Africa had great spiritual significance. Finally, de Heinzelin (1962) and Arkell and Ucko (1965) report tools of central African design being made by early Egyptians.

Some traits of ancient Egyptian culture also came from the Sahara west of Egypt. This area, now desert, was a grassy savanna until 5,500 years ago, allowing people and animals to live there. The oldest evidence of mummification comes from the Sahara (Donadoni 1964). The oldest evidence of a complex society in Egypt is also found out in the desert. This is the Nabta Playa culture, dating between the 10th and 7th millennia BC, which was characterized by huts built in straight rows, wells, a circle of megaliths similar to England's Stonehenge, and stone-roofed chambers containing cattle bones. These cattle bones most likely represent sacrifices offered to the gods (Wendorf and Schild 1998), a practice that was continued by later Egyptians.

After the Sahara dried up, the proto-Egyptians migrated into the Nile Valley, adopted farming, and developed two early civilizations, one in northern (Lower) Egypt and one in southern (Upper) Egypt. Of these two, it was the Upper Egyptians whose culture evolved into what we think of as classical Egyptian civilization. It is in Upper Egypt that we find evidence of social and economic differentiation among people, a differentiation that would evolve into the class system of later Egypt. Ultimately the Upper Egyptian culture would dominate Lower Egypt and conquer it by 3100 BC, making Egypt into a unified country and beginning the Old Kingdom (Bard 1994).

This genesis of Egyptian culture in the south and west is inconsistent with any argument that would classify Egypt as a "Near Eastern" or "Mediterranean" civilization. If Egyptians were indeed of Asian or European origin, we would expect the north to dominate and conquer the south, but the reverse is the case. This shows that the ancient Egyptian culture was essentially an indigenous African one.

Why is Egypt's African Identity Not Realized?

I can think of two possible reasons. One is that, due to the cultural and genetic influence of various Southwest Asian and European conquerors on Egypt, beginning with the Hyksos in the Second Intermediate Period, Egypt is viewed as part of the "Middle East" rather than being truly African. It is certainly true that the modern country calls itself the "Arab Republic of Egypt". Perhaps people think that since Egyptians nowadays identify with Arabs rather than other Africans, the ancient Egyptians must have been "Arabs" as well.

The other likely reason is that it is a legacy of racism against Africans. In the 18th and 19th centuries, when Egyptology first emerged as a discipline in the West, Westerners felt that Africans were incapable of creating civilization on their own. For example, the Australian anatomist G. Eliot Smith, quoted in Kamugisha (2003), claimed that "the smallest infusion of Negro blood immediately manifests itself in a dulling of initiative and a 'drag' on the further development of the arts of civilization". The idea that Africans could build a civilization as powerful and influential as Egypt's would have been unimaginable to most Westerners of the time.

Not that the possibility of an African ancient Egypt had never occurred to any Western intellectuals. Some, like the 18th century orientalist Count Constantin de Volney, actually accepted it, asserting that the Egyptians were "real Negroes, of the same species with all the natives of Africa". Others denied it. The 19th century Egyptologist Gaston Maspero claimed that the Egyptians, far from having the "general appearance of the Negro, really resembled the fine white races of Europe and Western Asia" (Poe 1997).

Ultimately, modern science, stripped of the prejudices of the past, would vindicate de Volney. However, most laypeople are not aware of this evidence, so they still incorrectly perceive Egypt as "Near Eastern" or "Mediterranean" rather than truly African.

Why Does This Matter?

Some people may wonder why the skin color or ethnicity of the ancient Egyptians matter. Who cares if they were black, white, or magenta?

This debate matters because ancient Egypt has been inaccurately depicted for so long. Portraying the ancient Egyptians as non-African is like portraying the Romans as being non-European or portraying the Maya as being non-Native American. It is perpetuating myths. If Egypt is to be accurately portrayed, its African identity must be accepted.

In conclusion, ancient Egypt was a fundamentally African culture founded by African people, not an import from Europe or Asia. If we are to move forward from our racist past, acknowledging this is a good step to take.

Bibliography

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Recently, I was talking to Wanuri Kahiu, director of the Kenyan science fiction short film Pumzi (she's also set to direct Who Fears Death: The Movie). I asked her how she came to science fiction . She said that she didn't grow up reading or watching science fiction, that it was organic. "The story led me to science fiction," she said.

I had a similar experience. As a kid, I read everything, including some science fiction but not much (I didn't see a hint of myself in science fiction novels back then- no girls, no blacks. I didn't purposely shy away from sf, I simply was never drawn to it and I didn't have anyone to turn me on to it). Yes, I grew up consuming Isaac Asimov books like crazy...but not his science fiction novels, his science books (though I did read I, Robot...I enjoyed reading about the robots). As the story of Pumzi led Wanuri to science fiction, the stories of Zahrah the Windseeker, The Shadow Speaker and Who Fears Death led me to it.

My short story "Spider the Artist" was pivotal for me. It was my first time consciously writing "pure" science fiction. One day, editor John Joseph Adams had come to me and asked me to write a story for his anthology Seeds of Change. He said, no fantasy, just science fiction.The idea was a bit foreign for me because my world on and off the page is full of magic and fantasy. However, I always like a good challenge so I took him up on it. "Spider the Artist" was the result.

After writing it back in 2008, I was sure of two things: 1. That I was on the right path with Who Fears Death (I was editing it around the time I wrote "Spider the Artist" and I remember going back to it and turning the volume up on some things). 2. That I would write more science fiction. I liked the taste very much. I thank John Joseph Adams for gently nudging me to the table. I think he changed the direction of my work.

A burst pipeline in Nigeria

Here's a brief description: "In “Spider the Artist,” Nnedi Okorafor takes us to Nigeria of the future, where Big Oil protects the pipelines with spider-like AIs known as zombies, and tells the tale of a woman who faces down one of the murderous machines armed only with a guitar."

I must admit that I'm not exactly the kind of person you would expect to join the Black Science Fiction Society, largely because, as you can deduce from my photo, I'm not black. However, I am interested in African cultures and history, particularly that of Egypt (yes, I do consider ancient Egypt to be African), and I support the black struggle against racism in America, so I think I still have a good reason to hang out here.

Although my dream career is biological anthropology, I do enjoy writing and drawing as hobbies. In fact, I've recently completed a 6,866-word short story set in prehistoric Egypt circa 4000 BC. I plan to write more stories with Egyptian or other African themes in the future, and when I have enough I'll probably combine them into a book collection similar to those containing Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian stories.

PROLOGUE

            In the middle of the colorful forest by the river bank through a cloud of white mist, was the birth of a young boy.  There were only three to bear witness to such the occasion, and only one to take him home.

            “He has such a spirit this one,” said the copper complexioned woman holding the baby in her naked arms, her long dark hair disheveled for once. 

            “Yes.  Just like his Papa,” beamed the lean burly man dressed in a hemp loin cloth; who after touching both the woman’s and the baby’s face, quickly jumped to his feet to do a little jig.

            “His birth has been a long time coming,” said another woman as she smiled down at the happy family.  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep him with you?” she asked.

            “If only we could.  He will be safer with you.  He’ll be a happy boy, he has such spirit.” The first woman smiled.

            She slowly got up and placed her son in a wicker basket.  Within the folds of the blanket, she placed her favorite pearl handled hair brush and a lock of her black silky hair.  The man placed a twig from his favorite branch and a leather pouch with a long string.  Within the pouch, his and his son’s secret alone it was to share.

            The father and mother signed a note on a piece of paper made of leather saying:

            Dear Son,

                        Happy was the joyous day of your birth.  We will forever keep it with us.  Though we may not have you physically now, we have you always.  Love is you.  Take us with you wherever you go, in your heart and in your thoughts as we do you also.  Someday soon we will be reunited and when the time comes our son, you will solidify your place beside us.  Words cannot express the sorrow of letting you go, but you are in great, trusted, capable hands.  Love her as we love her.

                        See you soon our baby.

                                                Love, Momma & Papa

            They folded up the note, the mother kissed it, and they placed it in his basket also.  They kissed him on the forehead one at a time, blessed him, and bid him adieu.

            “Ma’Zelle, take care of our boy.  No one must know who he is or where he comes from,” said the mother.

            “His safety and well being is in your hands,” said the father.

            “I promise to raise him as my own and protect him as my own.  He will not want for anything but the two of you, and one day soon I’ll make that come true for him too,” said Ma’Zelle.

            “We know that you will,” they said in monotone unison.

