WHAT WILL YOU DO FOR BLACK HISTORY?
Historical leaders such as Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X are now synonymous with Black History. However, are they relevant to the youths today? Perhaps we as a society should identify current inspirational figures that the youth are familiar with and recognise their achievements and significant contributions they have made to society…
We live in a world where gangsters are respected and rap-stars are role models. Nevertheless, there are some celebrities who use their status to actively make a difference within the Black community such as: Oprah Winfrey, Nelson Mandela, Lord Herman Ouseley and Jeff Ihenacho who all aspire to inspire.
Oprah Winfrey has long believed that education is the door to freedom, offering a chance for a brighter future. Her private charity, The Oprah Winfrey Foundation has supported the education and empowerment of women, children and families around the world. Amongst her various philanthropic contributions, she has donated millions of dollars to charities, helped develop schools in the USA and South Africa and build women’s shelters, youth centres and homes around the world.
Nelson Mandela was an anti-apartheid activist and leader of the African National Congress who spent 27 years in prison. He is now a cultural icon representing freedom and equality and he received a Nobel Peace Prize in 1993. Mandela dedicated his life to creating a democratic free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities-an ideal he was prepared to die for.
Perhaps less known, but equally respected Brits, are: Lord Herman Ouseley and Jeff Ihenacho. Ouseley, born in Guyana came to England at the age of 11. He was the first black person to be appointed Inner London Education Authority, responsible for over 1000 schools. He was also the Chairman of the Commission for Racial Equality and is now the CEO of PRESET Education and Training trust, the football campaign, which aims to Kick Racism Out of Football.
Store owner and stylist Jeff Ihenacho works with everyone in the fashion circle from Tommy Hilfiger to Naomi Campbell- but once a week, he dedicates his time to visiting schools, giving guidance to youths on how to run a business and general personal development advice. He encourages adolescents to stay out of trouble by offering workshops in local youth centres. Surprisingly, Ihenacho has been working with children for over 10years- before he was a successful businessman.
As important as Black History is, we must not forget Black Future, by which I mean, those in our society who do all they can no matter how big or small, to make a positive, enriching impact on our future. Winfrey, Mandela, Ouseley and Ihenacho all share similar attributes; they have taken a stand to change the lives of others. So I ask: What will you do to impact Black History? After all, influence is a hard thing to quantify. But you know when you see it- in Oprah or Ouseley- and in the long run, it’s what making history, is all about.
Fadé Ogunro
Showing posts with label Dear Diary.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dear Diary.... Show all posts
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
Wednesday, 1 August 2007
Jesus-Man
End (I)
I could see the clouds huddling together as if they were depressed. Their soft cheeks swelled, huffed then darkened. They must have heard some bad news.
‘Bye I’ve got to go’. I ran for some shelter as the clouds began to wail. I arrived (late) to work; my manager was keen to remind me of my tardiness. He looked up from behind the till and tapped his wrist-free watch. ‘What’s new?’ I replied flashing him a cheeky grin. His forehead crinkled together, but he never looked disappointed. It looked to me as if he were squinting rather than scolding.
Middle
As I was heading into work I lowered my Prada umbrella, the sky was brightening again. I suddenly felt awkwardly overshadowed. Looking down at me was this dusty black man, who was wearing a cardboard placard stating: I AM THE ONLY WAY TO HEAVEN! I laughed, after all Jesus is the only true way to heaven; my Christian upbringing came into defense.
‘What makes you think you are Jesus?’ I asked.
He responded: ‘I knew you would talk to me, why do you think you spoke to me today? After all you see me all the time.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I told him, shaking my head in disagreement. I’ve heard about you but this is the first time I’ve seen you. Anyway answer my question.’
‘I don’t say I’m Jesus, my name is-’
‘So if you are not Jesus’, I interjected, ‘how can you be the only way to
Heaven. Have you even read the Bible?’
‘I know the Bible better than you little girl…
YOU WILL ALL GO TO HELL! I am trying to save you! Heaven awaits those who give themselves to me!’ He flailed his arms, looking ridiculous, almost possessed. A few people stepped back from him, mothers steered their pushchairs away. On-lookers: adults, children, staff and customers were startled, puzzled and frightened, simultaneously.
It was during his speech, I carefully examined him. I noticed the flickered burn holes which oddly added character to his brown, long-sleeved cotton shirt. The only thing holy about this man is his shirt. I thought. My attention was districted by his feet. He was not wearing any shoes! His toenails were as thick as slices of rye bread and, they were ridged and cracked like McCoys crisps. His heels would benefit from a thick coat of poly-filler. I couldn’t believe that he was shoeless. Eww he’s standing in spit. His feet were tired-looking, crispy and malnourished.
