"Where Is Baby X?" Chapter One

DCF has the reputation for losing children. In "Where Is Baby X?" a little girl vanishes in the dilapidated city of Miami while in the custody of the child welfare organization. The custodial grandmother claims DCF picked up the little girl. The overzealous investigation finds no proof to that. The child remains missing. The grandmother maintains her innocence. "Where Is Baby X?" This is the first book of the trilogy of The Little Girl in which E.C. Granmoun dramatically depicts the culture of the dysfunctional system. Read the chapter one and go to amazon and download the full book.

ONE

            “Where Is Baby X?” This is the question in the mind of everybody.

The lobby outside of Judge Zantesken’s courtroom is packed. All the seats out there are full, and people are standing everywhere with almost no space in between. There are two other courtrooms there. Judge Tuntom’s is at the west end from Judge Zantesken’s, and Judge Gonzoles’ is east of hers. All the courtrooms are also already full. Usually it is that way on Mondays. All the judges, dependency, foster care, delinquency, all have full schedules. So, the other side of the court is as packed as well. Deliayan sits in the lobby across from Judge Zantesken’s courtroom. Naiim, the social worker has just arrived. He does not see the mother. The lobby is too packed. He enters the courtroom to file his documents with the clerk. Then he returns and stands outside by the door since the room is full to capacity. He notices his client sitting right across from him. He starts to walk over to her.

            Judge Tuntom and her bailiff have just burst into the door and entered the lobby. The judge is six feet tall. The bailiff is barely five. But, she is walking in front of the judge as if she was a real bodyguard. She is dressed in some dark gray security drab with some big black boots on. She is leading the way in the middle of all these people taller than her, making way for the judge. And, as she is opening the door into the courtroom, she repeats with an extra high pitched voice and heavy Hispanic accent. “Everybody, stand up! Judge Tuntom is presiding.” Some people who are looking at her laugh. Her voice resounds throughout the lobby and into the courtroom. All attentions are sort of turning toward her. The door closes behind her and Tuntom. They continue their ways toward the front of the room.

The judge takes her position on the platform. She is a tall and lean white woman in her early fifties with a Midwest accent. She dresses in the court’s black overall, but appears very pretty, and she is relatively nice for a judge. She always reminds people that she is from Wyoming. According to her, that is why she is a nice judge.

The bailiff shouts, standing in front of the room, “May everybody repeat the oath after me please?” She starts, “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

The room repeats after her.

            Naiim has reached his client by now. He salutes her. “Hi Deliayan, how are you?”

            “Am okay,”she answers bluntly.

            Naiim understands that she is in no compromising mood as usual. He forces out, “I have been trying to get in touch with you Deliayan. Where have you been?”

            “I been there.”

            “You know Deliayan, if you don’t do your services you will never get your daughter back? Your sister told me that you still remain on the streets, and you are doing drugs. I don’t see how you expect to get your daughter back like that.”

            “My f’ing sister! Mr. Naiim, I don’ know why the f you all take my baby anyway. I don’t do no’ing to my baby.”

The door of Judge Zantesken’s courtroom blows open. Her bailiff is calling for the next case. Nobody answers. He calls louder. Nobody answers still. He becomes frustrated. He yells, “Okay you all don’t answer? Don’t come to me later and say that I did not call you.”

Naiim turns to Deliayan after the bailiff had stopped talking, “It is not a matter that you did something to your child. You are doing all the wrong things out there, and the safety and well-being of the child is being compromised. Now, if you want your child back you have to change your ways.”

The mother curses. “It is my f’ing sister. She is the one who makes you all take my baby. I hate that f’ing witch.”

Naiim pleads. “Deliayan, don’t talk like that.”

She swears. “I don’t give a f, Mr. Naiim.”

Zantesken’s door flies open again. The bailiff yells, “May all parties for the case of the State of Florida Versus Delaiyan step into the courtroom please?”

