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Love is forever

Excerpts from my next Book:

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Forever
Introduction: The Gift of Forever Love

Love is one of life’s greatest mysteries—a force that transcends time, space, and human understanding. For those fortunate enough to discover true love and nurture it across decades, the experience becomes nothing short of a divine blessing. This book celebrates such enduring love, drawing on the profound journey of staying married and deeply in love for 45 years. It is not just a testament to romance but also to resilience, faith, and the art of choosing each other every single day.

A Prodigy of Love

When I was twelve years old, Millie professed her love for me in a way that even Romeo could not explain to Juliet. She was only eleven, and in her young, unwavering voice, she declared, “I will always love you for the rest of my life.
I will I never give my heart to anyone
else.” At twelve, what did I know about love? What did she? I often ask myself that question, but then I remember a passage from the Bible: A child shall
show them the way. Could it be that
love, like music or art, has its prodigies—those who understand its
depth before the rest of us do?
I didn’t think much of it at the time. My mind was occupied with baseball, riding my bike, and dreaming of one day being older. But Millie? She knew something I didn’t. Her words were the last thing she said to me when my family packed up and moved from the house we rented from her father. I still remember how she stood on the sidewalk, her arms crossed, biting her lip as if trying to hold back tears. She wasn’t the kind of girl who cried easily. She had a toughness about her that I admired. But that day, she looked fragile, like a dandelion whose petals were about to scatter in the wind. We drove away, and I didn’t look back. I should have. Maybe, in her own way, she truly meant what she said. Maybe it wasn’t just the fleeting emotions of a child. But what could I do? I was twelve, and life was carrying me forward whether I wanted it to or not.
As the years passed, I often wondered if Millie remembered that day. Did she hold on to those words? Or was it simply a moment in time, forgotten like so many childhood promises? The thing about first love is that it leaves an imprint, one you don’t fully recognize until much later in life.

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Africa I love you:

White lies, is not a Book of or about Hate.

It’s a Celebration of Africa and China’s Partnership.

A Celebration of the People, Culture and Resilience of the African Diaspora’s.

Chapter 1: 

The Call of My Ancestral Land

“There are no chance meetings” Predestined.

When I moved to South Carolina, little did I know, this was the beginning of my trip back to Africa, Dejavu. I knew there would be a culture shock waiting for me. This state, which was once the epicenter of the slave trade in America, bore the weight of a history that could not be ignored. Every corner seemed to whisper stories of pain, resilience, and survival. The echoes of my ancestors, who had been shackled and stripped of their humanity, were palpable in the humid air. Like Marley said, “There is a natural mystic blowing in the air” The realization that I now lived in a place that had been the major beneficiary of slavery made my connection to the land both intimate and haunting. Living here created a sense of urgency in me—a burning need to dig deeper into the cradle of my being. I felt a pull to understand Africa, not as a distant, abstract concept, but as the origin of everything that made me who I am. I had to unearth the roots of my identity and confront the reality of what had been perpetuated on my paternal land. The devastation inflicted upon my people, culture, heritage, and psyche was not just a distant history; it was a present reality, living here. Shaping my consciousness and my place in the world. The more I learned about the history of Africa—its civilizations, its rich cultures, its vibrant languages—the more I realized the depth of what had been stolen. The cradle of humanity, my homeland, had been pillaged, Spoils of a war that never was. It’s people scattered like seeds across foreign lands. And yet, despite the trauma and fragmentation, there was resilience, and the unbroken spirits that called me back to my roots. As I stood on the soil of South Carolina, I felt the weight of this history, not as a burden but as a call to action. I knew that I could not remain silent any longer. Bob Marley’s words rang in my mind: Could this be love? The question lingered, challenging me to look beyond the pain and devastation to see the love that still existed—love for a homeland I had never seen, love for a people I had never met but felt deeply connected to. It was a love that demanded something of me, a response, an acknowledgment of the bond that transcends time and space. Marley also urged, Say something. In those simple words, I found a call to action. It was time to speak up, to reclaim the narrative that had been stripped away. It was time to say something about the threads that bound me to Africa—threads that had endured despite centuries of efforts to sever them. I knew then that it was my time to speak, to tell the story of my heart’s connection to Africa, to honor my ancestors and the resilience of my people. The most damage to my Psych, watching Tarzan. Tarzan’s “ungawa” was strictly a made-up word when it first appeared in the movies. But by chance, it’s also Swahili, with a couple of meanings, depending on inflection. “To unite” or “to join” is one translation. When I sit down and listen to the artist D Sharp song, “Desire” with the Drummer taking me back to my Village. It gives me back that which was stolen, my Identity and my Culture.