‘I recognize that uniform!’ he said, turning back to my direction. My eyes darted from his feet to his face. His teeth were terribly straight and he had obviously shaved within the last seven days.
My uniform is black and white stripped like a referee’s at a boxing match. He pointed directly at my shop which reminded me…
‘Shit I’m late.’ I muttered under my breath. I attempted to walk away but he kept talking and following me.
‘It was meant to be, I was meant to save you, otherwise, you would not have spoken to me today.’ He said, determined he was right.
As if on cue,
lightening struck.
Beginning
There was a guy I met once. I never knew his real name but I liked to refer to him as Jesus-Man. After all whenever he came up in conversation, everyone knew who I meant.
It was a regular autumn’s day. The weather was frustrating; I could never decide what to wear on days such as this. It sprinkles lightly enough to be irritating, yet it was hot enough to create a layer of moistening on the skin. The heat under my armpits rose, I should not have worn this coat, I thought. Besides, it still needs to be dry cleaned…
Where was I?
It was a regular autumn’s day. Voila!
A rainbow appears.
Maybe things could be different today.
I had often heard rumours of Jesus-Man, he chased after girls and told them they were going to hell. ‘I am the only way to heaven.’ He proclaimed. Mad Black Man, I thought- disappointed at my own.
Mad, Black, Jesus-Man.
End (II)
Arriving from my lunch, I was interrupted by my fellow monochrome colleague. ‘Did you see what just happened?’
‘No.’ I was irritated, he was someone I preferred not to make idle conversation with.
‘Jesus-Man got arrested. But he kept saying, “My work is not done, there’s still one more girl I have to save.”
That’s strange, I thought. I wonder if I was meant to meet Jesus today.
NOW RE-READ IN ORDER: (Beginning-Middle-EndI-EndII)
Makes sense...thought so!
x
I could see the clouds huddling together as if they were depressed. Their soft cheeks swelled, huffed then darkened. They must have heard some bad news.
‘Bye I’ve got to go’. I ran for some shelter as the clouds began to wail. I arrived (late) to work; my manager was keen to remind me of my tardiness. He looked up from behind the till and tapped his wrist-free watch. ‘What’s new?’ I replied flashing him a cheeky grin. His forehead crinkled together, but he never looked disappointed. It looked to me as if he were squinting rather than scolding.
Middle
As I was heading into work I lowered my Prada umbrella, the sky was brightening again. I suddenly felt awkwardly overshadowed. Looking down at me was this dusty black man, who was wearing a cardboard placard stating: I AM THE ONLY WAY TO HEAVEN! I laughed, after all Jesus is the only true way to heaven; my Christian upbringing came into defense.
‘What makes you think you are Jesus?’ I asked.
He responded: ‘I knew you would talk to me, why do you think you spoke to me today? After all you see me all the time.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I told him, shaking my head in disagreement. I’ve heard about you but this is the first time I’ve seen you. Anyway answer my question.’
‘I don’t say I’m Jesus, my name is-’
‘So if you are not Jesus’, I interjected, ‘how can you be the only way to
Heaven. Have you even read the Bible?’
‘I know the Bible better than you little girl…
YOU WILL ALL GO TO HELL! I am trying to save you! Heaven awaits those who give themselves to me!’ He flailed his arms, looking ridiculous, almost possessed. A few people stepped back from him, mothers steered their pushchairs away. On-lookers: adults, children, staff and customers were startled, puzzled and frightened, simultaneously.
It was during his speech, I carefully examined him. I noticed the flickered burn holes which oddly added character to his brown, long-sleeved cotton shirt. The only thing holy about this man is his shirt. I thought. My attention was districted by his feet. He was not wearing any shoes! His toenails were as thick as slices of rye bread and, they were ridged and cracked like McCoys crisps. His heels would benefit from a thick coat of poly-filler. I couldn’t believe that he was shoeless. Eww he’s standing in spit. His feet were tired-looking, crispy and malnourished.
‘I recognize that uniform!’ he said, turning back to my direction. My eyes darted from his feet to his face. His teeth were terribly straight and he had obviously shaved within the last seven days.
My uniform is black and white stripped like a referee’s at a boxing match. He pointed directly at my shop which reminded me…
‘Shit I’m late.’ I muttered under my breath. I attempted to walk away but he kept talking and following me.