Naiim raises his hand. He tells the mother, “Let’s go!”

She reluctantly stands up and follows him.

Naiim and Delaiyan enter the packed courtroom. They take standing positions in front of Judge Zantesken. Both the DCF Attorney and the mother’s Lawyers are present. The judge looks into the file and asks, “What is this case in for today?”

The DCF attorney, Miss Ramon responds quickly, “We’re here for TPR hearing Judge. This mother has not done her services. We are going to terminate her rights.”

The mother’s public defender, Miss Cleaver intervenes, “Judge, we cannot terminate her parental rights like that. She.”

“Okay, what do we have here Miss Ramon?” The Judge interrupts the mother’s attorney.

“Judge, we have had this case for a year now. This mother has not been working on her services. She has not done anything at all, Judge, to try to bring this case toward reunification. Therefore we must move on for Termination of Parental Rights.”

“Mr. Naiim, what have you done for this mother?” The judge asks, turning to the social worker.

“Judge, we have gone through that before. We have done everything for this mother. But she has done nothing herself to try to bring her child home. In fact, according to her sister, she has given herself completely to drugs and prostitution, and she is living on the street.”

“Have you referred this mother for drug counseling, Mr. Naiim?”

The social worker responds contemptuously. “Judge, this woman has been here for a long time. We have tried everything with her. The copies of all the referrals, parenting, drugs, prostitution, all are in the file in front of you Judge.”

The Judge turns to the mother, “Ma’am, you don’t like your child? Why you don’t do your services?”

“It’s, it’s my sister, Your Honor. I, I don’t do nothing to my baby. I love my baby.”

Judge Zantesken cuts her. “Ma’am, you are doing drugs and prostitution out there and abandoning your child, and you’re saying you love your child?”

“I don’t do no’ing, Your Honor. I swear I don’t do no’ing.”

The defense attorney intercedes, “Judge, this mother expresses a desire to see her child.”

“No, this mother is not going to see her child, Judge. We are going for TPR.” The Prosecutor, Miss Ramon intervenes.

Judge Zantesken turns some pages. She takes a good look into the file. She says, “I think I am siding with you Miss Ramon. This mother does not deserve to see her child. Schedule this case for TPR at the next hearing.”

The prosecutor leans toward Naiim and tells him, “I think this mother is pregnant.”

“I did not notice that,” the social worker admits. He turns to the direction of Deliayan. Then he turns back to the DCF Attorney and says to her, “I did not notice it before. But, now you have said it, I see it all over her face.”

“We are going for this child as well.” Ramon informs him. And, she turns to Judge Zantesken, “Judge, I am going to ask for this mother to tell the court under oath if she is pregnant.”

The Judge is taken by surprise as well. At first sight, most people would not notice the pregnancy. Although the woman is standing in front of her, the judge still would not think of her as pregnant. She takes a good look at the mother again and tells her, “Ma’am, the Department thinks you are pregnant. Could you tell the court, under oath, whether you are pregnant or not?”

The defense attorney, Miss Cleaver jumps in. “Judge, I think this is a matter of privacy. I don’t think the Department can treat the mother like that.”

Judge Zantesken appears displeased and impatient. She tells Miss Cleaver. “This mother is in the process of TPR. It is mandatory for us to know if she is pregnant.” She turns to the mother, “Ma’am, you are ordered to undergo a pregnancy test. Be sure to bring it at the next hearing.” She turns to the social worker, “Mr. Naiim, make sure this mother has her pregnancy test before the next court date. The court is adjourned!”

Naiim and the mother walk outside together. They are standing out on the balcony looking at the other side of the establishment where the other courtrooms are located. The building has two levels. All the courtrooms are on the second floor. The offices of the judges and some administrative rooms are up there too. The first floor is where the major administrative activities are held. The clerk’s room, the records’ room, the lawyers’ quarter, the juvenile delinquency area, everything is there. People are moving back and forth, crisscrossing each other trying to obtain services in this quagmire. Up on the second floor, the life is much sedentary, at least for those who could find a space to sit. Still, whether you are standing or sitting, you just have to wait for your case to be called.