            The three adults embraced as they said farewell.  Ma’Zelle bent over and picked up the basket with the baby, then waved a final goodbye to his parents.  She walked slowly out of the enchanted forest.  Who’s to say when she would be able to enjoy this place again; this land she called home.

            “Sweet Caroni,” she sighed.

            She made her way out of the forest and back to her home and she noticed her lights were on.  As she got closer to the lovely cottage surrounded by trees, bushes and bright colorful flowers; she could hear the voices of men and women chattering.  She smiled to herself.

            Opening her front door, she walked through the living room straight back to her living quarters and deposited the basket.  She cast a sleeper spell over the baby and covered him up with one of her widely knitted throws.  She walked back out of her room, gently closing the door behind her.

            She jumped as she turned around to walk to the kitchen flinging a foreign object across the room that was no object.

            “Ow Ma’Zelle.  Damn.  Did you have to do that?” said the short stout gentleman dressed in a black dashiki ornately embroidered in deep purple threading.

            “I’m sorry Imbar.  Don’t sneak behind me in my house then.”

            “Yes well, I saw you as you came in going straight back to your room with a peculiar package.  What’s in the basket?”  He asked as he got up and made his way back over to her, peeping over her shoulder at her bedroom door.

            “Nothing of your concern,” she said, turning him around and leading him to the kitchen.  “just a going away present for myself.”

            Before her room completely disappeared out of her sight, she cast a barrier spell on the door so no one, especially Imbar, could open it.  Eleven of her most talented trusted and good hearted witches and warlocks were gathered around her kitchen table; Radiis, Imbar, Newlie, Gadar, Tangora, Cyrus, Ketara, Relbyna, Brenton, Hargro, Primus, and Ma’Zelle made Twelve.

            In the center of her kitchen table laid a map of the earth.  There were twelve large, colorful dots on it that each one was assigned to.  They pulled their assignments anonymously so no one else knew where the other was going.  On each assignment were directions to a power source for their new home.  They all were assigned to make a new realm; a new world of sorts to where they guide and assist other beings gifted as themselves, as well as in other ways.

            At the table there was only one that new the exact location of all the power sources.  Her job was to give the map to the leader of the colony in Caroni, only the map.  Her memories of where the power sources were as well as everyone’s knowledge of what they’d seen on the map was to be erased that eve.  Newlie passed out twelve small cups with a smoking concoction, very thick, very sweet and silver.  It was to erase the memories they all shared of the twelve realms.  All they had after that was a parchment of paper with written direction addressed to them alone, not to be shared with anyone of where they were going, where they were leaving, and what they were going to do.

            Prior to drinking the concoction, Ma’Zelle had in hand a memory stone.  She passed her memories to the stone and left it in her pocket.  There was someone else who was being sneaky at the table.  They did not use a memory stone, but prior to drinking as well, they slipped a bark wrapped in a little purple leaf into their mouth with a small cough.  The bark with the leaf was used to weaken the strength of the memory brew and to bring the memories back over time.  Why was it done?  They don’t even know, but they felt it might be information they could use later on.

            “Everyone, we have one bit of business to do before we leave Caroni.  It will take all of us and we must all be ready to leave tonight.”

            “Another mystery, ay Ma?” asked Cyrus.

            “Yes, another mystery,” chuckled Ma’Zelle, “and we have to leave tonight for good.”

            “It’s so soon,” sighed Cyrus.

            “I know I’m not ready to go yet,” said Gadar.

            “ Yes, but we must go.  So it has been told.” Said Brenton

            “I think it’s exciting! “ Beamed Tangora

            “Me too; our own new world.” mooned Imbar.

            “That’s all well and good, but no more Caroni.  Are you willing to give that up?” asked Ketara

            “My realm will be just like Caroni.  I will always have it with me.”

            "You shouldn’t get so attached to things in this always changing world,” replied Imbar

            “We should go now and get our affairs in order,” said Radiis rising from the table.

            “Before you go everyone,” Ma’Zelle said, also rising, “meet me at the river’s edge in the enchanted forest when the moon is highest in the sky.”

            More chairs slid back from the table as more people rose.

            “We don’t have much time, so we best be on our way,” said Ketara.

            “Soon and very soon,” said Primus to Ma’Zelle as he clasped her on the shoulder before walking down the corridor to the front door.

            “We didn’t even get to eat,” whined Imbar

            They all shared a laugh as they continued to exit, making way to their own destinations.  Ma’Zelle too had someplace to go.  Her destination was James, the leader of Caroni.  She rolled up the map and placed a seal on it so that it will only be opened when necessary.  Wanting to pack up so many things in her house, she decided to take the whole thing.  After feeding the baby, she cast him under another spell to keep him content and still during their journeys.  She also took the memory stone out of her pocket.  While forgetting its significance she put the stone in the baby’s pouch his father had placed in his basket.

            Stepping out to the front of her house, she placed her hands in the air as a music conductor would.  She directed the space in front of her shrinking her home and its contents to a miniature version of itself.  She walked over to the shrunken house and picked it up placing it in an ornately carved silver box that was then placed in her bag next to the map.

            James met Ma’Zelle at the entrance to the cave behind the waterfall called ‘God’s Mouth.

            “I got your message and came alone.”

            “You swear you have told no one, not even your brother,” Ma’Zelle inquired looking around.

            “You swear?  What is the meaning of this really?”

            “It is time for us to go.  We have things to do in different locations, but before we go, I have to give you something.”

            “What is it?”

            “Here but don’t open it until the day come that you need it;” she said taking the map out of her bag and handing it to him.

            “How will I know? When it’s time I mean?”

            “It has been said there will come a time when the places where we are going will need this map during a time of civil unrest.  It is coming James.  I need you to be prepared, but don’t tell anyone, especially about this map.  You need to guard it with your life.”

            “I trust your words and I hear you, though I do not understand.  I will guard this map and be as prepared as I can, but I will need to tell people of my preparations so they will know why they do what they do.”

            “If you wish, but keep your circle small. The less to know the better.  No one must be told of the map James, remember that.  I must go.  I hope to see you again one day my friend,” said Ma’Zelle reaching out a hand to cup James’ shoulder. 

             “Likewise Ma’Zelle. I can only hope for Caroni to stay peaceful as it is today.”

             “Listen for the still peace James.  The quiet.  Once all is calm enough to hear a pin drop, the flood gates are going to open and those nearest and dearest to you may be in the flood.”

             “There’s always a lot to digest when I meet with you. Safe journeys my friend.”

             “Thank you James.  Goodbye for now,” she said then vanished as she floated around the waterfall.

James just looked at the space where she was standing then back at the map.

             “For Caroni’s sake Ma’Zelle, I hope this one time you’re wrong,” he said somberly as he walked back to his home stashing the map in his ruby silken robe embroidered with gold threading and brilliant gems.

Ma’Zelle wasn’t the first to arrive at the river’s bank, nor was she the last.

             “Alright Ma’Zelle, we’re all here," said Primus as the final member of their party arrived.

             “Yes, thank you all for doing this.  There is no one else who can," said Ma'Zelle

             “Where are we going?” asked Relbyna.

             “There is a neighboring island, enchanted in secrecy a few miles out to sea.  We need to go there tonight and refortify the islands spells, making it stronger against the dark forces.  GiGi is waiting for us there.”

             There was a ripple of whispering running through the crowd.

             “GiGi?” asked Brenton.

             “I thought she was dead,” said Gadar

             “What happened to her?” asked Hargro.

             “Yes, how did she end up there?” asked Imbar.

             “She was blown over there,” Ma’Zelle chuckled

             “Damn it Ma’Zelle, be serious,” said Cyrus.

             “I am, and she was.  Do you remember a few years past there was a wild, vicious storm with great winds that was not too far from here?”

They shook their heads in agreement.

            “Well GiGi was flying back home that same night from one of her usual outings.  She thought she could handle the winds, but they handled her instead and blew her safely to the island where we are going tonight.”

           “That is funny. Amazing, but funny,” said Imbar.

          “How did you find out about it?” asked Radiis.

          “She sent me a message.  The messengers know the way.  They are one of the few that know the way.

          “How are we getting over there?  I don’t see any boats,” inquired Cyrus.

         “That’s because we’re not taking boats.”

         “Well, what are we talking?” asked Gadar.

         “Those,” said Ma’Zelle, pointing to the water’s edge at twelve large green lily pads with twelve large white lotus flowers trimmed in purple at the guiding head.

         “What about our stuff?” screeched Tangora.

         “I suggest shrinking them, or leave them behind.  The choice is yours,” said Ma’Zelle patting her single bag.

         “I don’t know if I can do all of this Ma’Zelle,” said Newlie sweeping her hand to the mountain of leather trunks behind her.

         “Wow Newlie!  Did you put the whole East Village in your luggage?” laughed Cyrus.

         “I think she took the west side too,” laughed Hargro.

         “No, I did not.  I didn’t know what to bring, so I brought a little of everything,” replied Newlie.

         “Well shrink that pile and stick it in your hand bag,” said Ma’Zelle.

         “Everyone consolidate.  These trunks and luggage pieces are not going to fit on these pads.  Levitate them above you, drag them along in the water below you, or stick them in a single bag or your pocket,” said Radiis.

         There were whirls of colorful dust fragments as witch after witch and warlock after warlock stood in front of their piles and conducted the space in front of them; shrinking the contents to doll house size pieces.

         After collecting their belongings, they each stepped on a lily pad.  With Ma’Zelle taking the point, flanked by Radiis and Ketara, everyone else fell in behind.

         “Off to Cacara,” said Ma’Zelle tapping her foot on the pad.

         “Off to Cacara,” the others repeated following her lead.

         And they floated off across the top of the water standing on their lily pads into the smoky horizon with only the moon lighting their way.

Sistah wins Settlement in "The Matrix".  Could walk away wilth over 2.5 Billion Dollars!

http://donproent.ning.com/profiles/blogs/sophia-stewart-wins-the-matrix?xg_source=facebookshare

      The midday sun burned its way through the forest canopy to see the Chief pouring with sweat, winded and barely able to stand. The Knight had to give the man credit for he never would have believed such stamina and stubbornness existed within the hairy foreigner. The Knight wanted to aid the Chief, but was bound by his wife’s warning to not help unless asked. Instead he’d given him his shield and water when asked, but nothing more. The Knight knew the Chief’s opponent all too well, but dared not give him any clue as to what he futilely fought against. This was the Chief’s ordeal alone and only he could overcome it.

       The Warrioress’ twin blonde braids swung freely as she continued to batter her death’s head shield against the borrowed hammered iron one held by the Chief. It was obvious the contest was over and the man had little if anything left to throw at her. In an almost respectful tone the Warrioress’ said, “Come now Aesir, give it up. You fought well, quite well to be exact. Well enough to be worthy of a fine song. A heroic saga even. But it’s over. Give in to me, yield. I promise you when it ends, you’ll feel all the better for it.” Stumbling backwards the Chief breathlessly replied, “First..., hike up that fur skirt of yours. I can’t let the Knight be the only man in this land to have bedded a Goddess!” The absolute arrogance of the Aesir drew forth the ire of the Warrioress. “How dare you defy me! I am inevitable! You cannot beat me! Give it up. To continue is pointless!” Smiling, the Chief replied, “Oh, so you’re ready for me now? Good. You’ll have to get on top first while I catch my breath....” With an inhuman hiss, the Warrioress brought down her broadsword in a killing arc only to be stopped in a shower of sparks and the sound of hammer on anvil against the Great War Spear!

       “YOU DARE INTERFERE?” roared the Warrioress’ her voice causing the ground to tremble. “Shhhhhh! Don’t wake the Mountain,” whispered the Priestess. The Warrioress slowly dragged her weapon away from the over long spear blade in a further shower of bright sparks. Angrily, the Warrioress suddenly sheathed her weapon and said in a flat tone, “I suppose you’re going to remind me of the ‘usual conditions’.” Still holding the spear between the Warrioress and the confused Chief the Priestess replied, “I am. He has not yielded to you has he?” The Warrioress’ blue eyes burned brightly for a moment and then she abruptly turned her back to them. “Fine! No matter, I retrieved part of my property. At least someone was ‘happy’ to see me.” Again the Warrioress abruptly turned back and looked to the Chief. In her haunting hollow voice she asked, “Aesir, do you still bear a wooden cockerel for me?” Smiling, she slowly started to raise her fur-trimmed skirt.

        With an ear to ear grin the Chief started to his feet, but was suddenly stopped by the flat side of the Great War Spear’s blade laid across his chest. In a warning tone the Priestess retorted, “Not this one Chief of the Aesir. Maybe we’ll find a nice wood or river spirit to tickle your fancy. This one’s not worth the trouble. Besides, you’ll see her again all too soon.” Disappointed the Chief replied, “How about a wood and river nymph my Priestess?” Without looking the Priestess replied, “Don’t press your luck Chief. Well now that’s all settled, you’ll be on your way right old friend?” With a knowing smile the Warrioress replied, “Yes, I wish to be spared the teary good-byes as well. Now that I have your address, I’ll have to come by more often.” In a rippling of air like a desert mirage, the Warrioress disappeared. All who watched her depart could have sworn for a moment they saw the very Death’s Head within the shimmering air as was painted upon her shield.

       The Knight went to his wife’s side and said, “You and your friends....” The Priestess gave a relieved sigh and said, “Well, not all my friends are complete pains in the ass.” Waving, the boy came running over to her and she put an arm around his shoulder. “Husband, meet my new assistant for the shrine.” The boy looked up at the fearsome Valley Knight with trepidation and the man said, “Ho, so you’ll be hanging around my house eh? Don’t get any ideas boy. I’ve still got ears from all the men who tried to steal my wife.” The boy’s eyes once more grew wide, but then the Knight winked at him. The Priestess leaned over and whispered to the boy, “They really stink up the house during the summer!”

       The Chief worn out from his ordeal said, “Did I just miss something? Who in Midgard was that crazy bitch?” The Priestess looked to the boy as he held onto the fish scale and asked, “Do you understand who that was boy?” Fearfully, the boy nodded ‘yes’. Gesturing to the Chief the Priestess said, “Well you can tell him if you want to.” The boy emphatically shook his head ‘no.’ Shrugging her shoulders the Priestess said regrettably, “Well that’s that. See you at the evening meal Chief. Please don’t bring any of that horrible Mead with you!”

       The Chief handed back the Knight’s shield and said, “Thanks for the loan friend. Hey, you know who that was don’t you?” The Knight nodded, gave the Chief a hard pat on the shoulder then joined his wife and the boy as they headed down the mountain path. The Chief threw up his hands and shouted, “Aw come on! You’re not going to just leave and not tell me who I was fighting all damn morning, are you?” Far down the path the Chief heard the Priestess’ yell, “Chief, don’t wake the Mountain!”

The End

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Mocha Memoirs Proudly announces the release of Miriam Ruff's "If Only." A story so unnerving, it will leave you double checking your internet friends.

Blog: Mocha Memoirs Press
Post: Look What Miriam just released...If Only
Link: http://mochamemoirspress.blogspot.com/2011/03/look-what-miriam-just-releasedif-only.html

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      ‘Now then, are you going to foul the water again or tell me why a creature like you is in a place where you have no business?’ The massive fish’s words vibrated through the boy’s body once more stilling his shock at being able to breathe. Floating closer to the giant glowing blue eye the boy tried to speak and to his surprise said, “I jumped in the hole to save her!” The scales of the fish changed from blue to greenish as it replied, ‘You came to this place to save someone else? I’ve never heard that one before.’ Now with a bit more courage the boy replied, “Well Sir Fish, it’s true! This bigmouth girl dared me to go up on the dam and then when I did, she dared me to jump into this hole because only the older boys were brave enough to do it! But I wouldn’t and she got mad and pushed me away, but she fell in!”

       The great Fish’s gills flapped twice at the boy’s story and its scales turned yellow. ‘So how did you get here if you would not jump?’ The boy eye’s darted away and the light from the fish’s large eye also turned yellow as its wide pupil narrowed. ‘Well?’ asked the Fish expectantly. Looking back to the eye the boy stammered, “W-well I didn’t want her to be trapped with no one to help her... so I jumped in after her.” The great eye’s pupil widened and suddenly the mouth of the fish was in front of the boy. Rows of teeth shaped like long razor-sharp crystalline swords flashed with the red light emanating from the fish’s body! The boy reflexively covered his face with his arms as he waited to be devoured. Instead, he was buffeted by what could be none other than the vibrations uproarious laughter!

       ‘HA! HA, HA, HA, HA, HA! Oh like I said, this stuff just never gets old! Perchance little one, how familiar was this ‘girl’ to you?’ Too thankful to have not been eaten the boy thought for a moment and realized, he didn’t know the girl at all! That was strange because he could have sworn he knew her.... Suddenly, the eye was right before him and it twitched back and forth as the Fish said, ‘Ah little one, alas you have been tricked. I can tell you that no one you knew directly was there. It was all a ploy to bring you here.’ Confused the boy replied, what do you mean? I saw her! I talked to her! Please tell me, where am I?”

