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28-08-07, 06:28 PM
"A people losing sight of origins are dead. A people deaf to purposes are lost. Under fertile rain, in scorching sunshine there is no difference: their bodies are mere corpses, awaiting final burial....
Have we not seen the devotees of death? They are beyond the source's beckoning. Purpose has no power to draw them foward from dead todays. Make way for them along the easy road. Those with their guts cracked out of them, those with minds so minced all their remembrance would turn to pain, leave them along the easy road. Do not condemn, do not pity them. Let them go.
Or would you try reminding them of their murdered selves? As well graft black blighted leaves. Some restful night after the first thousand and the second thousand seasons the loss of such, devoted to whiteness in their souls, will appear justly: a gain."
Ayi Kwei Armah
Two Thousand Seasons
History is a people's memory, and without a memory, man is demoted to the lower animals
Omowale Malcolm X (1925 - 1965)
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