Naiim and Delaiyan are looking. He is talking to her. Although it is already eleven o’clock, the balcony is still full of people everywhere. It is a really busy Monday. Most people out there are smokers. They cannot smoke in the courtrooms or the lobbies. Deliayan feels an urge for a smoke. And most of all, she wants to get away from Naiim. He has been talking to her about things that she really does not want to hear. She does not want to hear about making some last efforts to avoid the TPR, and she does not want to hear about the pregnancy test.

She clarifies for him. “Mr. Naiim, y’all take my baby away; I ain’t done nothin to her. My sister is talking a whole bunch of s, and you all believe her. Am just gone a fight you all on this.”

A jumbo American 747 Airliner flies overhead. This is one of the many that have flown over since they have stood there. The juvenile facility is near the Miami International Airport and right under the path of the East Runway. About every minute a plane takes off. Naiim and his client have had to keep quiet often to allow one airplane to fly over, only for another one to take off again. Naiim is looking at the mother and thinking, she is no different than when he had first met her about twelve months earlier. She is still young and ignorant. She is about to lose custody of her child forever, and she is talking about fighting the system that she does not even understand. Again, he thinks. How could she know any better? She is twenty-two; born and raised in the slums; it is a wonder that she has even had just only one child so far. Most of the girls have two or three.

The social worker understands that much. Delaiyan started life with a very strict single mother up in Chicago. A couple of years ago, the mother died of cancer.  That’s when she came down to Miami to join some relatives in the Over-Town area. Down in Miami, she got a taste of the freestyle life under the sun and got hooked up with the wrong crowd. She started dating a young petty criminal, a pimp that introduced her into smoking marijuana and dancing in the nude clubs. He moved her around throughout Miami, from Over-Town, to Florida City, and all the way to the Broward borders. She made money. He used her money; he beat her up; and he promised to kill her if she ever left him. When she finally got away from him, she entered the world of her baby’s father, a career criminal. She immediately became pregnant. He introduced her into the world of crack cocaine.

Naiim could not discern anything different about her. She is still that hard-head ignorant young black mother who is only one year older from when he came in contact with her. She is still tall, incoherent, and dressed in a seducing manner with much of her light skinned body showing. She thinks that she is street-smart and she could get away with things. But Naiim is thinking. She has lost to the system just like most other young poor black individuals. She is going to lose this child, and she is going to lose her other child in her stomach. He takes a good look at her again. He is imagining how she was really pretty before she fell under the spell of the crack cocaine. And again, he cannot decide if she is really pregnant or not. His mind might have played tricks on him in the courtroom when he agreed with the attorney that she was pregnant. Yet again, he thinks. I am a man; they are women; they must know their things.

He feels now, he would really want to give her a last chance, to save her. He would want her to change, to do what the court says, and to do the right thing to raise her children well. He had never been in good term with her ever since he started her case. He has always considered her as an ignorant and wasted street-smart drug addict who is blaming all others for her own created monster while trying to get away with things. But today, standing there with her, considering that she is about to lose her children to a system that would not serve them any better, his heart is pushing him to be extra nice as a black man and to do some last efforts to help his kind.

He tells her, “Delaiyan, you know, I never tell you that, but you know your daughter is as pretty as you are with her milky skin and tender face.”

She replies. “Everybody say’in so.”

Naiim wants to remain nice. “I would really like to see you two back together, and the little one you are carrying too.”

She fumes. “I di’aint say I was pregnant.”

Naiim pokes. “The pregnancy test would tell everything Delaiyan!”

“I don care; I ain’t want to take no test,” she defies. She is thinking, this f’ing Haitian thinks he knows everything. She has mistaken the Nigerian for Haitian.