       The Fish’s pupil narrowed a bit and orange light spilled from its body as it said, ‘No little one, whatever you thought you saw was real only to you. And this ‘place’ is no place at all. I can only describe it as  somewhere in-between where you must be in order to get from one place to another.’ Stunned, the boy exclaimed, “How am I supposed to get back? I don’t know the way!” The great eye’s pupil narrowed to a circle the size of the boy’s fist and the Fish’s scales turned a dark red as it replied, ‘I have traveled this way many times and you are only the second being I have ever encountered here. You will not get back unless you know from whence you came.’  Just as the boy was about to panic his father’s words came to him once more as he said, “Stay calm and relaxed.”

       As the boy paddled his arms gently to remain at the level of the monstrous fish’s eye, he thought about how he got into this place. The sudden fear of leaping off the dam, the rush of wind and his explosive entry into the dark waters of the hidden reservoir burst to mind. He had to admit, it was all quite thrilling! He was also thankful to have survived and found the bottom.... On a whim, the boy extended his foot downward and looked where it went. In the light of the fish’s scales, the boy could see his toes as they made contact with a silt covered boulder! It was then he felt his lungs again begin to burn and he once more grabbed at his throat. This time the fish encircled the boy and said, ‘Pull off one of my scales!’ Without having to be told again, the boy yanked off one of the small glowing scales which was large enough to cover half his face. For a second time when his lungs forced him to breathe, the boy did so easily.

       “Thank you Sir Fish! Thank you!” With nothing else to give, the boy stripped off his plainspun loin skirt and placed it in the wound caused by removing the scale. To his astonishment, the wadded skirt changed into a fish scale of the same color and texture as the skirt. ‘Thank you little one. I will keep part of your skin as a reminder of our visit. Now, look above you. The way to your destination is clear. Safe journey and if you meet the other traveler who passed me, give them my greetings if you would.’ Excited, the boy waved to the giant eye and said, “I will Sir Fish! Thank you, thank you very much!” The boy continued to wave until the light of the strange fish faded to nothing.

       Now with both feet on the bottom, the boy looked up and could see the bright blue sky through the hole between the boulders. With one mighty push of his legs, he shot upwards and stretched his hands out toward the surface. Abruptly, a firm hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him bodily out of the water! Standing next to him on a boulder’s outcrop was a very wet and very annoyed Priestess. Before the boy could say anything, his youthful eyes went wide as he took in the details of the Priestess’ womanly form in her clinging and now see-through soaked garment. Suddenly realizing what the boy was seeing, her ire turned to mirth. “I wouldn’t be so quick to ogle my beautiful naked boy!” The Priestess emphasized her jest with a hard swat on his young backside.

       Literally embarrassed, the boy went to cover his privates, but then remembered the fish scale in his hand. Noticing what the boy held the Priestess said, “Well it seems you and I have a mutual friend.” Shocked the boy exclaimed, “You were the first to meet ‘Sir Fish’?” The Priestess laughed out loud at the boy’s name for the otherworldly being and said smiling, “Oh yes. I met ‘Sir Fish’ a very, very, very long time ago. I’m surprised he still remembers me.” Reaching under her wet robe, the Priestess pulled out a necklace with a large pearlescent fish scale just like the boy held.

      “You’ve been to a very special place boy and come back. It is just as if you had been reborn. From now on, you will see the world very differently. So now you must be very careful who you take challenges from! There are people and things in the world which will want to lead you astray. No more jumping off the dam understood?” The boy nodded emphatically ‘yes.’ “Now, I have to go help a friend. Come, and I’ll show you who played this trick!” The boy had to cover his eyes as the shaded space between the boulders suddenly filled with amber light. And for the second time this day his eyes grew wide as chicken eggs!

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Pt. V

      Fearful, the boy slowly and steadily alternated his arms and legs as he tried to make headway towards the surface. Still, no light appeared above him or in any direction for that matter. Periodically he let loose a small stream of precious air to feel which way the bubbles rose. So far, he was still heading upwards. Over and over he remembered his father’s words on deep diving, ‘Stay calm and relaxed. You have much more air in you than you think. Move slowly but steadily and do not try to force your way to the surface. Do these things and you shall become a strong diver.” Now those words were the only things keeping the boy alive. It was then a blue flicker of light appeared above him. ‘The sky!’ was the thought bursting in his head.

      Quickly, the boy fought to calm down for the light was still a distance above him and it would be due to being calm he’d be saved. Upward the boy continued, but the telltale burning in his lungs was growing. Soon, he’d be fighting the urge to breathe, but the light was now so much closer ... and then it moved! In a flash, the blue light the boy thought was the sky shining down on the surface of the water was now the reflection of a massive eye just out of arm’s reach! The boy’s own eyes grew wide as chicken eggs as the light of the eye was joined by the flash of scales from a massive serpentine fish body.

       From the black void of water now illuminated by the immense fish, a voice echoed through his ears and body. ‘What have we here? A tiny, tiny visitor I see. You are much too small to be worth eating and you look ill suited to be in this place. What business is so important to bring you here little one?’ The boy was so surprised he unwittingly vented both his bladder and remaining air at the same time. The ill-timed emptying of his lungs caused the boy to grab his throat in a desperate attempt to keep from breathing, but it was too late. Water rushed in through both nose and lungs and the panic he fought so hard to contain took over. Thrashing about, the boy suddenly realized he was breathing and not drowning! It was then the voice from the massive fish flowed through him again as it said with mirth, ‘That just never gets old!’

       The Priestess stepped down from the entry block of her house onto the gravel path with measured speed. Looking at the interloper wearing the form of an enemy from ages past the Priestess said flatly, “You come here to lay claim for what you think ... you’ve lost? Did it not occur that you had your chance and what you thought yours now belongs to another?” The naked, mud-covered woman’s green eyes narrowed as she unfolded her arms and placed her hands on slender hips. “Oh. So you believe my property now belongs to you? It’s bad enough you create this haven and believe you can keep me out. But that you are also naive enough to lay claim to those things which are rightfully mine is dangerously ill-advised! Who exactly do you think you are?”

      Spreading her feet in the gravel ever so slightly,  the earth trembled imperceptibly as the Priestess replied, “Someone who knows even you have far more important things to do than quibble over three lives.” As if to emphasize her point, she twisted the Great War Spear causing a grinding sound as it dug into the dirt. There was a long tense moment as the naked woman’s green eyes burned bright and the Priestess’ eyes turned to amber fire. At the same instant both women’s eyes took on a more friendly look and the Priestess said, “As always, you prove to be a wise and worthy elder.” A wicked smile crossed the naked woman’s attractive mud-covered face showing bright white teeth to the morning sun. “Ah, there are definitely times when I’m glad I allowed you and that husband of yours to elude my embrace. It is because of you two and a few others my task remains interesting.”

       Giving a deep sigh and dropping her head slightly in defeat the naked woman then said gruffly, “Fine! I expect the usual conditions in order to claim my property.” Bowing her head slightly the Priestess replied, “Of course. I don’t know why you bothered to ask me when you are already  acting upon the usual conditions. It’s not like I ever banned you from performing your duties.” Shrugging her shoulders the naked woman begrudgingly admitted, “True. But you have hidden this place so well and since it’s been so long since we saw each other last, it would have been nice to be invited.”

      The Priestess grunted mocking the woman as she retorted, “Few welcome your presence, let alone consider inviting you to call.” Feigning insult the naked woman replied, “Far more than you think find comfort in my presence young one. Well, looks like our little visit has come to an end. You have company.” The Priestess looked up and saw the Old Grandmother at the boundary of her home just off the road. There was trouble. As the Priestess heeled her horse down the road towards the dam, the Grandmother sat upon a bench beneath the shade tree beside a small shrine outside the Priestess’ home.

       The sun was rising and it was going to be another beautiful but hot summer day. A warm breeze flowed over her dark weatherworn skin and she fanned herself with part of her tan linen garment. A pair of lovely gold bangled dark hands extended a cup of cool water from the shrine to her. Looking up towards the dark face of an equally lovely smiling young woman, the Grandmother gratefully took the cup and said, “Thank you dear. My, how much you remind me of my dear sister....”

