Benin, Yoruba; of old Timbuctoo, Kana, Zimbabwe, Zegzeg, of the great king Abuade Izchia but I will neither listen nor believe for no white lips have phrased these words, and therefore they cannot be true.My dream is to be physically white . . . so I straighten my kinks, bleach my skin and look down on those darker than I . . . For myself I build pale gods to serve . . . whatever white folk do I imitate."
***
The voice of the giant grows louder. The jangle of his chains almost drowns out his words. He stops kneeling and stands erect, his head thrown back, blood trickling from his legs where the shackles dig into his flesh. Great drops of sweat glisten on his forehead. The white faces at the window reappear and smiles play on their features.
"But most of all, dear Lord, I have no guts and I refuse to heed the law of self-preservation.I cry . . . yet I will not heal those ills bringing tears to my eyes.I will not support men and movements battling for my betterment.I will not pool my dollars to fight in the courts atrocities committed against me or illegal laws denying rights guaranteed by the Constitution of my country.I will not unite my resources to found businesses giving jobs to my people nor will I lend wholehearted support to enterprises run by men and women of my race.
