The Desecration

On a cloudy and overcast day at what appeared to be blocks of empty vacant land and a neighboring cemetery tension and malice loomed overhead. A frustrated crowd standing along Rosa Parks Boulevard fed up with bureaucratic red tape, and dishonest politicians who constantly took advantage of the underprivileged for their own means stood by restlessly watching and waiting to see what additional propaganda would be propagated before the community and media in a small parish on the out skirts of Monroe Louisiana. 

A history of false truths seemed to have paved the way for inequality in housing, job availability and a soaring crime rate accompanied by a ruthless police force with a pension for excessive force.  A failing health care system spawned over crowded hospitals with insensitive doctors, nurses, and staff that set the stage for malpractice suits that drug in an out of corrupt courts while lives were ruined or lost.  Now the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back set in motion the second largest protest since the civil rights era almost sixty years ago was now in full swing.  The desecration of a 18th century Negro cemetery connecting to the Underground Railroad outraged and appalled the community. Heightened emotions flooded the city making not only local news, but national and international news as well.  News van after news van crammed into the parking accommodations provided for them while police stood by eagerly awaiting the opportunity to ticket and tow the media covering such a historical event that would eventually expose illegal and corrupt activities between politicians, police and land developers.

"400 hundred years...what more can they do to us...that they haven’t done already," the woman's magnified voice boomed through a megaphone standing in the path of a bulldozer.  A dozen cameras zoomed in on her with boom mics extended capturing every word.

 "They have stolen this land the same way they have stolen from the red people.  They have killed us and we have returned through the next generation...they have killed us again and we return in the following generation.  What is there to fear?  They have killed off our leaders, but their spirits are with us by way of the ancestors.  They have already taken from you...what more do you have to lose," she said continuing to inspire and excite her fellow protesters as more joined the ranks. 

"Sisters and brothers there is blood in the land we stand on.  The memory of our ancestors along with their remains lies in this ground.  We must respect their burial grounds.  Have they not given their blood...their sweat and tears in for this soil?"

"That's right our ancestors deserve better...the right to rest in peace," a man's voice shouted as he chained himself to another, and that person to another all linking themselves together combing flesh, and steel as their ancestors had been aboard slave ships. 

"You will no longer desecrate the remains of our ancestors or defile the ground in which they rest in," another woman shouted. 

The crowd gathered around the construction vehicles blocking their way to do any further damage to the cemetery.  "This is a historic site that must be preserved it has that right," she said. 

Eeriness lingered in the air. Illegally exhumed graves revealing decrepit wooden boxes containing the remains of the dead and up rooted trees created a dark atmosphere of malice. 

The University's forensic archaeologist department had already inspected, and carbon dated the site reaching the conclusion that the remains were more than three hundred years old, and of West African ancestry, and recommended preservation of the site.  Professor Moreni Ngosi head Louisiana State University of the department of anthropology stood by watching the events unfolding before her eyes wondering when the police's patience would wear thin with the obstruction of their new police administration complex;  a site that had become real estate for the taking. Adjoining row houses to the cemetery where so many were forced or swindled out of their homes by developers years prior to the present event contributed to the community’s resentment.  Moreni Ngosi continued watching the smug expressions of those in blue.  A look of contempt blanketed their faces as the speaker continued to spew out venomous, but accurate comments in regards to African descendants' turbulent history since coming in contact with whites at home and abroad.  Her words were like a double-edged blade cutting indiscriminately.  Professor Ngosi knew the young woman spoke the truth, even in Nigeria the African American's history was a sensitive topic.  She feared for the young woman's life. 

"How long do we have to listen to these porch monkeys," she overheard a cop say to his partner.

"Until we get the word...alright so stop your freaking wining."

"Well it would be nice to have a new H.Q. instead of that piss hole for a district house," he said as the two leaned against the cruiser with folded arms across their chest like the rest of their co-workers the majority being white; their black counter parts reassigned to lesser details.

 Despite the hot and humid temperatures she could not help but feel an icy chill in the air; the mounting tension from the police and the growing frustration from the community created all the makings for a violent out come.  “The university's board of directors could pull the plug on the project at any given time; depending on the politics," she thought to herself.

"Hey professor Ngosi," a voice said shaking her from her thoughts; turning around she saw Officer Sierra Sheldon a seven  year veteran that earned her reputation as a female Malcolm X and Angela Davis all rolled in one; a intelligent, assertive and conscious police officer.  She withstood the onslaught of racism and sexism like a damn holding back a river of ignorance from patrolmen to supervisors; intelligently putting them all in place.  Her first year was equivalent to hurricane Hazel.  One visit to a Lukumi root woman, and a Harvard University educated attorney resulted in a lucrative law suit against the department with three patrol officers and supervisor terminated extinguished any further harassment and a hands off policy.  Sierra Sheldon pretty much came and went as she pleased. 