‘It was meant to be, I was meant to save you, otherwise, you would not have spoken to me today.’ He said, determined he was right.
As if on cue,
lightening struck.
Beginning
There was a guy I met once. I never knew his real name but I liked to refer to him as Jesus-Man. After all whenever he came up in conversation, everyone knew who I meant.
It was a regular autumn’s day. The weather was frustrating; I could never decide what to wear on days such as this. It sprinkles lightly enough to be irritating, yet it was hot enough to create a layer of moistening on the skin. The heat under my armpits rose, I should not have worn this coat, I thought. Besides, it still needs to be dry cleaned…
Where was I?
It was a regular autumn’s day. Voila!
A rainbow appears.
Maybe things could be different today.
I had often heard rumours of Jesus-Man, he chased after girls and told them they were going to hell. ‘I am the only way to heaven.’ He proclaimed. Mad Black Man, I thought- disappointed at my own.
Mad, Black, Jesus-Man.
End (II)
Arriving from my lunch, I was interrupted by my fellow monochrome colleague. ‘Did you see what just happened?’
‘No.’ I was irritated, he was someone I preferred not to make idle conversation with.
‘Jesus-Man got arrested. But he kept saying, “My work is not done, there’s still one more girl I have to save.”
That’s strange, I thought. I wonder if I was meant to meet Jesus today.
NOW RE-READ IN ORDER: (Beginning-Middle-EndI-EndII)
Makes sense...thought so!
x
Mark Rothko
Mark Rothko
Dear Diary,
The room is much darker than any exhibition I’m accustomed to. I feel the intimacy, the spirit of the dark boudoir-like colours: the tranquil. Some on-lookers do as I; sit on the benches. They seem to be gathering their thoughts, admiring the paintings, some simply to rest, or to tie-up shoelaces. The lines are systematic calculated but without restriction and explanations (literally). They are huge Muriels of window-like outlines constructed with steady, basic strokes. Black squares on a deep wine background. The lighting, atmosphere and mood seem to have changed in comparison to the outside world. Perhaps, this is the meaning- to physically draw you in. I believe it is more than the art which attracts and sustains my glare. A sense of relaxation overwhelms me. Subsequently, my butt remains on the bench, the most comfortable marble bench. The room contains art, but is in itself art. Why do I feel like it’s quite a sexy atmosphere? I could bring a date here. These paintings can de translated and transported into any surrounding. ‘That looks like the twilight zone’ I hear a young student say. So the feeling is not mutual then, I thought. They dismiss the room, after a few glances and proclaim, BORING, Let’s go. Do not admire just the art, I mean the whole room has its own ambience. The archway which is the main source of light- The room has no door, but still manages to feel completely separate to the rest of the gallery. If this is the mood Mark Rothko aspired to achieve, then I would love to visit his house, his room, his world. Don’t know if I am doing this stream of consciousness exercise right but here is my attempt anyway P.s I need to find if this Mark guy is single.
SHOE FETISH
Dear Diary,
I have a confession, I have a…
FETISH
My shoes are no longer on my feet or rather, my feet are not in the safe hiding of my shoes. I was wearing a black vintage pair of stilettos; never open-toed mind you. I would not wish that on anyone… the sight of my feet is incomprehensible (to me anyway.) My shoes define my outfit and out-feet. I can’t really explain what that means as I h a v e t o o m u c h t I m e to answer such a short question.
All that matters is…
The big toe is fudge shaped, whilst the subsequent is rather match-stick-like. What an odd couple! But in my shoes, even this is petty.
My life revolves around…
The smell of a cobbler; the distinct smell that triggers your sensory eg. When you smell a cigarette and you know it’s not a cigarette. But all the same, it’s an addiction.
Each hour I think…
Green shoes, red shoes, leather, open-toe, brown, tan, camel, sand, caramel, cocoa-brown, crocodile skin, tie-ups, lace-ups, stilettos, trainers, sneakers, plimsoles, snake skin, off-white, lacey, vintage, classic, nubuck, sling backs, winkle pickers, court, cowboy boots, flats, wedges, sandals, knee-length boots, pumps, dolly…
…shoes.
Miss F.O 4/11/06.
I am sitting on my bed and I speed wrote this. Hope it makes some type of sense, if it doesn’t, I don’t mind... I get it! That’s how I feel about life, as long as I kind of understand what’s going on, I’ll be fine. I hate confusion and even worse curiosity.
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