Naiim is also thinking. That’s it. I cannot help her if she does not want to be helped. He tells her, “Okay Delaiyan, I’ll see you on the 13^th. Remember! It is a Friday!”

She walks away sucking her teeth.  

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LWANVYO

By E.C. GRANMOUN
Other books:

The Social Worker
The Chaos Of Child Welfare: Revelation By X-DCF Social Worker
Bully: A Novel 
Join E.C. Granmoun on Facebook and Twitter and Pentrest 

About "Where Is Baby X" Book One of The Little Girl Trilogy

“Where is Baby X?” This is the first book of the trilogy of The Little Girl by E.C. Granmoun. The book is a short story, general fiction, based on the true story of a little girl that disappeared in Miami while in the care of the Florida Department of Children and Families in the early 2000s.

Miss Bella, the social worker in the cases does not like her job. She is in fact working two jobs on DCF’s time and has not visited the child for a full year-and-a-half. Naiim her friend is very concerned. He thinks something bad may happen anytime and Bella does not know about it. Bella makes fun of him. “Is somebody going to steal the child?”

Baby X is the daughter of a drug addicted, prostitute, and often homeless young mother by the name of Delaiyan. Her father is a career criminal who spends most of his time behind bars. Baby X was picked up from the hospital at birth by child welfare because the parental rights of her parents were already removed in the case of her older sister Baby D. The little girl was eventually placed into the care of Miss Bunnybun, a fraudster who befriended Delaiyan at a social welfare program for drug addicted mothers. Their scheme failed apart when the foster grandmother invited the mother to join her lesbian activities. Delaiyan walked away to never check back on the child.

With Bella the social worker not visiting and the mother’s abandonment, the foster grandmother has the child for herself. A pattern of abuse and neglect develops, where the little girl is continually beating, scolded, isolated, put in dark places, in a leash, and a dog’s cage. Miss Bunnybun’s partner, Miss Jonesey her lover who holds the legal custody, is aware of the abuse but does nothing to stop it. Then one day in court, the judge wants answers. Bella is not even there to respond. The judge is furious. When a guardian arrives at the foster home to investigate, she is told that the child had been gone for a year-and-a-half.

Where is Baby X? An overzealous detective, Sgt. Kanton is on the pursuit. He swears to turn over every rock to find the little girl.

The book is on amazon kindle

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LWANVYO

By E.C. GRANMOUN
Other books:

The Social Worker
The Chaos Of Child Welfare: Revelation By X-DCF Social Worker
Bully: A Novel 
Join E.C. Granmoun on Facebook and Twitter and Pentrest 

Get Involved In Your Community And Better Your World

There is a concept that says we are the product of our environment. It is certain that everybody would like his or her environment to produce the best. Unfortunately, it can never happen automatically. It remains upon every human being in our society to contribute to make our world better. And, what is the best place to begin? It is our own community. We have to get involved and contribute to better our community.

What can we do as individuals? We look around to figure out what is not right, or what needs improvement in our community. It could be a big political issue, a religious concern, or a simple neighborhood problem that needs to be addressed. Whatever it is, we see the problem, and we take position to lead and participate to make things better. We go about and start organizing, talking to people, bringing people together. We sit and address the situation. And, we take strategies and implement solutions for the problem. By this, we are creating a better world environment. We get to know each other; we solve the problem together; and we place ourselves in a position to raise our children together for a more prosperous society.

By getting involved in our community, we are making the best of our environment and producing the best of ourselves for our own benefit and that of the greater world.

By E.C. GRANMOUN
E.C. Granmoun is the author of "The Social Worker" ebook on amazon.com
Join E.C. Granmoun on Facebook and Twitter  

A Book To Read

The next time you are searching for a good ‘read’, don’t forget to check the amazon kindle library for “The Chaos Of Child Welfare: Revelation By X-DCF Social Worker,” by the author E.C. Granmoun. The book specifically denotes the bad nature of the organization, according to the writer’s observation during his stint there as a social worker. He notes that he wrote the book to inform people to “keep their children away from DCF.” This is a superb reason why everybody should read the book.

