Now that really twisted their lilâ olâ hate-filled minds around. Me, Chester L. Simmons from Missâssippi, one of their sister states, had actually been behind some grand theft action it was too much for âem!
âNow what they did, some bureaucrat in the Racial Determination section, was this. Since it was obvious that no black man could possibly have schemed himself into the kind of dough I was into, or created the kind of structured stealinâ that I had created, then I must be a white man.â
âWowwww! Talk about goinâ through changes!â Marcus burst out, eyes digging the Great Lawd.
âHmf! Changes you say? Uhhn huh, as good a word for it as you could hope to use. What was happeninâ, aside from all the money I was usinâ to bribe everybody and his brother with, was this. On the socio-political propaganda side, the authorities didnât want any kind of word to leak out officially about my gettinâ past the diamond mine check system. Me, a black dude! I mean, like, after all, that would give a lot oâ people big ideas. So, therefore, in that typical iron-headed way they have of doinâ things in that fucked up country, they had me declared a white man. Can you git ready for that?â
âYou a bad dude, Buddha,â Donnell assured him.
âBy this time Iâd been in the slams, in solitary for about six months, but my money was workinâ for me. I managed to stick coin to the Prime Ministerâs uncle even ⦠anything to get out. Now, young brothers, Iâll tell you the truth, if Iâm lyinâ I hope Godâll strike me dead.â
He paused for a cigarette and a light, dragged in.
âI donât know who really decided that the best thing to do was deport me, but I shoâ wanna thank him. Aside from my bribery, they wanted to get rid of me for political reasons. They didnât want a declared white man that looked kind oâ black in jail creating some weird kind of martyr for the black people, so they forced me to agree to a deportation scene.
âWell, heyyy, you can imagine how I felt. I wouldâve agreed to anything to get out of that place. Anything!â
âRight on, brother!â Brian cued in.
âWell, you can believe they fucked me over a lilâ bit before I was finally released. One day the guard would announce that I was leavinâ that eveninâ, then turn right back around and tell me to forget about it ⦠as well as your other kinds of regular torture. The South African white man is a stranger to most of the rest of the human race, him and the rednecked Mississippian. I donât really know what happened to them durinâ the evolutionary process, but I do know this, a special kind of sickness settled into them hundreds of years ago and theyâve never been close to being healthy.â
The Great Lawd Buddha pursed his lips reflectively and slowly stood, his eyes following the lazy flight of a pigeon. Marcus, Donnell and Brian followed the direction of his eyes.
Brian, impatiently wanting to hear the end of Buddhaâs story before lockup, asked âUhh, so they booted you out, huh?â
âIn the dead of night, my friend, in the dead of night,â he continued, snapping his eyes away from the pigeonâs flight, âme and three other undesirable aliens. However, I could say, as a history maker, that I had had the opportunity to be a black white man in one of the most prejudiced white places on earth, and you can believe me, that takes some doinâ.
âAwright, deported, hardshippinâ and in Zambia, tryinâ to shit out a few of these gems Iâd stuffed away in my precious lilâ body.â
âYou got away with some?â
âClean as a whistle! Theyâd made me take some laxatives ân shit, but years ago, in India, thatâs another whole story, a great Yoga man taught me how to control my bowels. I mean,
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