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2020.08.28 18:13 HaulA28Augl Ginger G-ay Catholic Da-ting Fin-d

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2020.08.12 00:55 bhambetty 2020 Best of r/Birmingham

Below are the results of the 2020 Best of Birmingham Guide! I am only listing the top three picks for all categories, for the sake of brevity, and some categories may have fewer than three top picks due to lack of consensus in voting. You can see a list of all responses here.
Thanks to all who voted. If you didn’t get a chance to submit your picks, drop a note in the comments. I plan to do this every year.
Get yer scrolling finger ready!

Food and Drink

Best Fine Dining Restaurant
  1. Highlands Bar & Grill - 45%
  2. Automatic Seafood and Oysters - 11%
  3. (Tie) Café Dupont & Chez Fonfon - 9%
Best Casual Restaurant (overall)
  1. Rojo - 10%
  2. Trattoria Zaza - 9%
  3. (Tie) Back Forty Beer Company, El Barrio, & Paramount - 7%
Best Mexican/Tex-Mex/Latin American Restaurant
  1. El Barrio - 34%
  2. Los Amigos - 11%
  3. Rojo - 8%
Best Tacos
  1. Dos Hermanos - 43%
  2. Taco Morro Loco - 18%
  3. Gordo's - 11%
Best Italian Restaurant
  1. Gianmarco's - 48%
  2. Giuseppe's Café - 21%
  3. Bettola - 8%
Best Pizza
  1. Post Office Pies - 27%
  2. Slice - 20%
  3. (Tie) Davenport’s Pizza Palace & Trattoria Zaza - 8%
Best Chinese Restaurant
  1. Red Pearl - 33%
  2. Mr. Chen's - 24%
  3. New China Town - 11%
Best Japanese Restaurant
  1. Ikko - 18%
  2. Shu Shop - 13%
  3. (Tie) Bamboo on 2nd, Kobe, & Sushi Village - 11%
Best Thai Restaurant
  1. Blue Pacific - 45%
  2. Surin - 25%
  3. Yum Yai - 13%
Best Indian Restaurant
  1. Taj India - 38%
  2. Bay Leaf - 29%
  3. Silver Coin - 22%
Best Asian (other) Restaurant
  1. Bamboo on 2nd - 17%
  2. Phở Quê Hương - 11%
  3. (Tie) Saigon Noodle House, Shu Shop, & Yummefy - 8%
Best Mediterranean/Middle Eastern Restaurant
  1. Makarios - 32%
  2. Falafel Café - 23%
  3. (Tie) Pita Stop & The Purple Onion - 9%
Best American Style Restaurant
  1. Jack Brown's Beer and Burger Joint - 14%
  2. (Tie) Johnny's, Niki's West, & Yo’ Mama's - 9%
  3. Paramount - 6%
Best Ethnic Restaurant Not Categorized Above
  1. Tropicaleo - 29%
  2. Red Sea Ethiopian and Mediterranean - 19%
  3. Miami Fusion Café - 10%
Best Vegetarian/Vegan Options
  1. Tropicaleo - 24%
  2. Golden Temple - 21%
  3. Shu Shop - 7%
Best BBQ Restaurant
  1. Saw's - 62% (Y’all were split on which location is best)
  2. Rodney Scott’s BBQ - 11%
  3. (Tie) Full Moon Bar-B-Que & Rusty's Bar-B-Q - 6%
Best Food Truck
  1. Eugene's Hot Chicken - 28%
  2. Dos Hermanos - 23%
  3. (Tie) Paradise Chow & Shindigs - 7%
Best Wings
  1. Saw's - 24%
  2. Moe's Original BBQ - 17%
  3. Paramount - 14%
Best Hot Dog
  1. Gus's Hot Dogs - 60%
  2. Sneaky Pete’s - 12%
  3. Paramount - 8%
Best Bakery
  1. Birmingham Breadworks - 24%
  2. Continental Bakery - 20%
  3. Edgar's Bakery - 16%
Best Ice Cream
  1. Big Spoon Creamery - 62%
  2. Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams - 21%
  3. Mountain Brook Creamery - 8%
Best Pie (Dessert)
  1. Johnny Ray’s BBQ - 17%
  2. (Tie) Niki's West & The Bright Star - 11%
Best Coffee Shop
  1. Red Cat Coffee House - 25%
  2. Church Street Coffee & Books - 16%
  3. (Tie) Domestique, Filter Coffee Parlor, O'Henry's, & Seeds Coffee Co. - 10%
Best Brunch
  1. Trattoria Zaza - 17%
  2. Big Bad Breakfast - 15%
  3. (Tie) El Barrio & First Watch - 9%
Best Late Night Eats
  1. Al's Deli & Grill - 32%
  2. Marty’s PM - 19%
  3. Shu Shop - 14%
Best Burger
  1. Jack Brown's Beer & Burger Joint - 30%
  2. Chez Fonfon - 18%
  3. Back Forty Beer Company - 12%
Best Pub Grub
  1. Carrigan's Public House - 19%
  2. (Tie) Back Forty Beer Company, Black Market Bar, & Paramount - 11%
  3. Marty's GM - 8%
Best Seafood
  1. Automatic Seafood and Oysters - 51%
  2. The Fish Market - 14%
  3. Ocean - 11%
Best Steak
  1. Perry's Steakhouse & Grille - 26%
  2. (Tie) Bellini's Ristorante & The Bright Star - 9%
Best Hole in the Wall Restaurant
  1. Blue Pacific - 11%
  2. Giuseppe's Café - 10%
  3. Delta Blues Hot Tamales - 7%
Best Caterer
  1. Savoie - 17%
Best Restaurant or Food Not Categorized Above
  1. Eugene's Hot Chicken - 19%
  2. Chez Fonfon - 14%
  3. Niki’s West - 10%
Best Local Dish (Overall)
  1. Saw's Juke Joint Pork & Greens - 33%
Best Brewery
  1. TrimTab Brewing Company - 52%
  2. (Tie) Back Forty Beer Company & Good People Brewing Company - 15%
  3. Cahaba Brewing Company - 7%
Best Cocktail Bar
  1. The Collins Bar - 30%
  2. The Atomic Lounge - 26%
  3. Queen's Park - 20%
Best Pub
  1. Dave's Pub - 36%
  2. Carrigan's Public House - 16%
Best Dive Bar
  1. Marty's - 23%
  2. The Nick - 17%
  3. Upside Down Plaza - 14%
Best Wine Bar
  1. Freddy's Wine Bar - 50%
  2. Golden Age Wine - 22%
Best Sports Bar
  1. (Tie) Buffalo Wild Wings & Paramount - 20%
Best Bar for College Students
  1. Innisfree Irish Pub - 35%
  2. SideBar - 20%
  3. Black Market Bar - 10%
Best Liquor Store
  1. ABC (State-run liquor stores) - 58%
  2. Highland Package - 19%
  3. LeNell’s Beverage Boutique - 15%
Best Local Beer
  1. TrimTab – Any - 21%
  2. TrimTab Paradise Now - 19%
  3. (Tie) Ghost Train – Any, Good People Muchacho, & Good People Snake Handler - 6%
Best Local Signature Cocktail
  1. Sex Panther at The Atomic Lounge - 36%
  2. Anything at Queens Park - 21%

Services

Best Men's Haircut/Barber
  1. Single Barrel Barbershop - 27%
  2. (Tie) Suaze at Birmingham Classic Cuts, Newman at Birmingham Classic Cuts, & Salon U - 13%
Best Women's Haircut/Color
  1. Wheelhouse Salon - 19%
  2. (Tie) Beauty Shock, The Collective, Hairfolk, & Salon U - 10%
Best Tattoo Artist
  1. (Tie) Amber at Sanctum, Shane at Nonstop, & Sean at Nonstop - 13%
Best Gym or Fitness Center
  1. YMCA - 20%
  2. UAB Rec Center - 15%
Best Veterinarian
  1. Avondale Animal Hospital - 24%
  2. Riverview Animal Clinic - 14%
  3. (Tie) Cat Haven & Eastwood Animal Clinic - 10%
Best Realtor
  1. David Spurling - 14%
Best Auto Mechanic
  1. Green Garage - 50%
  2. Element Garage - 15%

Things to Do

Best First Date (restaurant, venue, or activity)
  1. (Tie) Bamboo on 2nd, Barons game, Saturn, & Vulcan - 8%
Best Casual Date
  1. (Tie) Birmingham Barons game & The Garage - 10%
Best Anniversary/Birthday Date
  1. Highlands Bar & Grill - 17%
  2. Bottega Café - 10%
Best Place to Meet Local Singles
  1. Birmingham GO Kickball - 27%
  2. Dating App/Online - 18%
Best Girls' Night Out
  1. Queen's Park - 27%
Best Guys' Night Out
  1. (Tie) Civil Axe Throwing & Topgolf - 13%
Best Thing to Do With a Group of Friends
  1. Brewery Tour - 15%
  2. (Tie) Birmingham Barons game & Pedal tour - 10%
Best Non-Alcoholic/All Ages Activity
  1. Birmingham Barons game - 19%
  2. (Tie) Railroad Park, Red Mountain Park, & Topgolf - 11%
  3. (Tie) Birmingham Botanical Gardens & Ruffner Mountain - 7%
Best Thing to do With Kids
  1. McWane Science Center - 33%
  2. Birmingham Zoo - 13%
  3. (Tie) Hike at a local park & Railroad Park - 8%
Best Place to Make New Friends
  1. (Tie) At a bar & Birmingham GO Kickball - 15%
Best Party (Non-Wedding) Venue
  1. (Tie) Avondale Event Room, Haven, & Iron City - 20%
Best View of the City
  1. Vulcan 58%
  2. The Club - 10%
Best Hiking
  1. Ruffner Mountain - 50%
  2. Red Mountain - 26%
  3. Oak Mountain - 22%
Best Swimming
  1. Oak Mountain Lake - 50%
  2. Cahaba River - 20%
Best Museum
  1. Birmingham Museum of Art - 58%
  2. Birmingham Civil Rights Institute - 25%
  3. McWane Science Center - 8%
Best Park
  1. Railroad Park - 64%
Best Place for Dogs
  1. Red Mountain Park - 50%
  2. George Ward Park - 17%
Best Quiet Study Spot
  1. (Tie) Church Street Coffee and Books & Hoover Public Library - 13%
Best Farmer's Market
  1. The Market at Pepper Place - 81%
  2. Alabama Farmer’s Market - 9%
  3. Birdsong Market - 6%

Things to Know

Birmingham's Best Kept Secret
  1. The Garage - 20%
  2. (Tie) Blue Pacific & Jim Reed Books - 10%
Best Tourist Attraction
  1. Vulcan - 55%
  2. Birmingham Civil Rights Institute - 23%
  3. Sloss Furnaces - 9%
Best Music Venue
  1. (Tie) Iron City & Saturn - 42%
  2. Avondale Brewing Company - 5%
Best Local Band
  1. St. Paul and the Broken Bones - 18%
  2. (Tie) Manic Vision & The Brook and the Bluff - 9%
Best Bookstore
  1. Thank You Books - 55%
  2. Jim Reed Books - 20%
  3. Little Professor Bookshop - 15%
Best Locally Owned Store (Overall)
  1. (Tie) Birmingham Oddities, Dreamers Supply Co., Thank You Books, & Yellowhammer Creative - 10%
Best Place to Buy Local Gifts
  1. Yellowhammer Creative - 32%
  2. Alabama Goods - 21%
  3. (Tie) Ore Mercantile & Pizitz - 11%
Best Neighborhood for Young Adults
  1. Crestwood - 30%
  2. Highland Park - 28%
  3. Avondale) - 10%
Best Neighborhood for Families
  1. Homewood - 38%
  2. (Tie) Forest Park & Mountain Brook - 12%
  3. Crestwood - 9%
Worst Landlord/Leasing Agency (Ya’ll couldn’t come to an agreement on the Best)
  1. H2 - 33%
  2. Highland Historic Properties - 25%
  3. (Tie) Fred Nassar & Southside Apartment Company - 17%
Best Place to Volunteer
  1. Greater Birmingham Humane Society - 40%
  2. (Tie) Alabama Wildlife Center & GoBabyGoBHM - 13%
Best Place to Work
  1. UAB - 64%
Best Elementary/Middle School
  1. (Tie) Bluff Park & Crestline - 29%
Best High School
  1. (Tie) Homewood & Ramsay - 22%
Best Source for Local News
  1. Al.com - 35%
  2. WBHM - 24%
  3. Birmingham - 18% (we did it, reddit?)

Fun Facts

What is the Best Thing About Birmingham?
  1. Food/Beer - 41%
  2. Big city feel, little city charm - 28%
  3. Friendly people - 21%
What is the Worst Thing About Birmingham?
  1. Traffic - 20%
  2. Racism/Segregation - 14%
  3. Politics - 11%
Best Location for a Day Trip or Short Vacation
  1. (Tie) Cheaha, Gulf Coast, Lake Guntersville, Lake Martin, Mentone, & Oak Mountain - 8%
Best Local Instagram Account
  1. @InstagramBham - 38%
  2. @bhamnow - 31%
Best Local Celebrity
  1. Randall Woodfin - 24%
  2. Roy Wood Jr. - 19%
  3. (Tie) Charles Barkley & James Spann - 10%
Worst Local Celebrity
  1. Taylor Hicks - 32%
  2. Alexander Shunarrah - 16%
  3. (Tie) James Spann & Rick and Bubba - 11%
What is Something Birmingham is Best Known For?
  1. Civil Rights - 32%
  2. Food - 27%
  3. Racism - 9%
I Just Saw a Bunch of Police Cars Racing By. What's Going On?
  1. Shooting - 28%
  2. Testing fire trucks and ambulances - 8%
  3. (Tie) Hero Doughnuts just opened a new location & Hoover PD ruining someone's day – 6%
submitted by bhambetty to Birmingham [link] [comments]


2020.07.28 18:32 NationofChange Ethiopia’s volatile path to democracy

By: Graham Peebles - July 28, 2020
Read the article here: https://www.nationofchange.org/2020/07/28/ethiopias-volatile-path-to-democracy/
Ancient ethnic divisions and long held grievances die hard. Ethiopia is made up of dozens of tribal/ethnic groups, divided into nine regional states. Oromia is the largest region (it includes the capital, Addis Ababa) and, with 34% of the population (c.40 million), the Oromo people make up the biggest single group.
On 29th June the popular Oromo singepolitical activist Hachalu Hundesa was murdered in Addis Ababa, triggering protests, killings and violence. The U.N. Human Rights agency report that protests were ethnically driven, roads in parts of Oromia were blocked, “buildings vandalized and burnt…. gunfire and bomb explosions in Addis Ababa.” Official estimates say that 239 people died in the unrest.
The government’s heavy-handed reaction was to arrest almost 5,000 people including political activists, journalists and a leading critic of the government, Jawar Mohammed, and shut down the Internet (30th June). Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed said that Hundessa had been killed by groups working to inflame ethnic tensions and trigger civil war, but gave no details; the Minister in Charge of Democratization, Zadig Abraha, accused “external forces opposed to democratic change of involvement in the violence,” again without details. In an interview with France24 he also denied widespread claims that the government was using the unrest as an excuse to crackdown on the opposition and stifle dissent. It has nevertheless arrested key members of opposition parties, who they claim are linked to the violence.
At demonstrations in Paris by the Oromo diaspora on 11th July organizers claimed that Hundessa was murdered “on government orders”, because “he was Oromo.” The government has since announced that they have arrested suspects in the murder of Hundessa.
Abiy is the first Oromo PM, and when he took office in 2018 the Oromo people rejoiced. Initial jubilation was short lived though; some within the community remain loyal, others are disappointed in his tenure – “we thought that Abiy Ahmed supported our cause because he is Oromo, but over the past year Ethiopia has become a dangerous country for us,” while some, including Jawar Mohammed, have gone further and are actively working to undermine his leadership and destabilize the government.

Stepping backward?

For decades Ethiopia was ruled by a brutal regime that terrorized and suppressed large sections of the population. The ruling party outlawed political opposition, trampled on human rights, tortured, raped and murdered. Despised and widely feared, after four years of protests in which Hachalu Hundesa and his music played an important role, the EPRDF government (made up of parties from four regions but dominated by a group of Tigray men within the TPLF) collapsed in April 2018.
No elections were held and the EPRDF coalition stayed in office; Abiy Ahmed (a member of the previous administration) became Prime-Minister and a fresh, gender-balanced cabinet was installed.
Acknowledging the atrocities of the previous regime and the deep-seated ethnic divisions in the country, in his inaugural speech Abiy pleaded: “I call on us all to forgive each other from our hearts. To close the chapters from yesterday, and to forge ahead to the next bright future through national consensus.” Restrictions on independent media were lifted, websites unblocked, political prisoners released, repressive laws repealed and the border conflict with Eritrea resolved. Many Ethiopians living abroad returned home amid an atmosphere of expectation and hope.
But as the political space opened, suppressed feelings and historic grievances related to land, and issues of identity and governance surfaced among various ethnic groups. Military insurgencies and inter-communal violence erupted in a number of regions (Amhara, Oromia, Harar, Dire Dawa, Benishangul, and the SNNP) leading to the internal displacement of (currently) 1.5 million (down from 2.9 million in 2018); people whom the government has failed to support. And, consistent with the policy of Ethnic Federalism (used by the previous regime a tool to ‘divide and rule’) enshrined in the 1994 constitution, there have been calls for autonomy from groups in Oromia, the northern Amhara region and by Sidama in the Southern Nations Nationalities and Peoples (SNNP).
The atmosphere is volatile, and while under Abiy much that is positive has taken place, “local governance and security have sharply deteriorated in many locations,” and the lack of law and order, HRW report. “means there are few constraints on how grievances are expressed.”
The government’s response to inter-communal conflict has fluctuated between inadequate and inflammatory, and disturbingly, there have been a series of violations by security forces. Killings, torture, and arbitrary arrests have been documented by HRW, in addition to “shutdowns of phone and internet services in Oromia, and the arrests of journalists and opposition leaders and their supporters.” Amnesty International, in their detailed report, relate that between December 2018 and December 2019, “at least 10,000 people were arbitrarily arrested and detained ….as part of the government’s crackdown on armed attacks and violence in Oromia Region.” They claim that, reminiscent of the previous regime, security forces “burned homes to the ground, committed rape and extrajudicial execution in response to inter-communal violence.”
And while old laws of control have been repealed, controversial new ones have been enacted. On 23rd March 2020 the Government introduced The Hate Speech and Disinformation Prevention and Suppression Proclamation, in order they state, to curb, inflammatory language on social media. Human rights groups say it contains a vague definition of disinformation, and HRW describes it as “an ill-construed law that opens the door for law enforcement officials to violate rights to free expression.”
“A 5-month State of Emergency (SOE), beginning in April,” has also been imposed. To limit “the spread of the Coronavirus (COVID-19).” This seems unjustified – when it was brought in only three deaths and 82 cases of the virus had been reported in Ethiopia, and to date, according to Worldmeter, the numbers remain low – 128 deaths and fewer than 8,000 reported cases. The SOE essentially bans protests and has been used HRW says “as a pretext to restrict free speech.”
General elections, due to take place in August this year have also been canceled due to the pandemic. However, in order for parliamentary elections to go ahead at all, a national census (postponed once in 2017 and again this year) is badly needed.

The need for unity

Moving from an authoritarian government to democracy, which has never existed in Ethiopia, was never going to be easy or take place overnight. Many challenges are involved in such a transition and mistakes are inevitable. It is crucial, though, that the Government does not dilute reforms and revert to suppressive methods. For change to be lasting, developments need to be gradual and have broad consensus: this requires that everyone who wishes to contribute to the debate, is able to do so.
There have been changes within civil society including the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission (EHRC), the media and the judiciary but they are still not seen to be free of government influence. Fully independent transparent institutions (particularly the EHRC) that are trusted should be quickly established; institutions that are capable of dealing with community grievances impartially and effectively, and thereby reducing the risk of escalation. The government needs to reinstate law and order where it has broken down, this is crucial, and, as HRW say, “perpetrators of violence need to be charged in accordance with Ethiopian law.” Importantly this must include members of the security forces, who have acted with impunity for decades; anyone breaking the law must face justice.
Ethnically based identity is currently a powerful divisive force in the country, this need not be the case. Ethnic diversity should be seen as a positive factor, with each group being respected and encouraged to add their distinct tone and color to the overall life of the nation, thereby enriching the culture for all. Diversity in unity should be the aim. Historical injustices and grievances need to be acknowledged, and, in an atmosphere of forgiveness and tolerance, community healing allowed to take place.
Political parties aligned along ethnic lines intensifies existing divisions; political groups need to evolve that are free from any specific ethnic association. This would negate the suspicion of community bias and build trust. Despite the recent upheavals, the opportunity for lasting change persists in this wonderful country. Unwavering commitment to human rights, social justice and national unity, should be the government’s driving goals; the Ethiopian people deserve no less.
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2020.06.12 00:59 zhdat Local Restaurants we have experienced (Warning: Super-long post)

Hello, Columbusites!
My partner (yes, she is in this subreddit) and I have been always trying to find local restaurants in Columbus as part of promoting and supporting them. While binging on the subreddit last night, I came up with an idea to create a post for some restaurants that we were impressed with that are relatively less known. After several hours of writing, which my partner did mostly, here are 'hidden gems' we found (and Thanks to my partner who did all eloquent writings on those restaurants!)
Sargam (https://sargamrestaurant.com/) - We crave the Badami naan, but never struggle to find many tasty dishes. As we work our way through their menu, some favorites are emerging; samosa chaat, momo (my partner thinks their fried vegetable momo surpass Momo Ghar), and their biryani and Thali (round platter) are so good - always chock full of whatever ingredient is highlighted in its name. This is really a gem on the east side. We’ve done date nights there, taken friends and family, and enjoyed carry out several times through sheltering in. Lastly, the service is extremely friendly and professional.
Lalibela (http://lalibelarestaurant.net/) - What I love about this Ethiopian restaurant, other than the incredible food, is the joy I am filled with sharing from a communal platter with my loved ones. If you’re lucky enough to be there during a coffee service, the smell will make you salivate. If you’re more of the wine and dine type, the Ethiopian honey wine is sweet, but a beautiful complement to the spicy food. We typically build our meal around Mahberoch (lamb) and then add in another dish or two according to our group size. If you have a group with special diet needs, this is an ideal place - many vegan options, it’s all gluten-free because the injera (Ethiopian bread) is made with ancient grain, and there are only a couple dishes on the menu with dairy.
Scali (http://www.scaliristorante.com/menu-1.html) - Definitely a place that makes you feel welcome and special. It’s just damn good Italian food. My partner and I started with Bruschetta and shared Lu Lu (Seafood Penne) and Peasant Tortellini. Also, their tiramisu made with Bailey’s is so good. Personally, I would rather spend $70 on two people’s full course meal at Scali’s than some mediocre Italian restaurants in town that charge you over $100.
Gogi (http://www.scaliristorante.com/menu-1.html) - A delightful experience. Again, it’s great for a date or for family/friend outings. Expect to spend well over an hour, but to leave deeply satisfied and happy. You grill your own meat and veggies at the table, and this is slow food at its finest. Everything is seasoned beautifully, the sides and pickles are exceptional, and the soju/soju cocktails are a perfect pairing. The veggie tray for grilling seems to change according to what’s in season, but it always feels like they bring you a whole garden on a plate. Also, a veggie tray includes some fruits, like pineapple or orange, that you can grill and eat as a dessert.
El Pulgarcito (https://www.facebook.com/ElPulgarcitoLatin/) - Salvadoran food was completely unknown to me before this place came in. Holy mouthfuls of flavor, Batman. The papusas are a must, but don’t neglect the Salvadoran enchiladas (nothing like the Mexican food of the same name, but a flavor and texture masterpiece), Asado special, soups, pollo dorado, and torta. Basically, I’m telling you it will demand a few repeat visits for you to try all the things you need to try. They are also rocking the carryout service lately and are just about the nicest people you will ever meet.
La Michoacana Es tocumbo (https://www.facebook.com/lamichoacanaestocumbocolumbus/) - The underrated ice cream mecca. So many paleta and ice cream options, and sorbets for the vegan, fruit-loving, or lactose intolerant among us. Highly recommend the mangonadas, bionico (a big ass dish of fresh fruit swimming in a pool of cream, topped with whipped cream and whatever you want - I usually go with the granola), and horchata. They are so gracious to give samples and recommendations. Do not let your inability to speak Spanish put you off going - this is truly a place for everyone and you will feel welcome whether you are fluent, speak a few words, or none.
Huong (http://huongvr.blogspot.com/) - Whether you are playing it safe/familiar with pho and banh mi or branching out to try new and different things like green papaya salad, this place is great. I never struggle to find things to eat, and usually find myself grappling with a choice between 3-4 things that sound equally delightful. Prepare to walk away with a food baby, especially when you want a warm brothy noodle soup in chilly and rainy days
Kai’s (https://www.kaiscrabboil.com/menu/) - This place deserves the hype, plain and simple. I think one of the things that impress me the most is the freshness of the seafood. Whoever does their ordering does not play around - I have never had seafood there that tasted anything less than freshly caught, which is definitely not the norm in the Midwest. The spice blend is on point - that medium Kai’s Cajun is literally finger-licking good. I usually opt for cornbread on the side, corn, and sausage in my bag with some shrimps, crawfish, or crabs. I hesitate to admit I’d never eaten shrimp in the shell until I met my partner, and this place did a lot to tear down my fear of eating shrimp that still looks shrimpy (I fully concede that I am a flawed creature).
Tora (http://restauranttora.com/tora/) - Why is this place always fairly empty when we’re there? I mean, not that I want to not get a table, but people are sleeping on this place. If you don’t like sushi, their lunch/dinner boxes are fantastic. I especially love the tempura box. As for sushi, it is so good and much less expensive than a few other places in the Columbus circle. We had one of the most gluttonous meals of our lives here and spent only around $80 including a hearty tip. I was shocked.
NE Chinese (https://www.nechinese.com/) - I love eating in here, but the takeout game has been really strong lately as well. This is a region of China that is not particularly well represented in American Chinese restaurants, which means you may not find your go-to American Chinese order on the menu. That is a great thing! So many amazing dishes to try. We always try something different, but default to getting their eggplant in soybean paste and spicy potato salad as our sides. Our first time trying the eggplant was like that scene in Ratatouille with Anton Ego the food critic. Somehow, it tasted like home and happiness and joy, despite the fact that I’d never had it before, I am not even fractionally Chinese, and eggplant is not on frequent rotation in my cooking. Also, their hot pot is the jam - we particularly love the spare ribs stew with green beans and pancake (pancake in this instance meaning a giant steamed dumpling cake that fills the entire top of the pot), their shrimp dishes, and the fried cream custard buns.
Ichiban bakery (https://www.yelp.com/biz/ichiban-bakery-columbus) - The savory steamed buns. Need I say more? Last time we bought excess and ate them for the following 2 breakfasts. A-mazing. The price can't be beat, and even reheated they were exceptional. Still need to try their sweet offerings. Yes, that area is filled with endless joy (Belle’s bakery, Tensuke Market, Akai Hana, etc.), but Ichiban bakery is another place you must visit when in Kenny center.
Café Istanbul (https://www.cafeistanbulbexley.com/)- We like the location in Bexley best, although we’ve been to the Easton option a few times as well. Bexley has a seriously underrated patio, and in the Spring/Fall it is GORGEOUS. The whole fish and appetizer sampler are go-to’s here, but the eggplant dishes are all amazing, the kebabs are delectable, and we have heart eyes for the lahmacun (be advised this dish looks super different at Bexley and Easton locations). If you enjoy Mediterranean cuisine, Turkish cuisine is just another world, and you suddenly wish to travel to Turkey just for food.
Aab - (https://www.aabindiarestaurants.com/) A solid choice for Indian food. We’ve had lots of good experiences here, and have tried a good chunk of their menu. If you like to try different things, they have a lunch buffet every day for a really reasonable price. When we can dine in again, my first orders are going to be the Aab India Special (which comes on a metal tray reminiscent of the school cafeteria - I assure you the comparison stops at the plating) and gajar halwa for dessert.
Tip Top (http://tiptopcolumbus.com/) - I honestly don’t need to say any more than STROGANOFF, but I will anyway. Solid brunch offerings, of both the breakfast and lunch leanings. I’m a big fan of the feta spread, sweet potato fries, and sandwiches. They also serve a mean cocktail, and some of the cocktails are wicked cheap - many a night of graduate school frivolity was brought to life by their “Bottom’s Up.” What poor grad student can say no to a cocktail in a pint glass?
Block’s Bagels (http://www.blocksbagelsdeli.com/) - I frequent both the Bexley and Reynoldsburg locations, but it’s actually more of an endorsement to say that this is what my family 3 hours away asks me to bring when I journey home. My sister is particularly fond of the sun-dried tomato bagels, momma favors the honey whole wheat, and dad is a sucker for the wheat raisin. For me, I get the same order almost every time - a honey whole wheat bagel toasted with their homemade strawberry cream cheese, and, yes, I always get the pickle. Plus, their homemade cream cheeses are just on point.
Yes, we have been to more than these restaurants, but some places, like Dirty Franks and Tensuke Express, are more well known, and we would like to present places that are local and less known to people. As we are 'officially' moving to Gahanna at the end of this month, we would like to continue our adventure in Gahanna as well.
If you would like to, we want to listen to some local restaurants around Columbus that you love. We are always interested in trying more. Also, feel free to let us know if you ever visited the places above.
Lastly, if you are reading this sentence, thank you for reading this post!
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2020.05.27 02:29 strangebeets Lanc Food Map: Quarantine Roundup

Hey all! Today I finally had the time and the energy to make a long list of which restaurants are open and where you can go to order from them. It's far from comprehensive, but I've spent the past eight or so hours looking at close to 200 different websites to find information about each restaurant on my list. I'm content with what I came up with.
I seriously doubt I'll update this with any regularity, so I included links to whatever site each restaurant is using to keep people updated. Most of them have a reasonably obvious online ordering system, or some kind of COVID-19 notice, or they use Grubhub/DoorDash/UberEats/whatever. Some weren't very obvious and some were a little weird, so I included notes about them (looking at you, Ma(i)son).
If you see something that's incorrect, let me know! If you have any questions, let me know! I've been scouring websites all day, yet I'm sure I overlooked something. Also, to any restaurants still using facebook as their only website: why? It's 2020. There are a million easy website design platforms.
Here's a link to the Lancaster Food Map itself (unsurprisingly, not a whole lot has changed during Corona Times), and onward to the list!
Edit: added some places.

Places that are open for some kind of take out or delivery:


Places that are temporarily closed:


You made it to the end! There were a handful of restaurants that didn't have any clear information as to whether they're open or not, so I omitted them from this list.
submitted by strangebeets to lancaster [link] [comments]


2020.05.04 21:11 Fujiaman A SHORT NOTE ON THE ETHIOPIAN CHURCH MUSIC by Tadesse Tamrat

A SHORT NOTE ON THE ETHIOPIAN CHURCH MUSIC by Tadesse Tamrat

YARED (Saint), 505-571 AD, Axumite Empire.
The origins of the Ethiopian church music are still very obscure. Very little scholarly attention has been given to this aspect of Ethiopian Christian culture, and the huge compendium of the hymns known as Degwa still remains unedited and almost completely inaccessible except to some of the more studious functionaries of the church itself.
According to Ethiopian traditions, it was Yared, an Aksumite priest who lived in! the 6th c. A.D., who invented the three basic modes of the Ethiopian church music, namely Ge'ez, Ezl, and Araray. it is claimed that all musical notes, "even the sounds of animals and the songs of the birds, fall under one of these modes of Yared the Priest". Yared is said to have been supernaturally inspired in inventing his three modes which are believed to have been a special divine gift to Christian Ethiopia: "For God did not reveal [them] to others except to the people of Ethiopia." These traditions are accepted in Ethiopia as almost religious truths, which has apparently discouraged any attempts to look for a more historical origin of the Ethiopian church music.
The church in Aksum was established in the fourth century AD. as a small bishopric of the Patriarchate of Alexandria, and the Ethiopian church remained in this dependant status until about three decades ago. It is, therefore, Egypt that one must consider as the most important source of inspiration for the major aspects of Ethiopian Christian culture. As regards church music, it is interesting to note that there are distant echoes of Yared 's musical modes in the medieval records of the Coptic Church. Yared 's modes — Ge'ez, Ezl, and Araray ... are sung at particular types of religious ceremonies depending on whether these are sad or happy occasions in the calendar of the church. In the same way, the Copts also had different tunes that change according to the nature of their feasts and according to the time of the year. Their happy tunes were used for major festivals such as Christmas Day and Easter. The sad and melancholic tunes were sung in times of sorrow such as Passion week. They also had other sad tunes used for funeral services and commemorations. Although the technical terms for the modes or tunes, and the number of these tunes are different in the Ethiopian and Coptic churches, the liturgical purpose for which they are used seems to be the same. This may at least point to the same origin for both the Ethiopian and the Coptic church music.
Just like the Ethiopians, the Copts attribute the origin of their music to the divine inspiration of one of their holy men. This saintly man, they say, was originally a layman and a mere potter; and he invented their sacred music when he later joined the monastery of St. Macarius. Essentially, the same theme runs through the Ge'ez story of the life of Yared.
It is related that Yared was born of an ordinary family in Aksum and that he was not a particularly brilliant pupil in the local church school where he had difficulties in mastering the simple reading lessons. At one stage he gave up all ambitions of developing his ecclesiastical learning; got married and started a more or less secular life even planning, on one occasion, to kill a man who had coveted his beautiful wife! But he was gradually and irresistibly drawn towards the spiritual calling. He abandoned the world, withdrew into an isolated area as a hermit leaving his. family, and started a life of religious devotion and contemplation always trying to improve his literary accomplishments. One day, while wandering in a forest, he was greatly impressed by the persistence of a small insect trying to climb a tall tree. The little insect repeatedly fell to the ground; but it started climbing all over again, gradually attaining greater heights. If an insect could do this, Yared thought, a human being should achieve much more. This, he set out to do and began to bé inspired by the beauty of nature and the songs of the birds which became the bases for his poetic and musical compositions. Hence, we are told, the origins of the Ethiopian church music.
Thus, there are close similarities not only in the general significance of the different musical notes of the two churches but also in the details about the lives of the Ethiopian and Coptic clerics to whom the invention of the tunes is attributed. If this was a result of one church influencing the other, it seems almost certain that it was the traditions of the mother Alexandrian church which had a lasting impact on the formation of the Ethiopian tradition about Yared and his musical talents. Like the monastic traditions of the Ethiopian church which derive their origin from Egypt, the story of the life of Yared and his musical talents may have also been, essentially, another result of the close cultural interaction between Christian Egypt and Ethiopia.
All this seems to point to the same origin of the sacred music of the two churches. It is nevertheless apparent that the Ethiopian liturgical chant [Zema] became much more elaborate during the medieval period. At this stage of its cultural history, the Ethiopian church gradually developed a deep sense of self-identity, and there are a number of indications that show that the Alexandrian and the Ethiopian Churches were at variance on many points of religious practice. This became increasingly obvious after the Arab conquest of Egypt in 641 AD when the Copts were gradually required to cut down many of the public manifestations of their Christian worship, while the Ethiopians added further elaborations on theirs.
As a result of the growing pressures of Islam along the Red Sea coast after the seventh century, Aksum declined and its church became more and more isolated from the rest of the Christian world. Only a very slender line of communication was maintained with Egypt and the Holy Land along very precarious routes and through hostile territories. It is apparent that in this period the Holy Bible and particularly the Old Testament began to serve the Ethiopians as an inexhaustible source of cultural inspiration. Being the only Christian people in the Horn of Africa and surrounded by pagan or Muslim territories, the Christians of Ethiopia began to identify themselves with the chosen people of Isra'el.
This vital development was accompanied by a deliberate process of imitating and adopting the cultural and social institutions of the Old Testament. The highest form of expression for this religious and national tendency is the Kebre-Negest, the Ethiopie version of the legend of the Queen of Sheba. Written in the thirteenth century, the Kebre-Negest finally achieved identification of the Royal Family of Ethiopia with the House of kings Dawit and Solomon of Isra'el. The Kebre-Negest also created close ancestral relationships between Solomon's high priest Zadok and the priestly families of Ethiopia. From that time on, the kings of Ethiopia modeled their court on that of King Solomon of Israel, and the local saints posed as the veritable prophets of the Old Testament.
It is apparent that the characteristic forms of the Ethiopian church music as we know it today also took shape during the same period. There seems to be no doubt that some of the hymns of the Ethiopian church were already in use during the Aksumite period — even as early as the sixth century when Yared is said to have lived. Although Gedle Yared, the story of the life of Yared, is almost certainly a work of the 15th century, the traditions which it presents no doubt reflect developments since Aksumite times.
There are indications that, by the middle of the 14th century, one of the highest accomplishments among Christian Ethiopians was being well versed at "the songs of Yared." The chronicler of King Beide-Maryam (1468-78) also gives the impression that the Ethiopian Church music had already assumed some of its later characteristics by the middle of the 15th century. On one occasion he describes both secular and sacred musical performances in Angot, in the presence of the king:
መሰብአ አንጉት ኩሎሙ ምስለ አንስቲ ያሆሙ ተቀበልዎ በዘፈን ወበከበሮ:: ወደብተራ ብዙኃን በገቢረ ማህሌት እስከ ይደምፅ ጥቀ ቃላቲሆሙ:: All the people of Angot with their women welcomed him singing, dancing and beating the drum; and many dabtara performing mahlet until their voices could be heard far and wide.
Mahlet is the usual terminology used for the songs of Yared and the whole atmosphere described by the chronicler evokes images of the relatively modern forms of the musical performance in the Ethiopian Church.
It is, however, very difficult to follow up on the specific developments of the Ethiopian Church music because of the paucity of the relevant source material. None of the Degwa known so far can be dated earlier than the 14th or 15th centuries. The Degwa is a collection of Ge'ez hymns for all the days, feasts and seasons of the Ethiopian year. No extensive or critical study has been made of the text of the Degwa as yet. Only Dillmann has published a short extract in his well-known Chrestomaihia, Aethiopica, 1866. Cerulli has also translated four short hymns in his Storia délia letteratura etiopica, 1956. A few years later Velat has devoted a more intensive study of Me'eraf which is an important part of the Degwa.
Except for these isolated attempts, the Degwa still remains an untapped source which, if systematically studied, would no doubt shed a lot of light not only on the music and liturgy of the Ethiopian Church but also on the history of the Christian nation at large. But enough is known of the Degwa to indicate that it is not the work of one single individual or the product of a single period '. An early MS. of the fourteenth century without the simple Ethiopie notations (Meleket) is reported at the island monastery of Tana Qirqos. King Gelawdewos (1540-59) is said to have ordered two clerics of his court to systematize the collection and the notations of the Degwa. Two other revisions are also reported in the 17th century at the orders of Echege (Abbot) Qale-Awadi of DebreLibanos. Thus, in its present form, the Ethiopie Degwa is a cumulative product of many centuries.
A major aspect of the Ethiopian Church music is the ritual dance that always accompanies the liturgical chant. Monneret de Villard, a well-known student of Ethiopian Christian art and of the history of the Nile Valley, has suggested that the liturgical dance of the Ethiopians may have originated in ancient Egypt. There are indeed distant echoes of this ancient Egyptian interaction in the flowing gowns of the dabtara, their use of the sistrum, and even the long graceful prayer sticks which are all represented in the great monuments of the Nile Valley.
However, in its contemporary manifestations, a religious musical performance of the Ethiopian dabtara reflects yet another and a more recent layer of cultural interactions with the world of the Old Testament. The songs, the chants, and the ritual dance in front of the tabot are strongly reminiscent of the dancing and the merriment of the Lévites in front of the Ark of the Covenant (cf. 2 SAM. 6: 2-5). A casual look at the musical instruments used by the dabtara — who are sometimes explicitly called 'Lévites' — clearly shows that the Ethiopians have also drawn much inspiration from the Old Testament. The whole atmosphere created during a religious service in Ethiopia evokes the old biblical scene transmitted in the last chapter of the book of Psalms:-
"Praise Him with the sound of the trumpet; praise Him with psaltery and harp. Praise Him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals."
Nevertheless, like all other aspects of Ethiopian history and culture, it is impossible to get a complete picture of the evolution of these musical traditions in isolation of developments in neighboring regions. In the final analysis, it is only if we look at the Ethiopian Church music in comparison with ancient Egyptian, Near Eastern, Central Asian and even Indian traditions that we can get a more wholesome picture.
Source: see here
For more info, see St. Yared, the great Ethiopian composer.
Edit: Spelling error.
submitted by Fujiaman to EthiopianHistory [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 15:49 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Empire of the White Rasta's

