Chapter 9: 2020 – The Year I was mistaken for The AIRBENDER #WeatherTalk

4 months ago

I was staring at these Jamaican “human beings” through the lens of my anger and could only think: “they are just screaming for a visa; they will be fine.” You do not want to live in a world where people are watching the weather forecast with ill intentions because the justice system is deaf.

Preview: Chapter 9

Listen! You have not experienced real power until you step into your workplace and everyone, from cleaning staff to the owners of squeaky instruction voices in management, try to act like it is just another day in the office. If I were a lion, I would describe these days as “smelling the sweat and fear before someone literally runs away”. I should be given an award – even if only for my ability to act like I am not noticing it all. The day prior to what I will forever call “my lion mode” days, I posted a “special delivery” song on social media. It fit perfectly, word for word, with how I felt about a situationship, between me and a loud allegation made about my private businesses. How can I get robbed of my prize for not bursting out laughing at work, every time a co-worker was staring at me while trying not to be caught staring?

The hurricane Eta did exactly what I needed it to do, blew exactly where I needed it to blow and when I asked it to flow. Thank you, Lord! If you ask me, I had been asking for it for a while. I had betted on Hurricane Sally, since the 14th of September but it lost its steam, not even looking in the direction of the “Lawless and Disorderly” voices from Miami. I was so ready for that hurricane… But I guess I was being taught patience by the one above while being served humble pie by the ones below. Then, finally, my brewing feelings were rewarded with another “developing, developing” hurricane, two months later. It was supposed to be a category five, as far as I was concerned, but ended up as a flooding “watta”. The results of the last American election were being announced. Donald Trump, the man who does not play games to satisfy other people’s interests (or at least is very good at not appearing like yet another Commander in Filth), will not be the next President of the United States. Compared to the very eloquent, skin colour friendly, swag extraordinaire Barrack Obama, Donald Trump felt like the safer President of the United States.

His foreign policies, hands-on methods of addressing his country’s issues like a networking man, and running of its economy like a businessman were, for me, the equivalent of Super Obama’s ways, after his election in the middle of a market crash in 2008. One was the Beyoncé of Politics, capable of engaging even the people who never cared about their freedom or liberties when the first black US president was signing them away, generously. The other one was the Beyoncé of the Media, washing away everyone’s past racist sins just by the power of online high-five jokes or cheesy photo-op. Both were excellent in steering emotions and feelings, after years of politics being criticised from the outside looking in.
My faith in Donald Trump was based on his famous motto: drain the swamp. I was hoping to see sensible actions being taken against the Wild Wild West forums, facilitated by social media platforms, not connecting with legal obligations to accountability arising due to their huge popularity. Where does one start involving the law, when you have just won the popularity contest and you can sway a large audience into believing whatever, whenever you are fake trending anything, coordinating a real “big bang” on someone else’s door, or leading a sample of nearby people to a fleeting case to confirm that your online storytelling is real enough to speak for any online narrative!
Eta was offended with me. And I was dancing to the tune of this “special delivery” song while appreciating its lyrics, following the rule of engagement with the Universe: never miscommunicate. I was clear. Eta was clear. We had a high-five moment.

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BY: Sylvaine FRANCIS 
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