"Well...look who it is...my favorite cop."

"Yo what’s up girlfriend?"

"I am so glad to see you ...I tell ya your co-workers make me nervous.  Is it necessary for them to be so...I don't even know the words for it?"

"You mean racist," Sierra laughed.  Without warning, her radio crackled with the dispatcher's voice interrupting them.  "Excuse me," she said sensing something about to take place.  An uncomfortable feeling settled down in her stomach.  "Hey...it looks like it's about to get ugly out here...you might wanna roll; a dispatch just came down from the chief...they want the crowd dispersed."
The loud boisterous command echoed with intimidation and hostility coating each word.

"You are to immediately disperse from the area or be arrested."  In less than thirty seconds police were donning gas mask. 

"I'm going back to the lecture hall where I belong.  I'll talk to you later be safe Sierra," she said heading for her vehicle,” let me know how everything turns out…you know how the media likes to edit out the truth."

"Oh I know that’s right, it's not gonna be a walk in the park...I'll tell ya that much," Sierra said looking at the vulnerable houses in the distance knowing how far the wind can carry the air born irritants.  It was summertime and most poor people did not have air conditioning which meant being trapped inside a hot box or choking on tear gas deployed in a densely populated area.  She knew how cruel those could be tossing tear gas canisters into and beyond the crowd knowing the wind could pick up at any given time.  "This is bull shit...they ain't gotta go there like that," she said while donning her mask.  The first canister popped rolling toward the protesters that were already dispersing the area.  The bluish white smoke sprayed out, and then pandemonium broke out as protesters and on lookers made a run for it as stinging eyes impaired their vision.  Some blinded by the gas ran headlong into police wheedling plexi-glass shields.  Instantly extendable batons dropped helpless protesters to the ground where boots found their way to torsos and other exposed body parts.  Spurting blood sprayed the ground as cries of agony rang out in the air.  Screaming women hysterical over children falling under the shields of the police as they tried to flee drew news cameras to film cruelty fueled by anger over the activist’s words of truth.  Even through the tear gas and chaos, the woman's words continued through the megaphone cutting like hot blades through butter.  Sierra was amazed at how the young woman had managed to evade the blows of the batons and continue her fiery speech; now flagrantly criticizing the boys in blue referring to them as closeted white sheet wearing Klan descendants; infuriating them further.

 "Yo what are you doing," Sierra yelled watching a co-worker unsnapping the holster of his weapon.  She caught his arm in a deadly death grip," there's no need for that...they're just trying to get away from the gas."  When the two looked up a host of cameras were rolling film  with lightning speed her hand reached up and snatched the officer's mask off his face in front of the cameras.

"COWARD hiding behind a mask and badge like the Klan did with our ancestors hundreds of years ago,” said the angry voice through the megaphone.

"Fuck," the exposed cop growled trying to hide his face; caught in the act of drawing his weapon on an unarmed man overcome with tear gas.  Sierra quickly lost herself within the crowd rendering assistance along with the medics that had finally arrived at her request.  As the gas began to dissipate so did the commotion as most of the protesters had managed to flee, but not un-scaved.  However, there were those who bravely fought back and were either hospitalized and or arrested, but to Sierra’s surprise, there was no sight of the outspoken young woman activist despite checking all the police wagons there was no hide nor hair of her.  "I'll be damned," she said to herself feeling perplexed and bewildered lost in her thoughts.  "Hey buddy...what’s ups...it was a real bitch out there with that full moon...got these Klan boys off the chain.  I knew I shoulda stayed the hell home."

"No shit...did you see that shit?"

"No what?"

"Fucking Wagner...that bitch was ready to shoot somebody," she said leaning over whispering, "I had to stop his dumb ass; snatched his mask off right in front of the cameras...dumb ass didn’t know it was me.  Two can play at those games," she said laughing as the two slapped five.  The area began to clear out as news vans and choppers returned to their news rooms; with the latest on how the city's finest conducted themselves at a civil  protest; an already bad reputation hung over the department like a dark storm cloud.  Now an officer's face featured on the evening news in the process of drawing his service weapon on a helpless protester created a continuation of open hostility, and criticism toward the department and not excluding the mayor’s office.  Overwhelmed the mayor's secretary and administration assistants were bombarded with incoming calls from City Council members to State Reps.  The phones never ceased ringing.  The press congregated outside the prestigious office with cameras and microphones at the ready.  The hallways remained congested as security struggled with distinguishing press from average citizens who had come to complain about the fiasco.

I hope you enjoyed an excerpt from "To Resurrect & Avenge"  written with with consciousness in mind.  Another reality continues to keep your 3rd eye fed with thought provoking articles and speculative and historic fiction.  To read more visit www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicals