Friday, September 23, 2011

Prayer Rally

I always knew that the victory of Barack Obama, as America’s first black president, would spur the sentiments of the Southerners, and likewise minded, Christian conservatives, into action and consolidation. 

The Tea Party movement becomes the new hip, as well as renewed talks of “States’ Affairs”, preservation of Southern and Christian traditions, and independence from the grip of the Federal power in D.C. that increasingly burdens the nation with vicious debt (Some truly consider Medicare and Veterans’ pensions unjustifiable money). As expected, a successful Texan governor soon assumes a heroic status in mainstream White media in Dixieland. 

The United States emerged bright and glorious with the emancipation of slaves and enfranchising of the black people in the 1860s and ‘70s, to plummet into the darkness of the nadir of American race relation, up to the mid 20th century. Again, while we are well into the 21st century, White American fascism is surfacing with its hideous head once again.

It was upon my coverage of the upcoming dubious “prayer rally in the stadium”, staged by a politician to proclaim himself a champion of the Right wing, that I received a letter addressed from a Mr. Dean, an advocate of free and equal America. He asked for a meeting during the mass, one that will interest me, and perhaps pay my bread for years to come.

Following my journalistic curiosity, I met Mr. Dean at the athletes’ aisle; a polite cultured youth of the black community, Mr. Dean introduced himself as a descendant of African American novelty. He escorted me to the spectators’ box, from which the Texan governor prayed for the salvation of the American nation through Christian values. Mr. Dean led us to the seats of the elite community of Texas, and fundraisers of the governor. Behind one distinguished guest; Mr. Mark De Cuir, a famous industrialist and farmer from Louisiana, we had our seats. 

He introduced himself, unassumingly, to the textile industry tycoon. “This is Michael Dean, from Shreveport, a fellow native. How do you do Mr. De Cuir?” 

The high brow nodded with pretentious courtesy, but forgave the extended hand. Animosity surfaced on Dean’s childish face; he withdrew his hand into his lap, and continued his uninvited talk, though in a resolute assuming tone. 

“I may be obliged to stress out my name in full, Michael Elliot Dean. Two centuries ago, it would have been Michael of De Cuir.” 

That sure caught the man’s attention, for he fully turned to the man, who just declared himself a descendant of one of the slaves to the De Cuir family.

“Mr. De Cuir, I feel that you hadn’t honored the agreement, signed generations ago by your father and grandfather. I may remind you, that your full endorsement of the governor for the upcoming presidential bid is in direct violation of that agreement.”

“The governor hasn’t even declared his candidature. Even then, any support the De Cuir family offers is merely directed to community activities sponsored by the governor. Even those donations are pure De Cuiran money.”

“After all those years, the line between private and public can be very vague. If I remembered correctly, your father signed to the effect that the family will exclude themselves from activities retaining to elections, especially white conservatives and…”

“I don’t believe I have a taste for being reformed by a brat like you, or being lectured over decisions made by my ancestors. My fifty years of age provide me enough wisdom and agility to account for my actions.” He then turned his head away and faked a renewed attention to the praying governor.

“So I thought,” whispered Mr. Dean to himself. He got up and had me escort him to the gateways. Before departure, he handed me his handbag. “With this, you can decipher the hieroglyphics you just heard going on between me and Mr. De Cuir”.

The documents, covering a hundred years of American history, introduced me to one of the greatest secrets of all time.

Find out about this incredible part of American History in

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