       A spray of salty sweat splashed from the Chief’s matted short cropped hair into the face of the shorter blue-eyed warrioress. Despite the contest lasting into the impending furnace of midday, the false Valkyrie didn’t have the decency to at least break a sweat! For the uncounted time their shields slammed together and neither she nor the Chief could gain the upper hand. With her sword pinned by the Chief’s, the Warrior cast those limpid blue eyes up at his and growled, “You just won’t give up will you Aesir? Why keep delaying the inevitable? I can feel you growing weaker by the moment!” Giving his own growl the Chief replied, “What? And give up the chance to make good on parting your firm cheeks... never! I’m just saving my strength so I can spend the rest of this day and night giving you cause to call my name after I sent you back to Nifleheim relieved of your maidenhead.”

       The Valley Knight sat well outside the range of the combatants and observed intently. Everything about this scene was wrong. Though the Chief fought remarkably well against the Knight’s former adversary, it was not possible for him to have lasted this long. When the Knight fought the giant warrior, it was just before he’d escaped the city of his enemies and joined the caravan fated to be lost in the desert storm which led him to the Valley. The way the man fought was nothing as the Knight remembered. The Giant had taxed him beyond his limits with speed, skill and outright savagery. Most importantly, the main reason the Giant should not be here was because the Knight killed him!

       Yet despite having all but cut the Giant’s head from his body, he was here alive and quite well seeming to toy with the Aesir Chief. Suddenly, the Knight saw the air around the black warrior ripple as if he was watching a desert mirage. Blinking fiercely to clear his eyes, the Knight suddenly saw exactly what the Chief struggled against. Now he understood the all too familiar presence he’d felt around him since he ascended the Mountain this day. It was an unwelcome yet ever present companion having dogged his path until the day he’d found the Valley. Now it was here in the Valley and the Chief had no notion of what he was truly up against.

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Pt. IV

Peace and blessings, my name is Robert Trujillo and im a muralist/illustrator from Oakland, California (Bay Area). Writing to introduce myself and say what up to all the creative minds here. I am truly honored to find this site today and know you all exist!

Here is a piece from my blog:

After the wind, hail, and ice subsided storm raced furiously across the desert. With each glimmer of the moon she hoped to overstand, how, why, and when the priestess would strike again. A whole town seemingly wiped out. And for what? It was Storm's "Ayanmo" to be special, but now she wondered what to do next.

      Holding her sword and shield away from her body in a display of open disregard towards the Chief, the Warrioress gracefully stepped sideways circling him just out of reach. In a hollow yet seductive voice the Warrioress said, “It looks like this soft living here among fields, fruit trees and half naked foreigners has not weakened your body. Yet, I grow old waiting to feel the shock of sword and shield against me after giving fair challenge. I believe these black curs have softened your belly to that of a young girl!” Without taking his eyes off the slowly circling Warrioress, the Chief carefully picked up his sword and shield. Looking to the Aesir’s freshly painted shield the Warrioress snarled, “What’s this? You’ve turned from the gods of your fathers to take up with impotent foreign gods?”

       Upon the Chief’s shield was a green and brown rendition of the Mountain God’s awakened form. His sword now free of its sheath caused the reflected light to flash over the Warrioress. But to the Chief’s surprise, the reflected light struck only the ground behind her. His eyes narrowing, the Chief growled once more, “If you are one of Loki’s lapdogs, take your foolishness elsewhere. The Mountain sleeps and a piss-ant like you wouldn’t last the time it would take for him to ram his cock up your ass!” Grinning with malice reminiscent of a dried corpse the Warrioress retorted, “Now that’s more like the Aesir I know! Brutish, arrogant, rude. I will be happy to leave your shit-pile of a mountain only if you make me.” Flashing his own smile the Chief responded, “Whatever you are Valkyrie, Demon or Whore, you picked the right man to fuck with. For your sake, you better be female. After stomping your buxom backside into the dirt, I intend to put my hard morning cockerel to good use in it!

      Wind, fear and a jarring bump greeted the boy as he made contact with the hardened silt worn smooth by uncounted years of controlled releases of seasonal floodwaters over the dam. Fortunately, the boy’s loin skirt was between his bare backside and the slick silt. Yet, the dizzying speed by which he slid down the natural flue threatened to slide it away from his unprotected cheeks! With teeth clenched fast in a fearful grimace, the boy did his best to hold down the plainspun garment. Looking ahead, the black hole betwixt the stacked boulders where the girl disappeared loomed larger and larger as he also fought to keep his feet together. Desperately trying to be brave, the boy looked away from what would most likely be his death to see out over the rising boulders. From this height, the Valley spread out before him in the golden morning sun. Rich browns of turned earth in the fields blended with numerous shades of green and the colors of ripening vegetables and fruits. Just as fast, the vision was gone. The Boy plunged through the surprisingly large space between the boulders disappearing into a dark abyss.

       No longer supported by the silt slide, the boy fell for a heart-stopping moment in total darkness. ‘This was it!’ thought the boy. At any instant, he would be dashed upon some unseen rock never to be found. With a bone numbing explosion of water, the boy crashed through the surface of a deep reservoir hidden beneath the great pile of boulders. Stunned, he drifted down into the dark until his feet gently found the bottom. The sudden and eerie chill of the water snapped the boy back to his senses. He realized he must swim to the surface or drown. But where was the surface? The water was pitch dark and he could not see light from the opening! Despite his situation, the boy knew not to panic. He was the son of a coastal fisherman and deep diving was in his blood. As his father taught him, the boy placed his hands on his forehead palms down. Blowing out a small portion of his precious air, the rising bubbles let him know he was at least upright. Determined, the boy started kicking his way upwards towards the surface.

       Beyond the doorway of her modest house sat a ghastly amorphous blob with hundreds of  pearlescent tentacles all mottled in the colors of death. Not at all amused, the Priestess said with a flat tone, “What do you want here?” Realizing its appearance was not having the desired effect, the gelatinous entity suddenly appeared as a beautiful but strangely featured naked woman. Luminous green eyes were framed by a shock of red-brown hair and her athletically shaped body was covered in cloying wet mud. “How’s this?” Still not amused the Priestess replied, “First you try to play to my ancient fears, then to my ancient jealousies? Again, what do you want?” Looking disappointed, the naked woman said, “I know we’ve never really been on good terms, but do you treat all your old acquaintances so coldly?”  Stepping outside her doorframe, the Priestess sat the Great War Spear down on the stone entry block with a report which made the ground tremble.

       The naked woman folded her arms over her chest making her breasts bunch upwards. “Fine. Be that way, don’t invite me in. See if I care.” Now seething the Priestess hissed, “As if I would willingly invite you into my home, let alone this land! State your business and leave....” Now with a raised mud encrusted eyebrow the naked woman interjected, “You obviously forget who you’re talking to!” At the naked woman’s words, the ground trembled once more. Now turning to face the Priestess the woman said, “If anyone should be annoyed, it’s me! How long did you really think you could keep this place from my notice? You even had the gall to try and bar me from your little ‘garden spot’.” “Obviously it wasn’t long enough!” snapped the Priestess.

       Now the woman sighed and shook her head in disgust. “Honestly! You people get a little power, live for a while and then get notions you can keep me from my work. You and that damned red-eyed husband of yours have been a pain in my ass almost long enough for me to have noticed.” Closing the door behind her the Priestess responded with a snip, “Bend over. I’ll help you with that pain.” The naked woman laughed outright, her hollow voice gave her mirth a sinister chill. “Ah, that’s what I find most pleasing about you! Your lack of respect is refreshing. Even so very long ago no matter how many times I came for you, I let you be after you spit in my eye. Well, as for what I want and why I’m here is simple. You have some things which belong to me and I have come to claim them.”

       Having left his horse at the base of the Mountain, the Valley Knight sprinted up the path leading to the camp where the Aesir Chief trained those who would be the Mountain God’s guardians. It wasn’t long before the Knight heard the clash and clatter of armed combat ringing through the tropical forest. Gone were the sounds of birds, insects and other native animal life. but what remained was an all too familiar and unwelcome presence. Once the Knight neared the camp’s clearing, he veered off the path and into the underbrush. The closer he drew to the battle, the more familiar the presence became. Though his pate was shaved clean for the hot summer months, the Knight felt as if his hair was standing on end. It was definitely the Chief engaged in battle, but who he fought became clear as the Knight’s eyes fell upon the scene.

       The Chief bellowed in that strange guttural tongue of his and the Knight picked up a few of choice phrases the former seafarer commonly used. The man had reason to swear, for he fought with one of the Valley Knight’s greatest adversaries! Standing two heads taller than the Chief wielding a great scimitar and bearing a hammered iron shield with a faded gray death’s head symbol was a near jet-black warrior. His shaven pate shined  with sweat as did his naked to the waist sculpted body. Powerful arms covered in golden bands wielded the implements of combat with frightening ease. The warrior’s broad muscular legs flowed with the rustle of voluminous crimson silk pants while his large feet clad in shining black boots, firmly held the ground like temple columns. Despite the warrior’s great size, he moved with the grace of a palace acrobat!