📷
Empire of the White Rasta's
Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to malelifestyle [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 15:32 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Empire of the White Rasta's

📷
Empire of the White Rasta's
Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to enlightenment [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 15:18 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Empire of the White Rasta's

📷
Empire of the White Rasta's
Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to BlackReaders [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 14:46 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Empire of the White Rasta's

📷
Empire of the White Rasta's
Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to AfroConscious [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 14:40 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Empire of the White Rasta's

📷
Empire of the White Rasta's
Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to AfricanMusic [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 14:24 lovable-trash The Australian Library and Information Association looking for help translating!

Hi! I work at a US academic library and an interesting email is currently circulating looking for help.
Thought some multilingual Librarians may want to help!
So, if you are a fluent speaker and writer of another language, comment below with what language you are writing and the translations.

ALIA are providing support to libraries - particularly public libraries - in the form of communication resources for our multicultural communities.
We are looking to provide wording / signage that communicate the following phrases:
- 'For health reasons, the library building is closed until further notice.'
- 'For health reasons, the library building is closed until [date].'
- 'All programs and events have been cancelled.'
- 'Some programs and events have been cancelled.'
- 'Please see our Facebook page for more information.'
- 'Please see our website for more information and to use our online services.'
So far, we have translations in the following languages:
Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Greek, Croatian
This has been a wonderful start in gathering some translated messages for our libraries to use.The libraries that have contacted us are still interested in getting translations in the following languages:
Nepalese, Punjabi, Arabic, Ethiopian , Hindi, Farsi, Karen, Polish
However, we will collect any translations in any language, as we will make these resources available for all libraries to use for their signage and communications. So, the more languages, the better!
submitted by lovable-trash to librarians [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 13:17 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to god [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 13:08 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to midlifecrisis [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 12:57 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to MakeFriendsHere [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 12:52 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to MyTheoryIs [link] [comments]