The author points out clearly that the child welfare environment is not a conducive place for children. Even though he talks a lot about the traumatizing condition of the workers, his main concern remains that of the children. In his view, they are gravely mistreated. They are abused, neglected, raped, and even murdered. He declares that they are often found to be in worse conditions than when they were in their relatives’ abusive homes.

Nobody wants to subject children to malevolent conditions. That is why this book is recommended for all. The children are our future, and they are not yet able to survive on their own. Adults have to make sure that all children are cared for and protected, while the children are to be responsible and respectful. This book educates people of the necessity for children to remain at home with their families and of the danger to be in the custody of DCF. 

By E.C. GRANMOUN
E.C. Granmoun is the author of "The Social Worker" ebook on amazon.com
Join E.C. Granmoun on Facebook and Twitter  

Haiti’s Regime Wants to Block Easy Internet Communications

To the world at large, this is the age of information. We are living in the world of globalization, where mankind has literally come together into a big society. Google is out everywhere, mapping every inch of our planet. Nothing is too far; nothing too isolated. The current Haitian regime appears to not feeling too comfortable with that. The government wants to block easy Internet communications, such as Magickjack and other VOIP technologies from the people. Government officials and their cronies are complaining that such easy accessibility of communication has caused them to not collecting enough money.

This is no surprise. The Haitian mass has recognized one of the most miserable times of history under this government. When you land in Haiti these days, you feel like you have entered the danger zone. The whole life condition appears doomed, dark, and gloomy, (the heat, the mosquitoes, the disease, and the sheer misery of the high costs of almost non-existing goods); the country is hell. And on top of it all, there is no electricity.

And again, what do you expect? In this plain 21^st century, I believe this is the only country with a president without a college degree. I hope this is the only country.

It is by design. From the beginning the regime started to alienate the Diaspora community, the backbone of the Haitian economy: (1) A tax on the money transfers, (2) a tax on the phone calls, (3) a tax on the airplane tickets. The next most ignorant circumstance was the economic attack on the Dominican Republic, where the common people used to take refuge and obtain cheap commodities for themselves. The neighboring country retaliated and the poor mass is suffering the consequences.

Now, the regime is looking at stopping easy Internet and phone communications. These days, most countries are offering their citizens easier and better communication. This is the way to evolve and remain to part with the world of globalization. Haitian leaders are taking that away from their citizens. They need more money for themselves. They don’t care about the mass of the people.

It is no wonder that Haiti remains a hellhole.  

By E.C. GRANMOUN

E.C. Granmoun is the author of "Bully: A Novel" ebook on amazon.com
Join E.C. Granmoun on Facebook and Twitter

All Children Deserve An Education

The governor of Florida, Rick Scott, has just signed into law a legislation allowing in-state-tuition rates to undocumented young students in the higher education system. This sounds very nice, very humane. Every child deserves a shot at education. Yet, what is behind this sudden change of heart? During his first term, the governor was against such rationale. Critics say Scott is looking for the Hispanic votes. In fact, some critic has termed it a, “deathbed conversion,” to signify that Scott is felt challenged by the Hispanic constituency. That’s okay. Politicians always do that. They shift and they take positions to win votes. What annoys us, however, is that he has left some of the kids behind.

His legislation has allowed the privilege only to children that have graduated from the system after having attended a local high school for three years. Is that fair? What about children who have suffered two years of high school? And, the ones who have done one year? This may sound a little bit too demanding. But, if you feel like you want to do something, why not just do it? It is true politics have no heart. Courting the votes of the refugees does not mean being fair to their offsprings. Yet, is not the hypocrisy too obvious?

Some Latin voters are already crying foul. Are they not right? 

By E.C. GRANMOUN
E.C. Granmoun is the author of "The Social Worker" ebook on amazon.com
Join E.C. Granmoun on Facebook and Twitter  

The Negro Child

The marauding ships sailed the high oceans from Europe and the Americas, descending upon Africa in search of laborers for the cotton fields of the New World. Caucasian mercenaries conspired with Negro despots, warlords, and rogue leaders in the jungles of the motherland, to seize and send off the children of Africa into servitude to men of evil intent. Young men and women, the strongest, healthiest, and most brilliant were thrown down deep inside the hulls of rugged ships, shackled, naked, and deprived of any human dignity under the whipping of the invaders. On the shores of Europe and the Americas, the slaves were lined up like cows in open markets to be sold at the desire of their traders and into the hands of the slave holders who pillaged the strength of those unfortunate souls and or raped them until they dropped out their last breaths. Mother Africa wailed and whined.

Then, a young man with the darkest complexion traveled from the heart of Africa, and all the way into the new world of the Americas. He initially settled in Hawaii, an America away from America, but still the United Stated of America. He came in and conspired. He learned the American way by penetrating their high institutions; he made a pact with the white people by unifying with their daughters; and, he became one with them by leaving behind his seed that would germinate and climb up the echelon of the marginalized world, to lift up Africa from down under and place her atop of society. He is Barack Hussein Obama.

The majority of Americans would not have consciously agreed that this country was ready for the leadership of an African American. The world in general would not have conceived that society would have this day conceded its reign to a Negro. When Barack Hussein Obama first appeared as a candidate for the presidency of the United States with the other Democrats in the primaries, he could not have been considered more than another simple Democrat – probably of a lesser quality for having been “black”. His resilience proved that he was a tough contender, however, when he was left alone to do battle with Hillary Clinton in a contest that at times turned to be fairly nasty. Many people still could not believe that he would be president. Yet, even that early some people predicted him to defeat Mrs. Clinton because of his calmness versus the Clintons’ agitating nature. This victory turned out to be the first major slap to the face of the status-quo. Most had likely imagined that the country would prefer a white woman over a black man.

One had to have difficulty in foreseeing though that Obama was going to easily break into the Republican line like a football player scoring a touchdown to win over McCain. Hillary expressed the uncertainty when she protested that her opponent was not a formidable enough candidate to face the Republican. McCain himself exemplified such a sentiment in his melancholic campaign.  It was like a Goliath and David affair. Even when the young Obama was consistently showing to be advancing in all the polls, it was still inconceivable for many that he would be able to travel the full course and pierce the ceiling of racism. Some observers cited what they termed the “Bradley effect”, in which they expected the white person to show support for the black man in public, but to cast the ballot for the white candidate behind the curtain. However, some people did say, “You cannot stop history.”

Whatever they meant by that could be lost in its own meaning to the sophisticated mind. Yet, for the believers, it made a lot of sense, as they would mock the skeptics after the victory with, “I told you so!”

Negroes have come a long way. From the jungle of Africa, (fighting lions and chasing wild goats as illustrated in Eddy Murphy’s movie “Coming to America”), to the top universities and institutions of the civilized world, it has certainly been a long and unpredictable journey. To be seized, tied up, jailed, and be thrown shackled inside the hull of an old nasty and dirty ship, where one lies in his or her vomit, urine, and feces for many days, weeks, or even months; and, in heat, cold and rain where a great majority would not survive the trip; it was surely a damned and tragic journey.

Slave traders and masters could not have foreseen what would become of the sons and daughters of Africa. Or, it could be most fairly said that nature has its own way. The human beings have been fighting ardently to shape the course of life, sometimes for the better and other times for the worst. There are good men and evil ones. Some people work for the common good; others promote self interest. Yet, some things in life remain absolute. The sun would rise; the night would fall; the rain would come; and; the human being and life would endure. The man would be elevated; he would be degraded; but, he would remain “the man”, the master of his environment. Whether it is a black man, a white man, a red man, or a yellow man, the basic principle for the man remains constant: to better himself.