       No matter which way he maneuvered, feinted or attacked the false Valkyrie countered it all! Only the Chief’s long experience and the recent honing of his skills teaching the youth’s had kept him alive so far. Equally, exasperating was the warrioress’ ability to turn a defense in to an attack and vice versa! The Chief could no longer afford to think about what he was doing. There was only time to act and react in this deadly game. True Shield Maiden of Odin or not, the Warrioress was masterfully versed in the art of combat. Suddenly instead of a hard block with her broad sword as the Chief took advantage of her open guard, his sword was guided gently away causing him to be over extended!

       With his body rotating to reveal his unprotected back, the abrupt realization sent a shockwave through his mind forcing him to react on pure instinct. Using the momentum of his falling body, the Chief threw himself into a mid-air pivot bringing his iron-bound wooden shield to bear in a mighty arc. Smashing down hard with nearly the full weight of his body behind it, a great report and shower of shattered wood burst between the combatants. The Valley Knight shook his fist in approval as the Chief fell hard to the ground after blocking what would have been a killing blow from the Warrior’s shield edge. His arm numbed from the prodigious blow, the Chief rolled away to gain distance from his most formidable foe in memory. The Warrioress' bright blue eyes looked upon the winded Aesirean Warrior and gave obvious indication of being quite pleased.

       “Ah, now that’s much better! But according to the laws of the Aesir in order to properly continue this duel, you must have a shield. You seem to be fresh out. Unless you have another ready, you are honor bound to yield this contest and submit to the will of the victor. Perhaps there is someone nearby who could come to your aid?” The Valley Knight was somehow not surprised when his former adversary looked directly to the undergrowth where he lay hidden. “Have you come to take this man’s place or to merely watch him die?”

       The Knight stepped from his concealment and said, “I will do neither.” Coming to a halt beside the Chief the Knight asked, “Are you in need of a shield friend?” Shaking the numbness from his arm, the Chief replied, “If you be in the mood to lend me one, I would be indebted.” The Knight removed the hammered iron shield from his arm and handed it to his neighbor and ally. “It is not what you are used to, but it will not break.” Fitting the iron shield to his arm, the Chief tested its weight. It was a good deal lighter than the shield’s he’d been used to and far more flexible. The natural balance made it feel more like an extension of his arm than just a defensive device. “Oh I like this! Picking up his broad sword the Chief said, “Thanks for the loan. I shall give it back to you shortly.” Without looking at the taller man the Knight replied, “Know you this Chief, whomever it is you think you’re fighting, you’re wrong.”

       Not long ago the Chief would have been annoyed by so cryptic a warning. Between nagging instincts and his experiences living in the valley these past months, the Aesir Chief knew all too well gods and their minions walked among men in this fertile land. Now some being from beyond the mortal world wished to test his mettle and by Odin’s good eye, a test she would have! Stepping forward in the tradition of the Aesir people, the Aesir Chief slapped his sword flatside against the iron shield signaling willingness to continue the duel. The ring of iron on iron brought to him a pleasant sound only warriors could appreciate. “Come daughter of a thousand fathers. It has been a fine morning’s exercise so far. Now let’s see if there is woman’s hair beneath that skirt or a girl’s bald peach!” The Warrioress smiled as she once more held out her arms wide in defiance and snarled, “There is only one way for you to find out Aesir....”

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Pt. III

     The room speaks of a bygone age, with vaulted high ceilings and crenelated baseboards, heavy curtains and floral wallpaper faded from the light of many summers shining through the large, open windows. The summer air comes in with the slight breeze, bringing with it the scent of eucalyptus trees that surround the nearby lake. There is the hint of ozone teasing the air, perhaps with the approach of a thunderstorm in a few hours. It is late in the day and the sun, low in the sky, creates an orange luminescence in the room highlighting flecks of dust floating lazily in the early evening.

     The floors, old and wooden, shimmered with a wax that made them sparkle and were buffed to sheer perfection by Red. They made from strong wood, carefully chosen by men who cared how their work would be seen. They were craftsmen of old who did the kind of work rarely seen today. The kind of work a man did when he could be proud of his efforts, when he made something that would last. Once these floors were shined, that work could be enjoyed by all. And it was for more than six decades. While the building is old, it is still cared for by Red, whose relationship with it is more like a lover, providing tender ministrations, and helping the ballroom maintain a quiet dignity as the decades pass.

     Coming to work here more than five decades ago, he and the ballroom have aged together, each retarding the forces of time on the other. Red, a large and still vigorous man moves lightly on his feet, as if he was listening to a music only he could hear. He always bustles about the place, and becomes invisible after a few trips to the building. He knows all there is to know about the place and manages to get two salaries due to his historical knowledge of the building. He is a curator of the many object de art that reside here and has personally taken a third of the photos that make up the photo gallery on the second floor. His work has been compared to the greats but he has remained a humble man, giving thanks to his old camera, his blessings of a sharp eye for the right moment to take a picture and the grace of God to allow him to keep taking pictures of things that mean so much to so many.

     In the middle of the main ballroom, on the first floor are a bunch of folding chairs, looking out of place, small, insignificant, misplaced, lacking the elegance to even be here, splayed out in a circle, reminiscent of something out of an AA meeting or a psychologist's encounter group. The ballroom, once a place for socials and dances, had sat quiescent for many years, until the city turned it into a community center. The building and her janitor are now, happy to be of use to someone, one more time. The room is scented with the subtle aroma of vanilla, designed to boost attention, without distraction. The ballrooms lighting is diffused with a slight manipulation so that it intensifies and overlaps in the center of the room. These lights, added later in the ballroom's existence, could be directed to alter the appearance of the room, diversifying its potential uses.

     The chairs were the hard and cold metallic ones you remember from church or from your prom. These happened to have the padded back and seat with a swirling pattern I was never fond of as a kid. They are arranged in a circle, two layers deep and has only a small pathway through the center of it. My beautiful assistant, chosen exactly because she is beautiful and secretly intelligent, thought this might be a better way of promoting equality and brotherhood. With no single point of focus, this would be a circle of potential energy. I liked the idea, the only thing we were missing were armor, swords and a Round Table.

     Each chair is filled with a man. But not just any man. He is a man that has been recently released from the prison-industrial complex. I do not know their stories yet. But I will. For me to do this thing, I must. They sit, some twisting, twitching, stirring, never still, some have turned their chairs around to lean on the back. I do not discourage this. I want them to be as attentive as they can, so they are allowed to sit in whatever fashion facilitates that. They have been asked to remove their hats and their coats.They are all eating something. My assistant, Carolyn, arranged to have a variety of crackers, fruits, vegetables, nuts, cheeses and a few assorted meats available so that if anyone came hungry, they would leave full.

     I let them eat for a few minutes. Most don't know each other but I can see them sizing each other up, and they are at least aware that everyone here is a recently released felon. They were informed of that from their parole officers. At the moment, everyone is content to let any issues go, while they decide if this is worth their time to continue. At exactly 7:30, Carolyn leaves the room and heads home, her work done. Cleanup will be done by Daniel and Peter, two of the programs support staff who will be part of the training, should these gentlemen wish to continue.

     While Carolyn is leaving, I enter the room at the same time. It is not an accident. I timed this to transition their awareness from her to me. I can leave nothing to chance. I walk in and move down the path to the center of the room. At the center of the room is a small table and a bottle of water, nothing else. No microphone, I want them to hear my voice, just as it is, not amplified or distorted because I want the message to resonate with them. They are used to tuning out those types of messages, they have had plenty of practice.

     "Brothers," I intone. "I call you Brothers, because that is what you are to me. Not in the filial sense, because we do not share parentage, brothers in the spiritual sense in that we share a common history, a common sense of the system, of the absurd, of the idea that we have been told that we are less than men, less than fathers, less than brothers, less than family. We have been told that there is no place in this society for us. That we can never pay our debt to society because we have been and will always be failures."

     I sense their bristling, some turned on, others turned off, but I know that I have their attention now. "What if I told you that no one expects for you to do anything with your life. What if I told you that ultimately the system has only one agenda for you; that you return to prison as quickly as humanly possible. Would you be surprised to know that? I am betting you are not. I think for some of you that will be not only likely, it will be inevitable. You will not hear what I am saying today. You will assume that I am just another crazy do-gooder, trying to keep you from making your money and getting back into the game. If you think that is the case, you should leave now. Feel free to get some food on your way out, tell your parole officer, that you could not be bothered with that crazy man, and you will get back to your life as a parolee, looking over your shoulder, making your appointments and hanging with the homeboys until you end up making that mistake that sends you back to the Big House or gets you shot by some police officer with an ax to grind and uses your back for target practice. I can wait while you collect yourself."

