BRONCOS VOICE
JANUARY 12, vrrt
Arts & Entertainment
The Truth will make you free, Sometimes
ByAdario Strange
Courtesy of Source Magazine
Wow! Not an understatement
by any stretch of the imagina
tion, “wow” just about sums
up the impact of myriad events
of ‘96. It was a year of pro
found change for the Hip-Hop
Nation as well as the world-
at-large. More importantly, it
turned out to be true and rev
elation that took center stage.
The truth came to the fore as
conservative candidate Bob
Dole fell to an overwhelming
defeat at the hands of newly
re-elected President Bill
Clinton. Revelation swept the
poverty-torn streets of
America as millions of have-
nots realized that these days,
based on the candidates’ po
litical platform, there is very
little difference between Re
publican and Democrat.
The truth did a James Brown
slide out of the government’s
dark and musty closet as The
San Jose Mercury News broke
a story that revealed the CIA’s
alleged ties to the distribution
of cack in America. Revela
tion smacked the s*** out of
numerous skeptics who had
written-off as inane con
spiracy theories the scholars,
political scientists and activists
who’d professed the
government’s guilt all along.
Corporate America was forced
to take the truth serum as it
was revealed that top level
Texaco executives engaged in
racist business practices. Less
shocking was the revelation
that even in 1996, Texaco was
probably not alone in its racial
politics.
The truth surrounding the
meaning of TuPac’s death and
individual behind it still re
mains to be seem. The star
tling revelation cane in the
form of numerous hypocritical
TuPac critics switching sides
and giving him love after his
death, suddenly finding the
religion of forgiveness and un
derstanding after the indi
vidual passed.
The truth of
East Coast/
West Coast’s
trivial place in
history reared
its conflicted
head when the
music and
rhyme style
on Ice Cube’s
W e s t s i d e
Connection
album actu
ally overshad
owed “East Coast is wack
content. The revelation; good
music resides on no particular
coast in the world.
Often, the bitter pill of the
truth must be swallowed at the
very worst moments in our
lives. This was the case for two
winner turned unwitting un
derdogs in the forms of Mike
Tyson and Suge Knight. Con
fident and imposing Tyson met
Evander Holyfield in a cham
pionship boxing match that
had Tyson as much as a 25 to
1 favorite to win. In an historic
upset, Tyson closed the night
on his knees...humbled. The
revelation felt by all the
Tyson= “gangsta rap bad guy”
vs. Holyfield=”Black holy
boy” commentators, is that
despite all the negative boos
and hisses leveled at Tyson
during the fight, and leveled at
Tyson during the fight and de
spite the questions surround
ing his “lack of heart” or
in front of the cameras of the
world and humbly, almost
courageously, accepted defeat
like a gentleman.
Suge Knight’s icy gaze was
forced to look into the stolid
eyes of the truth that stared at
him even as he was escorted
into a Los Angeles jail cell,
serving time for a parole vio
lation. Shackled and dressed
in jailhouse blues, Suge ap
peared on ABC’s Primetime
Live and defended his lifestyle
and his life. With incriminat
ing interviews with Vanilla Ice
and Jerry Heller in tow, Suge
was asked in front of the world
to account for what Ice and
Heller described as his bent
toward violent gangster busi
ness tactics. With a slight
sheen of sweat covering his
bald head, Knight, facing
years in prison, laughed the al
legations off as untrue. The
revelation: someone isn’t tell
ing the
truth about
a lot of
things, and
when the
truth is
K!kealad.\4Tav!
The lighter
side of re
ality came
sashaying
into our
bedrooms
in the form
of soul
music’s resurgence courtesy of
D’Angleo, Tony Toni Tone,
Jamiroquai and Erykah Badu.
That we allowed people to diss
the soul and disco music of the
late ‘70 and early ‘80s is a rev
elation of error many of us had
a long time ago.
Hip-hop music’s reality check
is still on artificial respiration
and hasn’t been able to keep
down any solid food. Musically
and lyrically rich records like
Money B and Digital Under
ground, Illadelphalflife by The
Roots, and Soul On Ice by Ras
Kass are continuing to be ig
nored. Thankfully, the perfor
mances of groups like The
Fugees seem to serve as decent
indicators that a waking revela
tion is on the way for hip-hop
en masse.
