Radical Brothers and Sunday Soul

The pace here on the ole blog has changed considerably.  No broer I am not undergoing any profound changes of the political kind.  I'm just taking a breather and breathing another pace for a moment or two.

But truthfully I am tired of the usual politics and relay crap.  Need to step back for a spell until ...

Last week I provided the closing address to a lecture by a very prominent political scientist who was on a book tour in South Africa.  I remembered him from my graduate days.  He was a known Marxist radical.

Somewhere inside his lecture I picked up that his pace had changed.  A lot.  The brother was talking about love and Ubuntu (supposedly African humaneness) and spiritual connection, etc.

He showed pictures of baby Obama with his moms and commented that she loved a black man and bore a child in the midst of racist legislation that made her a criminal in the US.

The crowd ooohed and aaahed and he proclaimed her an exemplary example of African humaneness (Ubuntu).

My head spun as anyone who knows me here or elsewhere would expect.  I recalled that just a few days ago a Nigerian academic proclaimed Sir Richard Branson a practitioner of Ubuntu at a conference meant to evaluate the progress of Pan-Africanism.

'What the hell', I thought.  Are we all just going soft in the noggin?

If I am to be going "soft", like a few of my closest have commented in recent weeks (largely because of posts here), it is not the delusional sort (I would hope) that both examples above exemplify.

As the once radical Marxist (now in his 60s) wanked on about love and acceptance I thought it was not necessarily a bad thing if you exempted (not really possible) the brutality that Obama represents despite the sentiment expressed about his mamma's Ubuntu.

I know another black radical from the US who went the same 'soft' route.  His came after he left his black working class wife and married a white professional woman from the suburbs.

All of a sudden his ass started to talk about spirituality.  He started walking her dogs on a leash to Saturday markets where he greeted powerful white men by their first names as he and the new Mrs picked through organic vegetables made cheaper by brown hands from the alien South.

I wonder about my once radical Marxist colleague.  Wonder who he married and what color Suburu/Volvo station wagon he now drives with too fluffy dogs in tow?

Broer the pace will get back to normal here I promise.  I have a few things to work out in my head and my attached life.  I don't like Subarus and Volvos and luv the sistas so don't lose sleep.

Both my dogs are bulls.  Big ass muthaz who don't know organic from a hole in the garden.

Oh yeah, the attack emailers should please keep up the usual hate mail (keep reminding me just how racist I am and how much you hate Muslims and Islam).  I so do not want to wake up to an empty email box.

The tone and tenor of your attacks keeps me strong and committed and oiling my AK47 on a daily basis.  Oh yeah, I'll have a gift-wrapped cap in your ass by Christmas.  Promise.

Nothing, nada and niks soft about that boet. 

Still, here at number 11 the pace is quiet and deliberate as I celebrate.

The song below has f*ck-all to do with anything above or anything happening in my life (well at least that is what I think - if you have heard different give a brutha a call ;0)

Onward!

"Lately I've been staring in the mirror
Very slowly picking me apart
Trying to tell myself I have no reason
with your heart"