     I see them looking me over, trying to find out something about me. Trying to size me up, figure out my weaknesses. I am a black man of modest build, formerly military, so my statue while under six feet, still has the impression of size, and compact power. I am dressed in all black from head to foot. A black hat, not quite a Stetson, but not quite a fedora, something from the Australian outback. A pair of casual black slacks, a black mock neck long sleeve shirt, a long black coat from China, one of my favorites, a pair of black shoes, recently shined for effect. I have on my wedding ring, no watch and a pair of stylish but dull wire-frame glasses. My goatee, clean and trimmed was recently touched up by my wife, so I am crisp and flaw free. I take this time to take off my hat and show that my head is completely bald so they get a feel for me. This is also done to let them know that the warm and fuzzy conversation is over. Now it's time for business.

     Nobody moves. My opening gambit was good.

     "I assume that by coming here, you decided that you wanted more out of your life than you have gotten out of it to date. To do that, we must change your habits. Your life is comprised of your habits. You may not realize it, but your habits are what made it possible for you to be here, and will make it possible for you to be anywhere you want to be. We are the sum of our experiences, gentlemen. Never forget that. For most of you, that means your experiences sucked. Some of you come from broken homes, some of you are just not educated and for a few of you, you just don't give a good goddamn. That's okay; because today is your birthday. And the present I have for you, is one you have not had for a long time. It is a chance to live your life the way it was meant to be lived. A chance to make right what is wrong with your condition. You are not your condition. Your condition is where you ended up when you made poor decisions without thinking about the consequences. Today, I want you to let that go. I know it will not be easy because you are sure that you are everything that you are supposed to be and there is no way for you to be better. That is what you believe. I tell you that you are wrong."

     I point toward a section of the room that has a set of free weights and a bar bell already set up on the floor. There is also a small wooden triangle and a number of pieces of wood in varying shapes and sizes. Peter turns the light on near the setup and backs away. "I will pay anyone who can lift that bar twelve inches off the ground, one hundred dollars cash money."

     And they do. No one, not even the strongest of them can move the bar even a tiny bit. Many try stacking the wood in a number of fashions but nothing that will get the weights off the ground twelve inches high. The bar and wheels weighs seven hundred-fifty pounds. After everyone has exhausted themselves trying to lift the bar, there is an energy in the room, palpable, even a bit angry. I can hear the muttering, why did he bother to put that there if none of us could lift it? I don't see the point. I think he was trying to make a fool of us. I am getting out of here. It's impossible to move that thing...

     Now it was time for phase two.

     "I can lift the bar 15 inches off the ground. And so could any of you. I told you this was your birthday and I was going to give you a gift. And here it is." I walk over to the bar and take the triangle and the piece of wood to it. I place the triangle and wood into a lever and fulcrum position. After a bit of adjusting for placement and getting a yardstick from the corner, I ask Daniel to stand near the bar with the yardstick for measuring. The board are strong, and I had tested this earlier so I knew it would work. With only the most modest of effort, I am able to raise the bar off the ground the requisite twelve inches. I hold it there for a few minutes and direct everyone to head back to their seats.

     "I bet you think I cheated, huh? How many of you think so? A few hands went up, maybe a bit less than half. Technically, I raised the bar twelve inches from the ground. I obeyed the letter of my request. The results are what mattered. No one was harmed by my feat. No cheating took place. It was an adaption of a scientific principle called leverage. I know most of you have heard the word, now you have seen an application of it. And to quiet the anger I see in some of your faces, no, this was not done to make fun of you, it was not done to show you that I am smarter than you, no it was not done to make you look bad."

     I look around the room at them. Their faces, in various states, from bewilderment to outright frustration. But they sit and wait a bit longer. "To be fair, if you are angry, it was not about you at all. But it was. Because, this is how you ended up here. You listened to other people tell you about yourself. You listened to your teachers, your friends, your guidance counselors, your parents, and you did what they said, whether you realized it or not. I noticed that once one of you decided it was impossible to move the weight, most of you stopped trying to really move it. You are all reflective of a mindset that defeats you before you even try. I want to change that. I want you to believe that it is possible for you, despite all of the things that you have learned to date to do things you did not think was possible. Now lets be real for a moment, after all of you had tried to move that weight, when I said I could do it what did you think?"

     There was polite laughter in the room. "And after I did it what did you think? I know what it was. 'I could have done that.' And you would be right. You could have done that. If you knew that was a choice. The work we will do in the coming weeks will be about learning about your choices, learning about the choices you really have and the choices you must learn to make if you want a life different than the one you have had to date."

     I go back to the center of the room, because up until then I was moving around, to make sure I had their attention, focusing my eyes and my will upon them. I wanted them to feel my intensity about this and to have it burn into them. "But just so you know, I have sat where you are sitting today. I was once smarter than everyone around me. No one could tell me a damn thing. I knew it all. But I never took responsibility for anything bad that ever happened to me. I always blamed someone else. When I got caught stealing, it was my friends idea. I could always lie and blame someone else. And I lied like a dog. Because it was easy and I felt like I was getting over on people. And I would have kept on doing it. Except that someone precious to me paid the price. They died because I lied. And then reality caught up to me. I had to learn a new way of doing things. And I resented it and the man who taught it to me. And I resented the way he taught me, he cut me to the quick with his words, his cruel words, his truthful words. And I learned from him. Twenty years later I have everything I could want from my life and then some."

I directed my will into the center of the room, focused my voice, softened it, to make them strain just a bit to hear me." But this is not about me. This is about you. This is about your chance to do all those things you never knew you could. But I am going to need something from you. And you will think it is a small thing at first, but you will realize with this thing I ask, it is the greatest thing you could do for yourself or for anyone else. If you can't do this thing, I will understand. You can leave right now and no one will fault you for it."

     I pause, waiting to see if anyone is going to leave. I know they won't they have not heard the pitch yet. "In every interaction that you do from now on, I want you to tell the truth. I want you to be honest in all of your dealings with everyone you know. This means if you know you should not be doing it, don't. If you know that it will hurt someone if they knew it was happening, then don't do it. If you have kids and you have not seen them and do not want to because you are not ready to do so. Say so. Know that it will come a time that I will expect that you will want to see your kids, meet your families and stand before them, as new men. But for right now, I ask for this simple cornerstone of character from you. Tell the truth, all the time. And yes, I know. In the beginning, no one will believe you. Why should they? Tell them you are starting over, you had a birthday and you want to make your next birthday something you can be proud of. To tell the truth in a world filled with lies and liable, is an act of rebellion. This will be your first most important act of rebellion in your new life. Telling the truth will be the key to your new life. Will it be easy? No. Especially if you are not living a life above reproach. But if you are going to be telling the truth, tell the truth to everyone, including yourself."

     "There is one more thing I wanted you to think about before you go. There was one other way to get access to that one hundred dollars. Daniel, Peter, if you please?" Dan and Pete are both strapping lads who work out every day. Together, they walk over to the weight and each takes a side and together they lift the bar bell more than twelve inches off the ground. I walk over to them and give them fifty dollars each.

     "Think about the idea that you are no longer in the world alone. For you to make the next steps toward success, you will need to learn to work together. We will be starting the program next week for anyone who believes that they can learn something useful here. When you come back next week, I want to hear your adventures in truth-telling."

     As I put on my hat, someone said to me that I did not tell them my name. "Paul, you can call me Brother Paul."

Brothers © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

     High atop the snow covered Mountain, soft rays of dawn could be seen stretching their way across the massive Lake and out over the verdant Valley. Life was so abundant here its power radiated from this former wound upon the earth like a great wildfire. To the observer it was irritating. Long had this place been hidden from the Observer’s view. Now with it revealed, there was much work to be done. Much work indeed. But it would have to be done subtly for great powers protected this place.

       One of the guardians lay far below the roots of the Mountain deep in slumber. Far across the Valley, another guardian lay within the waters of the Lake. Its awesome power held in check by a great natural dam. There was another guardian here with similar might  laying hidden somewhere down in the Valley itself. The first two guardians could be easily manipulated. The third would be more difficult. Yes, there was much to do today and it was time to get started.