With Barack Hussein Obama, history has come full circle. Today, the European, the African, the Asian, and the Native American are drawing nearer together in their conquest of the wild nature. For a long time the Diaspora children of Africa have been fighting their aggressors all over the world for justice, freedom, and equality. They resisted their capturers in Africa; they revolted on the ships crossing the Atlantic; they marooned off the fields in the Americas; and, they have constantly continued to battle their way into mainstream society. And, certainly the oppressors have never ceased to feel the brunt of the Negroes’ anger. It is said that some slave ships were lost at sea due to slave mutinies; slave owners were sometimes assassinated or poisoned in the plantations; and there were continual revolts, such that epitomized in the well publicized Haitian revolt led by the celebrated Toussaint Louverture that resulted into the independence of Haiti from France in 1804 to form the first black nation of the New World.

Likewise, the Negro Americans have never relented in their resistance to oppression; which led to Abraham Lincoln’s liberation of the slaves at the end of the Civil War. And, in the nineteen sixties after furious protests that markedly grew from the refusal of an old tired Rosa Parks to vacate her seat in the bus to white people, and after a formidable leadership performance put forward by the charismatic Reverend Martin Luther King and others, the United States outlawed outright institutionalized oppression. This offered basic rights to the African Americans to function in the country on equal footing with their follow Caucasians countrymen. Now, even though discrimination has persisted, and segregation in the private sectors has remained preeminent, the little tired and frail old woman does no longer have to stand up and to give up her seat to a young strong healthy white man. And, it is no longer standard for the virile young black man to be lynched for simply his natural desire of frolicking with a white female.   

Eventually layers and layers of wall would continue to crumble in the path of the children of Africa. From no seat in the bus, to a back seat, and then to a front seat, progress has been made. Of course the society has remained fairly divisive. Equal rights have never really meant equal opportunity for all. A great majority of Whites has remained strongly united against the advent of the Blacks on their system. Yet, with no legal and or institutionalized barriers in the paths of the Negroes, they have persisted, taking advantage of every minor opportunity to go up the echelon of a marginalized society. It takes much effort, (schooling, working hard, staying out of trouble), just like the white man does; and, the black man turns out to be no less than his white counterpart- if only in the rational mind. Many great and fabulous players have sprung forth in the Afro American arena. From Sojourner Truth of the Underground Railway, to Martin Luther king, to Barak Obama, it has been fantastic what the black mind could accomplish.

Why Barack Obama?

In our days, we have witnessed many formidable African Americans aspired to become the president of the United States. Most notably, there were Jesse Jackson, Reverend Al Sharpton, George Wilder, and Collin Powell. Jackson and Sharpton as is well known, are typical black men who were raised in the middle of the turbulent era of the civil rights movement in the country and in the forefront of activities. When they ran for president, they did not come merely as Americans, but more as the representatives of the Negro Americans. So, any vote for Jackson or Sharpton was a vote for the black interest. One could not say the same for Wilder and Powell. Those two appeared to be more of the elite type that could be at ease with both the Blacks and the Whites. Yet, as older African American men, they very likely would experience major difficulty to capture the heart of both sides in the racial divide.

Barak Obama in contrast, is the new wave of history. There was a rumor running around that he could not even provide his birth certificate. Some critics materialized on that to argue that he might not have been truly American. He might as well have not been “American”. Yet, why not? Nature has its own way. If Jesse Jackson cannot do it, if Al Sharpton cannot do it, perhaps it had to take a “Barak Hussein Obama” to travel anew in his father’s womb from the African motherland across the Atlantic, and into the New World for nature to redirect its course.

Obama does not fully belong to any group, race, or national origin. The conservative pundits call him “the Messiah.” He might as well have been Jesus Christ himself. As Jesus claimed to be both God and human, Obama could call himself both African and American. Plus, he is not black, nor white; he is both. He owes allegiance to no group, or he owes to all. He therefore turns out to be the right material to rise above the divisive system to make history for the children of Africa; they who have been suffering for so long under a system of nonchalance, bigotry, and discrimination.