2020.03.20 12:36 KingP103 EMPIRE OF THE WHITE RASTAS

Clive Uckfield © 20/12/19
I remember it was around the time I lost my parents that the first message came. It was midnight and I must have fallen asleep reading a paperback when I was woken by a ping from my mobile. My bedside lamp was still on and the book I had been reading lay open on the floor.
Instinctively I remember reaching out for my mobile , flicking the message up as my eyes adjusted to the light.The words read “We are the King of Kings, the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.. Shocked out of my sleep I can recall reading the text message over and over again. “We are the King of Kings , the Conquering Lion of the tribe of Judah, descendent of King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba”.
Stunned, I let go of my of my phone and reached down grabbing for the book which had fallen off my bed. Still half asleep it slipped out of my hands again, landing open at a photo of the last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie taken in the 1940s. His fine features and dignified pose impressing me. In the same way as his charisma had impressed World leaders, when he stood up to facism at the League of Nations after the Italian invasion.
Alarmingly, my phone started to ping again. That time I shot out of bed shaking with fear imagining I had been dreaming. Emotionally I had been all over the place. In fact, I felt as if my body had been paralysed with fright. You know, like seeing a ghost.
Reaching for my phone after that had been akin to picking up a red hot coal. But the second message had been more personal and comforting “do not be afraid, David, we are with you and through your voice the world will prepare for my return”.
To be honest at the time I began to think that perhaps this was some sort of sick joke from a colleague? Angrily, I remember messaging back. “Whoever you are get a life, this isn't funny”.
The next text had become more detailed and It was then that I finally realised that this was no joke “ David, do not fear for we are with you. We have chosen you to be my prophet, as my people will reject me. First of all forgiveness to the one who strangled me, an elderly man in my own bed. Then the restoration of our most valuable treasure . And finally, only then when the Meskel is truly celebrated in New York we will reveal myself to the world”.
After hearing that I can recall needing a drink! it was true I had studied the history of the Ethiopian Empire & the life of Selassie, the most recognised leader in African history. In truth, it was partly because of him that I became a journalist in the first place. But how could I accept that a dead man could be texting me in 2019!
You need to understand that I had been fascinated by the man for most of my life. The very night I had received the first text I had been reading about the Emperor's ordinary roots in a mud hut. To then being mysteriously chosen to lead this extraordinary nation for 60 years. A unique Empire in black Africa, which alone had remained free from the European powers for thousands of years.
But you know, the Emperor had been murdered in 1975? That was what was so incredible, I mean to believe that these texts were from a dead man who had never seen a computer! A man who had regularly visited US Presidents & World leaders. Telling me that he would return from the grave!
You can imagine now why I tried to find solace in alcohol. Yes I had also tried to make sense of what was happening by talking to my girlfriend Clara. But, as you can imagine, it wasn't long before she left me. Then one Monday morning I woke with a stinking headache. The Sun was shining through my half drawn curtains it was ten am London time! The phone was ringing. “ Why me, why” I found myself saying.
I will never forget that awkward silence at the end of the phone. It was my boss at the BBC, and he was not impressed! I think I explained about my parents & Clara , fighting back a combination of tears and exhaustion at the time. Finally I came away with an agreement to take a six month sabatical from my hectic role as a journalist.
After that, all I can remember is booking the first package holiday I could find. Flying from Heathrow I landed in Gibraltar the following night.
I am not sure why I headed to the beach under the light of the rock. But It was late and I had been hungry. Out at sea merchant ships were anchored for the night and I reminisced about my father who had been a radio officer in the merchant navy in the late sixties.
There was only one restaurant which was empty and the waiter obviously spoke little English. I did finally manage to order a steak. The manager was obviously a big Bob Marley fan for one of his albums played continuously in the background during the next few nights I visited.
One song though that really spoke to me from the album was the Rastafarian folk record‘ redemption song’ the words revealing a spiritual meaning each time it was played. Gradually, I began to write them down. ‘
Old Pirates yes they rob I.
Sold I to the merchant ships.
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong.
By the hand of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing.
These songs of freedom.
Cause all I ever had
Redemption song.
I can recall that it was only then that my eyes were opened to the truth. Haile Selassies pre coronation name had been Ras (King) Tafari (name) or Rastafari which was where the Rastafarians or Rastas devolved their name. It was that night that I finally realised who the Emperor really was. And that I had been chosen to create a movement which social media were to mockingly label the ‘Empire of the White Rastas’.
This was why he had been trying to speak to me. It was then that I was able to surrender my will and accept the mission that he had prepared me for. In truth I felt humbled that I had been chosen. Using the Royal 'We’ which he always used when referring to himself the Emperor's wise words and fatherly voice had begun to enchant me.
Like the many students he had sent abroad to study, I felt he was preparing me for something special something huge. Yes, I was overwhelmed yet happy holding such a secret purpose.
The next message led me to Zimbabwe. Being an international journalist I had contacts in the area and the recent sale of my parent's former home enabled me to fund both my movements alongside my sabbatical.
Mengistu, had not been hard to find despite killing almost a million of his own people including the Emperor during the decades of his evil Marxist dictatorship. It wasn't long before I found that he was living in luxury in a suburb of the capital.
I arranged to meet him under false pretences using my BBC journalist ID. Entering his mansion it was hard to imagine how this man had ever called himself a marxist. As the opulence around him was pure hypocrisy given his Marxist beliefs. Quickly I had passed him a hand written message which His Majesty had texted me in Amharic. Mengistu had looked bewildered and his guards were soon supporting him into a chair.
A long silence had then entailed between us before he was able to speak. I told him the truth as I am telling you now as he continued to mumble “ how?” Eventually he regained his feet and disappeared into a back room. Appearing soon with an ancient book which he reluctantly handed to me before abruptly asking me to leave.
Outside in the taxi I opened the clip on the heavy book. To my surprise the book was actually hollowed out inside. Within this secret compartment was the key to this story. The Emperor had spoken of a hidden treasure which I had imagined to be financial. To my astonishment the book had revealed only a small package containing just a tiny piece of wood encrusted in a glass case.
I have to confess that the remainder of the trip had felt like a bit of an anti climax. How could this hold any key to the future? I remember thinking.
Strangely my mobile signal failed me for a few days and I decided off my own back to visit Ethiopia. Messaging ahead through social media I found myself creating an uproar in Addis Ababa the ancient capital of Ethiopia.
My vivid memory is of flying in over a beautiful mountain range as I approached Addis Ababa, to be disappointed by a welcome of just a dozen supporters and a much larger crowd of protesters. Soon we were heading with banners to the Jubilee Palace built by Selassie in the mid 50s.
The city was now modern and the population aggressive towards the large photos of Selassie we carried. I remember being shocked by the contrast with the images from YouTube of the Emperor in the 1960s driving past hundreds of prostrated subjects in his maroon Rolls Royce. To be greeted at the grounds of his Jubilee palace by his pet Lions and cheaters. Years of Marxist indoctrination had taken its toll.
Instead the day I arrived my social media announcement had backfired. And to my horror we were welcomed at the Palace by local officials and Police. It was a huge humiliation and I could only reflect on the thoughts of the Emperor after he was forced into a VW Beetle and removed from office. Like him I had been rejected.
When I finally began to receive my texts again, His Majesty sounded disappointed. “it was never my will for you to enter Addis Ababa for it was there that my people rejected me. Even that was not enough for them , my very blood was spilt and my bones broken in order to eradicate my memory. Yes, I may have come at the wrong time but I am going to change the time”.
It had all felt too much and tearfully I asked for his forgiveness and trust. His reply had been long and detailed but left me under a direct order to take his message to the capital of the modern World New York.
There was no time to lose , placing adverts ahead in all of New York’s papers, I was determined not to fail this time. Incredibly within days I had gathered a movement together of several thousand New Yorkers and I had not even set foot in the City yet! Even the dreaded social media showed a surprising interest. Their derogatory labeling giving me an almost celebrity status in the big Apple. The ‘ Empire of the White Rastas' had been born.
My instructions from the Emperor had now gathered a greater momentum. Bordering the plane for New York I felt an excitement which I had not known since Christmases as a child. A feeling of expectation and purpose which had eluded me for many years.
I found myself seated next to a most stunning African beauty. Liya was a young Ethiopian of Royal lineage. She had heard of my mission and was intrigued by the messages. Our meeting was to be more significant than I could ever imagine. During the long flight she was able to share her knowledge of Ethiopian religion and history with me in a way no book could ever do. I was especially captivated by her explanation of the 'Meskel’ the ancient ceremony of the true cross celebrated by Ethiopians all over the world in the form of a bonfire, and previously by the Emperor in Meskel Square Addis Ababa.
Astonishingly it was only then that it dawned on me what I had been given by Mengistu .The hidden treasure that the Emperor had disclosed was indeed something beyond any fortune he could have given away. It was in fact the remains of the Cross of Christ!
Carefully and with some discretion I retrieved the book within my holdall. Beautiful liya was asleep and I had not revealed my visit to Mengistu. After all I was in enough trouble with the authorities.
Inside the box encapsulated within a glass case was a tiny fragment of wood. Secretly, I held it within my hands, my heart pounding at the realisation of what was unravelling around me. History itself seemed to be in my hands. Me an ordinary guy from London and a journalist from an organisation that had helped bring Selassie down.
I cannot be sure but as I was returning the box I became aware that I was being watched. Startled, I looked quickly to my left where liya seemed to be stirring. Had she seen the box? I could not be sure , who was she anyway? Was it just a consequence that she had ended up next to me on the plane or could it be ..
The captain then made an announcement asking us to fasten seatbelts, for New York was on the horizon. The next few hours seemed to last a lifetime.
As my taxi drew outside the Ritz-Carlton opposite central park I recall feeling overwhelmed both at the size of the place but also my task ahead. Journalists had already got wind of my arrival as my adverts had been running for almost a week. Fighting back tiredness I gave an impromptu speech. Supporters flocked around me in the hotel lobby eager to gain from me a time and date for the Emperor's return. I remember starting to feel a little dizzy when out of the blue Liya appeared from nowhere. Clasping my hand firmly she led me up into a lift and finally into my suite.
Any apprehensions I had felt about her instantly disappeared and I was eternally grateful for her presence. Having settled me in with a drink she disclosed some disappointing news. I had been banned from attending the New York Meskel.
At first it had been hard to take in, after all this had been central to my mission. Feeling again dizzy Liya helped me into my bed her gentle words soothing away the shock. I cannot recall very much accept from a passionate kiss she gave me on the lips before I slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke it was evening and my head was in pain. When I tried to stand my body swayed and I knew instinctively that I had been drugged. My first thoughts were why was my baggage open on the floor. I grabbed for my holdall only to find to my horror that the Cross box had been taken.
Liya, liya it had to be liya! It was only then that I became aware of weeping in the lounge next to my bedroom. I had hired a suite which contained a set of rooms. On the sofa sat Liya curled up in a ball.
The conversation that followed was to shock me beyond anything I had experienced so far. Liya was in the paid employment of the Ethiopian secret service. She had been observing me since my meeting with Mengistu and I had been branded a danger to the current government. Incredibly though she had grown to like me very much and her former Royal lineage lent her a natural sympathy to my cause.
As we embraced I began to understand something of the danger that we were in. Agents would be arriving later tonight to retrieve the only remaining piece of the true cross which had been stolen by Mengistu from the Emperor while he was pleading for his life.
Liya was willing to risk her life for him. If the messages were true then a Meskel must be held over the site of the true cross in order for His Majesty to return. This would hale a Golden age for the World a New order of peace and prosperity.
There was only one thing for it Liya would need to hide the cross box somewhere until it was safe to return. It was she that came up with a plan to bury the cross box in central park. After all I had been banned from attending the Meskel being celebrated soon by the exiled Ethiopia community because the Ethiopian Government had got to the organisers.
We kissed again , the night would have been almost romantic if it it not been so terrifying. Outside on the balcony darkness was falling and everywhere the lights of the city glowed like stars.
In the distance I could make out the shadow of Liya entering the park. Then after what seemed to be an eternity I was relieved to see her quickly emerge. She looked up and waved and nodded to me , confirming that her task was completed. That was the last time I saw her alive.
After waiting for some time, I headed back down into the hotel lobby. One of the lifts had been jammed open and to my horror I could see Liya’s legs laying across the lobby surrounded by medics.
In truth I panicked after that , for it was certain that they would come after me. I quickly went into hiding.
Knowing that they could trace me through my mobile I consulted the Emperor. His reply was painful, I should not have not involved myself with Liya for this had been my mistake. I knew now that I must decrease so that he could increase. I threw my phone into the river having taken down the Emperor's last message.
Writing down this story today in New York central library I have mailed it using the cash I had left to an obscure address in Lincolnshire UK knowing that His Majesty was about to make contact with another of his subjects. My only instruction was that he should email the story to the New Yorker magazine and await the Emperor's messages.
This is our only hope of saving the World. For Rastafari must return for all people. And this story has to be published or my sacrifice will be in vain. For soon I will hand myself in. They will blame me for Liyas death and place me in a padded cell for my own protection.
They will think they have silenced me. That they have prevented his return. I pray you will know otherwise...
submitted by KingP103 to rastafari [link] [comments]