       A mighty yawn escaped the bearded maw of the Aesir Chief as he stretched and rose from his pallet. For once he was able to get a decent night’s sleep for upon the Mountain’s slopes, cooler temperatures kept the summer baked air at bay. After long months of training, the youths of his tribe and the local people were nearly ready to fulfill their roles as the Mountain’s caretakers. They were now familiar enough with their duties and he no longer had to follow them around wiping their asses anymore. Picking up a water-skin, the Chief took a long hard pull and swirled the cool liquid in his mouth. Giving a sharp spit, the water splashed upon the ground and kicked up a small cloud of dust near a pair of fur-skinned boots. Looking up the Chief barked, “What in Nifelheim?”

       The cool morning breeze abruptly died stilling the forest canopy blanketing the Mountain. The sudden calmness and quiet did not escape the notice of the Aesir Chief as he looked upon the strange visitor. Dressed in a battle-worn breastplate, a short fur-trimmed skirt and complete with a winged iron helm, stood a beautiful blonde warrioress.  Bright blue-eyes shined as she raised broad sword and shield to the ready position. “Thor’s Hammer!” exclaimed the Chief as he looked upon her stunning yet grim visage. Upon her black shield lay a faded gray Death’s Head marred from weapon strikes and dried blood. The Chief’s eyes narrowed with understanding as he growled, “You are not a Valkyrie. There are no battlefield dead for you to claim here! Who are you?”

       Looking up from her morning sweeping, the old woman watched with rheumy and graying brown eyes as a two children made their way up the boulders of the Lake Dam. They were much too far for her to call to, but the old grandmother knew no good would come of it. “C’mon! It’s right up here! I think you’re too afraid to come up this high! You’re just like a little baby chicken. Cheep! Cheep!” The sudden taunting of the girl leading the boy up the boulders of the great dam didn’t sit well with him. When the very air around the dam started echoing her taunts, his face and ears burned with youthful fury. Pointing to the dark-skinned girl whose long thin braids hung in a shining black horse tail the boy shouted, “I’ll show you! I’m as brave as the Valley Knight!” Despite his declaration, the boy was ready to run home. If his adopted parents, the village elders or Mountain and Lake forbid the real Valley Knight found them upon the dam and not on the walkway .... However, to the boy it was worth the risk of being discovered just to shut that snooty girl up!

       In spite of the swirling dread growing in his belly, the stinging sweat from his exertions and fighting the nagging urge to look down, the boy struggled up the face of the natural dam. What irritated him most was that annoying girl seemed to have no trouble making her way up! Finally, both had reached the highest point of the dam. Far below the large boulders comprising the natural barrier looked like smaller stones. The boy’s heart and stomach felt like they were in his mouth and if he unclenched his teeth, they’d fall out! Looking over at the girl, the boy momentarily forgot his fear as he saw her standing aggravatingly unafraid on the very spot where only the Priestess stood. The girl smiling said, “See, I told you! Right down there is a hole where no one can see but from up here. I heard my brother talking about it. He and his friends came up here to prove their bravery by jumping into the hole from here. He said that anyone who could do it would become brave and strong as the Valley Knight!

       The boy looked at the girl like she was daft. “Why would you want to jump in that hole? Everybody knows a girl can’t be strong like the Valley Knight! You’re so stupid!” Balling her small fists the girl snapped back, “Can too! Besides, I bet the Priestess did it and she’s way stronger than the Knight!” Now livid the boy replied, “Uh, uhhh! You take that back!” With surprising speed and strength, the girl angrily shoved the boy and shouted, “Nuh-uhhh!” As the boy fell hard upon the flat boulder, the girl lost her footing. Unable to grab a handhold, the girl slid over the edge! In a frantic scramble, the boy grabbed for the girl but came up short. He watched in horror as she fell screaming from the high precipice down towards a natural opening among the boulders. The boy suddenly saw the girl catch the gently increasing slope of silt built up over the years and slide down into the darkness of the hole. The boy had the sudden insight that there would be water down there left over from when the waters of the lake were released for the spring flood of the fields. Without hesitation, the boy jumped after her.

       The Priestess’ eyes opened with a start. There was a golden shaft of light shining down into both of them as she lay upon the summer bed. Shielding her warm brown eyes the Priestess said annoyed, “What is it now?” After an instant she sat up and said, “Husband, you are needed!” From what looked to be a dead sleep, the man lying next to her sat up with eyes open and clear. The Priestess looked at her young husband and said exasperated, “For the life of me, how do you do that?”  Already cinching his wide leather belt over his half tunic the man replied, “Habit. What is amiss my wife?” The Priestess took a moment to shake the cobwebs from her head. She suffered yet another night of stories and drinking that swill the Aesir Chief brewed, only to arrive home and have her young husband ravage her like a stud bull until just before dawn taxed even her endurance! Now with her mind clearer the Priestess answered, “Go to the Mountain. The Chief needs you. Help him you may, but don’t do so unless he asks.”

       Cocking his head at his wife’s quizzical answer, the Valley Knight agreed. “I understand. Where will you be?” As she handed him his sword and hammered shield the Priestess replied, “There is an unwanted presence in the Valley. I must see to it.” As the Knight reached for the Great War Spear hanging over the fireside he said, “Will you be needing this?” Quietly the Priestess replied, “Maybe.” That gave the Valley Knight pause. ‘Maybe’ was a word his wife only used during their love talk. His concern visible upon his strong features, the Knight held the long bladed spear out towards her. The Priestess looked into his stern brown eyes and knew to take the spear. Though she could end his life with but a gesture, the Priestess followed her husband’s unspoken command and took the weapon from him.

       In the time she leaned the spear against the wall and cinched closed her robe, the Valley Knight was astride his copper and bronze striped horse. The light spirited mount turned as he pulled the reigns and the sun flashed off his hammered iron shield across the window. Momentarily blinded, the Priestess heard her husband heel his mount towards the road in front of their modest home. A sudden odd thought struck the Priestess. The house faced the sun and it was not possible for a reflection to strike her eyes from the direction it did. Without thinking, she held out her hand and the Great War Spear leaped into her grasp. A hollow but familiar voice outside her door mockingly said, “Now is that anyway to greet a dear old friend?”

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Part II

SO, I NEED A COUPLE OF COMIC BOOK ARTISTS AND GRAPHIC NOVEL WRITERS FOR AN INTERVIEW ON FRIDAY...OTHER ARTISTS HAVE FALLEN THROUGH AND I NEED OTHERS.  i FEATURE THE TALENTS AND ASPIRATIONS OF AFRICAN AMERICANS PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE INTERESTED AND HAVE A WEBSITE AND WORKS UNDERWAY OR PUBLISHED!!!!

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One of the best futuristic films that I have seen thusfar is, "Children of Men".  Two Black characters however, the storyline behind the characters is mind blowing.

A world without children!  In the movie the world had not had a newborn child for 18 years.  They watched his every move, clouded his world with stress until he could barely breath.  Then he died, and the barren world cried out in agony once more.  But then, we are gradually introduced to Kee, the mahogany brown sign of quintessential femininity in the film.  She is pregnant and by the movie's end, births a beautiful brown baby girl.  The world can now move on. 

But that was a film.  A film set in the future that is.  The real truth is that Blacks are more likely to be tragically effected by infant mortality at a rate almost three times any other groups likelihood.  With Blacks, our children have low birth rates and fail to make it to their first birthday at alarming rates.  It doesn't take a degree in chemistry, or physics to understand that we need to help Black folks get healthier in mind, body, and spirit.  we are the Black SYFY society.  Perhaps we should remember that with no children, we have not future.

Peace,

Third Eye C

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/chasitie-s-goodman P.S. keep checking in I will have some Black midwives on as guests on the show.

So the media lies, and when we believe as Black women that we cannot find a decent Black man, than we are gullible, twisted gnomes that are more influenced by media than we are by the truth that we stare at everyday.  I see PLENTY of beautiful Blacks and Browns brimming with love and satisifaction in each other everyday.  When I buy into propoganda, I practice putting up walls in the way of a Brotha already too busy, and weighed down with stress, to climb.  Sistahs, when this happens, the Brothas simply won't climb the wall, they will keep it moving.

Sistah's we need an awful lot of encouragement lately!  An awful lot of self help manuals, books, and shows.  Just listen to your heartbeat, it tells the story of generations of Black men that have stood up to odds, and that have stood up with us as well.  Our men were the original superheroes, strong, bold, and unapologetic.  I think that they still are, just take a look around this site!

On a side note, I am looking for artists that have created Superheroes.  I would like to interview a few of you on the radioshow- http://www.blogtalkradio.com/chasitie-s-goodman 

In peace Yall!