Finally, what crept into our col
lective consciousness was uni
versal truth that seems to have
the nation in a stranglehold. That
truth speaks to the loss of inno
cence we have encountered as a
species as we grow older on this
planet. As the human race ages,
it is becoming increasingly dif
ficult to deny the monstrous evil
that is our own dark side and not
some provocative, demonic out
side force. Our own news me
dia reveals to us daily the new
levels of societal, inter-personal,
economic and political atrocities
we commit against each other
everyday. And is seems that the
children are becoming smarter
at a younger age lately . No.
They are being stripped of their
innocence earlier; a necessity for
this new world which appears
to have entered a new cultural,
and some say environmental.
Dark Ages.
The revelations that we must
all come to, grace school chil
dren to senior citizens, is that
we have taken our world to a
strange place far from its origi
nal point. If we do not make
SeeTRUTHpg.il
Realizing your power is about the
thought process-using your mind. Be
ing an intellect-driven person is some
thing which will change you from a
reactionary victim into a proactive
leader^
” “moral character,” Tyson stood
KAMILAH’S
JOURNARY
By Nubian
Part I
My life has been full of
moments that have shaped
ray mind and personality.
As I reflect upon my years
in Mother Africa, I can re
member vividly my seven
teenth year of life in my vil
lage Atar in the country of
Mauritania. Our houses
were in the shape of a horse
shoe with the courtyard in
the middle.
A picture of wood shav
ings falling to the ground
flash in my mind. It is my
father Adigun, the village
artist, a proud man whose
name meant righteous. Be
ing the village artist meant
that he spent most of his
time making masks that would
be worn by the priests in vil
lage ceremonies designed to
unite the living and the dead.
My mother Abeo, meaning
her name brings happiness,
was a kind, steadfast, quick-
thinking woman. Her job was
to process the oils. The day I
was born was considered to
be perfect because of the ideal
weather conditions, therefore
my mother named me
Kamilah, which means the
perfect one. After I was bom
my mother could no bear any
more children, so I guess my
name served its purpose. I
helped my mother process the
oils and I also danced in our
village ceremonies.
Adisa the rice merchant
was ray future husband to be.
I had known him ever since I
was a small child. He was fif
teen years my senior and had
been marriej.twice with seven
children. After we were mar
ried a child was conceived.
How anxiously we awaited the
arrival of our first child.
Finally the joyous day
He snatched me by
the arm and drug
my half-naked
body to the center
of the courtyard. I
tried my best to
fight back but I
was too weak.
came. The temperature felt as
if it were 150 degrees. Sweat
poured down ray face and
back as I endured the worst
pain I had ever felt in ray life.
The pains were so sharp I
could feel ray heart beating at
an extreraely fast rate. At times
my breath felt as if it were cut
off. The older women com
forted me during my ordeal of
child labor. After the labor was
over I whispered a sigh of re
lief. The elder women took my
baby to clean it up after tell
ing me it was a girl. As Flay
there, all I could envision was
my baby in my atras.
Suddenly there was a cora-
raotion outside. One old lady
ran in the house and inforraed
us that the slave traders had
invaded the village. But the
slave traders were the last
thing on my mind. All I could
think about was my child.
“Where is my child” I cried
angrily, when there before me
stood a white raan about six
feet, two-inches tall, with dark
brown hair and green eyes that
had an evil mystique about
them. He snatched me by
the arm and drug my half-
naked body to the center of
the courtyard. I tried my
best to fight back but I was
too weak.
At this time all I could
think about was ray child
and the thought that I would
never see what she looked
like. My nightmare had
come true for I never saw
ray child. Once I was taken
from ray village a part of rae
died that will never ever be
reborn.
As part one of a four part
series, follow Kamilah’s
journey of pain and triumph
from Africa to The New Land.
This is The Broncos’ Voice
continuing effort to bring you
the finest examples of
creative energy at FSU. Let
us know what you think. Ed.