2020.03.14 09:53 ajlee2006 List of Instagram business categories

Academic Camp
Accessories
Accountant
Actor
Acupuncturist
Addiction Resources Center
Addiction Service
Addiction Treatment Center
Adult Entertainment Service
Advertising Agency
Advertising/Marketing
Aerospace Company
African Restaurant
Agricultural Cooperative
Agricultural Service
Agriculture
Airline Company
Airline Industry Service
Airport
Airport Shuttle Service
Album
Allergist
Alternative & Holistic Health Service
Amateur Photographer
Amateur Sports Team
American Restaurant
Amphitheater
Amusement & Theme Park
Animal Shelter
Antique Store
Apartment & Condo Building
Apostolic Church
App Page
Apparel & Clothing
Apparel Distributor
Appliance Manufacturer
Appliance Repair Service
Appliances
Aquarium
Aquatic Pet Store
Arabian Restaurant
Arboretum
Arcade
Architect
Architectural Designer
Architectural Engineer
Architectural Tour Agency
Argentinian Restaurant
Aromatherapy Service
Art
Art Gallery
Art Museum
Art Restoration Service
Art School
Art Tour Agency
Artist
Arts & Crafts Store
Arts & Entertainment
Arts & Humanities Website
Asian Fusion Restaurant
Asian Restaurant
Assemblies Of God
Astrologist
Astrologist & Psychic
Athlete
Atv Recreation Park
Auction House
Audio Visual Equipment Store
Audiologist
Auditorium
Australian Restaurant
Author
Auto Detailing Service
Automated Teller Machine (Atm)
Automation Service
Automotive Body Shop
Automotive Consultant
Automotive Customization Shop
Automotive Dealership
Automotive Glass Service
Automotive Leasing Service
Automotive Manufacturer
Automotive Parts Store
Automotive Repair Shop
Automotive Restoration Service
Automotive Service
Automotive Store
Automotive Window Tinting Service
Automotive, Aircraft & Boat
Aviation School
Awning Supplier
Baby & Children's Clothing Store
Baby Goods/Kids Goods
Babysitter
Bags & Luggage Company
Bags & Luggage Store
Bags/Luggage
Bail Bondsmen
Bakery
Band
Bank
Bankruptcy Lawyer
Bar
Bar & Grill
Barbecue Restaurant
Barber Shop
Bartending Service
Beach
Beach Resort
Beauty Salon
Beauty Store
Beauty Supplier
Beauty Supply Store
Beauty, Cosmetic & Personal Care
Bed And Breakfast
Beer Bar
Beer Garden
Belgian Restaurant
Bicycle Repair Service
Bicycle Shop
Big Box Retailer
Bike Rental
Biotechnology Company
Blinds & Curtains Store
Blogger
Board Game
Boat / Sailing Instructor
Boat Dealership
Boat Rental
Boat Service
Boat Tour Agency
Boat/Ferry Company
Book
Book & Magazine Distributor
Book Series
Bookstore
Borough
Botanical Garden
Bottled Water Company
Bottled Water Supplier
Boutique Store
Bowling Alley
Boxing Studio
Brand
Brand Agency
Brazilian Restaurant
Breakfast & Brunch Restaurant
Brewery
Bridal Shop
Bridge
British Restaurant
Broadcasting & Media Production Company
Brokerage Firm
Bubble Tea Shop
Buffet Restaurant
Building Material Store
Building Materials
Burger Restaurant
Bus Line
Bus Tour Agency
Business
Business & Economy Website
Business Center
Business Consultant
Business Service
Business Supply Service
Businesses
Butcher Shop
Cabin
Cabinet & Countertop Store
Cable & Satellite Company
Cafe
Cafeteria
Camera Store
Camera/Photo
Campground
Campus Building
Canadian Restaurant
Candy Store
Canoe & Kayak Rental
Cantonese Restaurant
Car Dealership
Car Rental
Car Wash
Career Counselor
Cargo & Freight Company
Caribbean Restaurant
Carnival Supply Store
Carpenter
Carpet & Flooring Store
Cars
Cash Advance Service
Casino
Casino & Gaming
Castle
Caterer
Cause
Cave
Cemetery
Champagne Bar
Charity Organization
Charter Bus Service
Cheese Shop
Chef
Chemical Company
Chicken Joint
Child Care Service
Child Protective Service
Chimney Sweeper
Chinese Restaurant
Chiropractor
Chocolate Shop
Choir
Christian Church
Church
Church Of Christ
Church Of God
Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter-Day Saints
Circus
City
City Infrastructure
Cleaning Service
Clothing (Brand)
Clothing Company
Clothing Store
Coach
Cocktail Bar
Coffee Shop
Collectibles Store
College & University
Colombian Restaurant
Comedian
Comedy Club
Comfort Food Restaurant
Comic Bookstore
Commercial & Industrial
Commercial & Industrial Equipment Supplier
Commercial Bank
Commercial Equipment
Commercial Real Estate Agency
Community
Community Center
Community College
Community Museum
Community Organization
Community Service
Company
Competition
Computer Company
Computer Repair Service
Computer Store
Computer Training School
Computers & Internet Website
Computers (Brand)
Concert Tour
Concrete Contractor
Construction Company
Consulate & Embassy
Consulting Agency
Contemporary Art Museum
Continental Restaurant
Contractor
Convenience Store
Convent & Monastery
Convention Center
Cooking School
Copywriting Service
Corporate Lawyer
Corporate Office
Cosmetic Dentist
Cosmetics Store
Cosmetology School
Costume Shop
Cottage
Counselor
Country
Country Club / Clubhouse
Credit Counseling Service
Cricket Ground
Criminal Lawyer
Cruise Agency
Cruise Line
Cultural Center
Cultural Gifts Store
Cupcake Shop
Currency Exchange
Dairy Farm
Damage Restoration Service
Dance & Night Club
Dance School
Dance Studio
Dancer
Dating Service
Day Care
Day Spa
Deck & Patio Builder
Defense Company
Deli
Demolition & Excavation Company
Dentist & Dental Office
Department Store
Dermatologist
Design & Fashion
Designer
Dessert Shop
Digital Creator
Dim Sum Restaurant
Diner
Disc Golf Course
Discount Store
Distillery
Dive Bar
Diving Spot
Divorce & Family Lawyer
Dj
Doctor
Dog Day Care Center
Dog Park
Dog Trainer
Dog Walker
Dominican Restaurant
Donut Shop
Drafting Service
Drink
Drive-In Movie Theater
Driving School
Drug Addiction Treatment Center
Dry Cleaner
Dui Lawyer
E-Cigarette Store
Eco Tour Agency
E-Commerce Website
Editor
Education
Education Company
Education Website
Educational Consultant
Educational Research Center
Educational Supply Store
Electrician
Electronics
Electronics Company
Electronics Store
Elementary School
Elevator Service
Emergency Rescue Service
Employment Agency
Energy Company
Engineering Service
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submitted by ajlee2006 to copypasta [link] [comments]


2020.03.10 11:45 Fwoggie2 Covid-19 update Tuesday March 10th

Good morning from the UK.

Virus statistics

Region Today Yesterday % Change
Global 113,672 101,923 +11.5%
China 80,924 80,565 +0.4%
Italy 9,172 7,375 +24.4%
South Korea 7,513 7,382 +1.8%
Iran 7,161 6,566 +9.1%
France 1,412 1,116 +26.5%
Germany 1,139 902 +26.3%
USA 755 547 +38.0%
Spain 1,024 589 +73.9%
Japan 514 488 +5.3%
Switzerland 332 332 No change
UK 323 277 +16.6%
Netherlands 321 265 +21.1%

Countries with under 250 identified infections not listed. Total countries infected worldwide = 110, an increase from yesterday of 6. Source: The WHO dashboard (Link), except for USA where I'm using the John Hopkins University dashboard (Link). Given Italy had 647 cases only 11 days ago and now has over 1,000% that number (archive.is source), it's reasonable to expect quarantines to one degree or another to come into place in a week or two for any country currently over 250.
Reminder, these are identified case counts and medical experts are reporting this virus has a long incubation period with people being infections despite displaying no symptoms; the true infection figures are likely to be much higher.