Jessy Jackson and Al Sharpton were too black. Having been part of the generation of protesters of the sixties, having grown up under tough discrimination, having born of parents brought forth from the slave generations, Jackson and Sharpton could not have distanced themselves from the anger that Reverend Wright has spurted out so profusely when he cried, “God damned America.” They could not bring themselves and their own to cross the bridge and join hands in accolade with the other party that had so much oppressed them. Hence, they remained the candidates of their own kinds. Wilder, Powel, and others similarly could not have mustered the energetic indifference that Obama applied to shatter and enter the glass ceiling. Obama does not share such an American sentiment. His black ancestors from his father’s side were never enslaved in the New World; and on the mother’s side, he was generally raised by his Caucasians grandparents, and therefore he never really knew the depth of repression. Hence, he could rightly maintain the attitude of indifference, not known by the like of Jesse Jackson.

The romantic style the young Obama exhibited to undermine opponents and critics to work his path into the White House has underscored the brutish nature of his kind. Born of a Negro Kenyan father reportedly of a rebellious character, who arrived in the United and excelled greatly in academia only to return to Africa to drift away in oblivion and expired; and, of a Midwestern American Caucasian woman whose one of her greatest passion appears to have been a tendency to divert from the norm and to go into excursions with black men, and who unfortunately succumbed prematurely to cancer; the younger Obama could be justifiably compared to the mule born of a horse and a donkey. He is neither one. Again, to be politically correct, just call him Mulatto. Obama entered the American politics with the intrepidity of the mule – bestial, brute, and fearless; and, with the attitude of the Mulatto who owe allegiance to no race.

Welcome to the Future

To Obama, the past has ceased to be. To him, the young Africans that came to this country chained like animals inside the hull of the ship some hundred years ago were transformed with the triumphant arrival of his father, possibly aboard an American Jumbo jet, to share the seat of knowledge with the brightest and wisest American youths. In this view, the ship of slavery had been sunk with Abraham Lincoln’s emancipation of slavery; the force of discrimination died with Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech; and, all barriers to opportunity were shattered with the acceptance of the Negro into mainstream education and society.  

With this Mulatto’s mentality, the son of Africa has triumphed. Black, White, Yellow, and Red all came together with this new American on November 4, 2008 to sing, “Yes we can.” Old and young, male and female, sophisticated and simple minded, all have seen America anew. Of course, many circumstances played at Obama’s advantage: the faltering economy, the Iraq War, the McCain’s less than perfect campaign, and the celebrated Sarah Palin. Nevertheless, Obama never diverted from a formidable contender. His own campaign team never ceased to look up to him as the leader. In their understanding, he was always there to bring reassurance when things got tough. Many people saw it, with all those things going so wrong with the Republican administration, there could not have been a better opportunity for history to be made. Yet, some have counter-argued that the Democrats could have chosen one of their white candidates to be nominated.

Therefore, it must be believed that Obama had fairly won his nomination among his Democratic peers. So, no matter whatever advantage he had over his Republican opponent, he had also brought all his wit into the game. He never lost his composure; he never strayed too far from his main theme; he never came short of campaign funding, and, he introduced to the system this new voters registration drive that one could rightfully term, “the new Chicago voting machine;” which made sure that the votes of the Black and Poor were not left neglected deep inside the ghettos and the rural communities. Those votes assuredly went to the Obama’s change machine. Coupled with all the voices of unsophisticated people who saw McCain as a continuity of Bush and Palin as not fitted to reside in the White House in Washington DC, victory was assured for Obama.

With that, to agree with many, history has been made; and with others, nature has continued to redefine its course. And, Africa has come into the reckoning.  

By E.C. GRANMOUN

E.C. Granmoun is the author of "Bully: A Novel" ebook on amazon.com
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