Virus reaction

Italy quarantines itself - As many will already know, the Italian Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte ordered the shutdown of the whole of Italy (Guardian: Link) late yesterday (Monday). “There is no more time. I will take responsibility for these measures. Our future is in our hands,” he told reporters. In Italy under the decree, all public events will be banned, cinemas, theatres, gyms, discos and pubs closed, and funerals, weddings and sporting events cancelled – including Serie A matches (the highest football/soccer league in the country). All schools and universities will remain closed until 3 April. Under the new decree, people will only be able to travel between cities for emergency reasons and can face fines and up to three months in jail for breaking quarantine rules. Checkpoints on motorways, toll booths, train stations and airports are expected to be introduced on Tuesday. Those who have to leave their region or their cities out of serious necessity can do so only if they have self-certification stating that they must cross the borders for compelling business reasons, health reasons, or because they have to return home. The Guardian points out in its live blog (Link) that the quarantine measures do appear to be working; infection rates are dropping in the eleven towns that were already quarantined more than two weeks ago. (Personal note: I checked FedEx, DHL and UPS service alerts for Italy; FedEx and DHL still aren't delivering to the 11 quarantined towns but say nothing for the rest of Italy, UPS says it's operating in Italy as normal).

Social media thoughts on Italy's battle with the virus - two threads have gone viral in the past 24 hours (neither can be corroborated but they seem reasonably believable to me). The first from an epidemiologist repeats the thoughts of a doctor working in a badly affected Italian hospital - the ER is becoming overwhelmed, everyone is being admitted for the same reason, all beds are full and staff are badly fatigued. You can read it here, she provided a follow up link at the bottom. The other is reporting on what his friend in Italy's medical system says and it's much the same thing - there is not enough equipment to meet the surge in demand, staff are becoming overwhelmed and those over 65 are not even being assessed and nobody is available to help them if they arrest (that link is here) - I assume they mean they are being forced to let the patient die because they are overwhelmed with other patients who are better placed to survive.

Is this a pandemic or not - Vox has written an interesting article on why the WHO still hasn't called it a Pandemic despite senior politicians in several countries doing just that. The reason - it's political (link).

Family of Missouri's first coronavirus patient broke self-quarantine, attended school dance - Fox News reports that the father of the first patient disobeyed self-quarantine rules and went to a school dance with his other daughter. Villa Duchesne and Oak Hill School will close on Monday; Villa is an all-girls school that serves grades seven through 12, while Oak Hill is a coed school that teaches preschool through grade six.

UAE bans all cruise ship visits until further notice - Splash247 reports that the Federal Transport Authority of the United Arab Emirates has decided to suspend all cruise operations at the country’s ports as part of precautionary measures to prevent the spreading of coronavirus. Ferry services to Iran were already suspended last month.

Other virus reactions in brief - Sources Guardian live blog (linked above) and Al-Jazeera live blog (link)
- The president of the European parliament announced he will self isolate for the next two weeks and work from home after visiting Italy over last weekend
- Poland has cancelled all mass public gatherings
- Pope Francis has urged priests to have the courage to go out and visit the sick and elderly
- Greek MPs are warning the health system on the island of Lesbos (which is host to 27,000 migrants and refugees is becoming overwhelmed and needs urgent help)
- Moldova is banning entrants via air from any country recording infections. Separately, Morocco has cancelled all flights to Italy as has the major European airline Norwegian airlines. Australian airline Qantas has grounded eight of its 10 A380 planes and is rerouting flights as it grapples with a sharp drop in demand; it's suspending 25% of its flights worldwide.
- The French culture minister has contracted the virus and is self isolating
- The UK's deputy chief medial officer has being doing the media tour this morning; she told Sky News that many thousands will become infected in the UK with mortality rates initially rising before falling again
- The Grand Princess cruise ship has finally docked in San Francisco with 21 cases onboard. Canada and the UK have said they will fly their citizens home; US citizens will be taken to military bases for 2 weeks quarantine.
- For the 3rd day in a row no local transmissions of the virus have been recorded in China outside of Hubei province
- China's President Xi has visited Wuhan for the first time since the outbreak started in a move widely seen as authorities feeling that the tide is turning in the fight against the virus.
- In Singapore non residents will now have to pay for healthcare if they are admitted to hospital with the Coronavirus (previously it was free). The government added that testing of foreign visitors will remain free.
- The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, Wellcome and Mastercard pledged $125m to support the development of treatments for the coronavirus.
- Mongolia has quarantined all of its major cities after it discovered its first case.
- US forces in South Korea and Japan have been confined to their bases (source: NPR.org, link)

Economics

What are people panic buying - Strategyonline.ca reports has the answer (link), at least for Canadian consumers. Apart from the obvious sanitisers and masks, other products include cough and herbal remedies, baby products, dried food and deodorant with demand for oat milk nearly having tripled.

Virus Makes Lobsters So Cheap That Sellers Face a Fatal Blow - Supplychainbrain reports (link) that U.S. lobster prices have plummeted to the lowest in at least four years after the spread of the virus halted charter flights to Asia at a time when sales usually boom for Chinese New Year celebrations. The fallout has left thousands of pounds of unsold lobster flooding North American markets and squeezing U.S. businesses that were already hurting from lost sales due to China’s tariffs from its trade war with Washington. “This is like a fatal blow,” said Stephanie Nadeau, owner of Arundel, Maine-based The Lobster Co., which saw orders to Hong Kong shrivel from about 1,000 boxes a week to a total of 120 boxes -- each carrying 33 pounds -- since late January. “I’m about to lay off most of my employees.” The article goes on to discuss similar impacts hitting Canada, Australia and New Zealand lobster fisheries.

Supply chain

COVID-19 swallows $400 million revenue of African airlines - logupdateafrica.com says (link) the major African airlines have to date suffered $400m USD of revenue losses due to a collapse in demand. Several African airlines such as South African Airways, Royal Air Maroc, Air Tanzania, Air Mauritius, EgyptAir, RwandAir and Kenya Airways have suspended flights to and from China. Meanwhile, Ethiopian Airlines is still operating flights to and from five cities in China. Losses are expected to rise further.

Carriers eye empty passenger services to keep intra-Asia air cargo moving - The Loadstar says that Cathay Pacific (the major HK based airline) is thinking of using some passenger aircraft for cargo only flights to keep cargo moving around Asia. “Although we expect our passenger belly cargo operations to be impacted, we are evaluating how to continue serving our cargo customers to and from Japan,” Cathay said. “This includes the retention of certain passenger services for cargo carriage only.” The article goes on to quote a CEO of a large logistics firm: “We suggest customers consider ocean freight, rail freight, sea-air freight and even road freight, such as China-ASEAN cross-border trucks to diversify the risk. It is anticipated that surging demand of rail freight will also drive rate increases. In the meantime, more and more charter flight services will be launched in the market to soften demand”.

U.S. Exempts Face Masks, Medical Products From China Tariffs - Supplychainbrain.com reports that the US administration has lifted tariffs on face masks and medical products. One manufacturer is quoted as saying that the global production of the product is significantly limited to China, and changing to U.S. or third-country manufacturers “is not practical or competitive." "Additional duties on such products would cause major financial harm and increase costs to healthcare providers and their customers in the United States,” the company added.

iPhone 11 shortages in the US - the German tech website heise.de is reporting (link, in German) that in parts of the USA stocks of iPhone 11 models have run out and there is no sign of a resupply. It notes that the manufacturer FoxConn is struggling with its factories at an estimated 50% operational capacity. For the time being, availability in Germany remains good.

Israel: Courtesy of the Coronavirus, That Order From Amazon Could Take a Month to Reach Your Front Door - the major newspaper Haaretz has warned that if flights inbound from the US stop, it may take up to a month for Amazon orders to arrive - already AliExpress orders have plummeted in Israel as suppliers have struggled to ship out of Israel. Some e-commerce firms are countering by using connecting flights if direct ones have been cancelled. “In the worst case, and we’re closed to the U.S., they’ll be a real pogrom for the delivery sector. It means that deliveries won’t go out at all and there will be real shortages of merchandise,” one courier manager said. “The logistics universe comprises of lots of intermediate stops, The expectation now is that every link will be affected. If people are in lockdown, it means warehouse workers, delivery people and customs inspectors – everyone who comes into contact with the package, and that’s scores of hands until it reaches the customer.” He said he expected that to happen in weeks, maybe days, as the coronavirus, spreads to countries that are relevant to the supply chain that serve Israel such as Britain, Germany and the U.S.

Major UK supermarket chains now rationing sales for some products due to heavy demand - the BBC reports that Tesco and some other supermarket chains are now rationing sales of certain products both online and in store including antibacterial gels, wipes and sprays, dry pasta, UHT milk and some tinned vegetables. According to a survey from Retail Economics, as many as one in 10 UK consumers is stockpiling, based on a sample of 2,000 shoppers.

Good news section

Major UK automotive company Jaguar Land Rover says its supply chain is holding up - having hit the headlines a few weeks ago for flying in suitcases of key fobs, logisticsmanager.com reports that the automotive firm is saying its supply chain is holding up with most of its suppliers back online. JLR said it has visibility of availability of most parts out two weeks or more and had managed to avoid potential parts shortages by working closely with its suppliers and with some increased use of air freight. In the event of specific parts shortages, it warned, JLR would ordinarily be able to still build cars and retrofit missing parts when available, however, it said it could not rule out the risk that a shortage of a critical component could impact production at some point.
EDIT: Table formatting
EDIT 2: Lesbos isn't in Italy
submitted by Fwoggie2 to supplychain [link] [comments]


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