featured, Life

Africa I Love you

White Lies

Africa Ethiopian Africa’s Journey Through Global Eyes: Reflections on the Past, Present, and China’s Unique Role in the Future “The Lion Of Judah will break every chain, and lead us to victory again and again”. From Barter to Global Capitalism: Africa’s Path to Economic Empowerment Ethiopia: A Journey Through Time – From Primal Existence to Spiritual Celebration Ethiopia’s Beginnings – The Cradle of Civilization Chapter 1: The Call of My Ancestral Land There are no chance meetings When I moved to South Carolina, I knew there would be a culture shock waiting for me. This state, which was once the epicenter of the slave trade in America, bore the weight of a history that could not be ignored. Every corner seemed to whisper stories of pain, resilience, and survival. The echoes of my ancestors, who had been shackled and stripped of their humanity, were palpable in the humid air. The realization that I now lived in a place that had been the major beneficiary of slavery made my connection to the land both intimate and haunting. Living here created a sense of urgency in me—a burning need to dig deeper into the cradle of my being. I felt a pull to understand Africa, not as a distant, abstract concept, but as the origin of everything that made me who I am. I had to unearth the roots of my identity and confront the reality of what had been perpetuated on my paternal land. The devastation inflicted upon my people, culture, heritage, and psyche was not just a distant history; it was a present reality, shaping my consciousness and my place in the world. The more I learned about the history of Africa—its civilizations, its rich cultures, its vibrant languages—the more I realized the depth of what had been stolen. The cradle of humanity, my homeland, had been pillaged, its people scattered like seeds across foreign lands. And yet, despite the trauma and fragmentation, there was resilience, an unbroken spirit that called me back to my roots. As I stood on the soil of South Carolina, I felt the weight of this history, not as a burden but as a call to action. I knew that I could not remain silent any longer. Bob Marley’s words rang in my mind: Could this be love? The question lingered, challenging me to look beyond the pain and devastation to see the love that still existed—love for a homeland I had never seen, love for a people I had never met but felt deeply connected to. It was a love that demanded something of me, a response, an acknowledgment of the bond that transcends time and space. Marley also urged, Say something. In those simple words, I found a call to action. It was time to speak up, to reclaim the narrative that had been stripped away. It was time to say something about the threads that bound me to Africa—threads that had endured despite centuries of efforts to sever them. I knew then that it was my time to speak, to tell the story of my heart’s connection to Africa, to honor my ancestors and the resilience of my people. I embarked on a journey of research, learning about Africa from its origins as the Cradle of Humanity to its diverse and complex civilizations—kingdoms and empires that thrived long before colonizers set foot on its soil. I learned of Timbuktu, once the center of knowledge and scholarship, and of the great empires of Mali, Ghana, and Songhai, whose wealth and power challenged the narratives I had been taught in Western classrooms. I realized that Africa was not a land of primitive tribes awaiting civilization; it was the origin of civilization itself. The more I learned, the more my heart ached for what had been lost and what could still be reclaimed. The systematic effort to strip Africa of its identity, its culture, and its people had left scars that spanned generations. The trauma was not just historical; it was alive, shaping the lives of descendants like me who lived far from the motherland but felt its call deeply. But with that pain came a sense of responsibility. I knew I had to honor the legacy of my ancestors by reclaiming their stories, their languages, their pride. Say something, Marley’s voice echoed again. So, I resolved to use my voice, my words, and my platform to speak the truth about Africa—not as a place of darkness and despair, but as a land of light, resilience, and possibility.
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Human Trafficking: Modern day Slavery

Human Trafficking: The Modern-Day Slavery

Opening Verse: The Weight of One Life

If you could save just one life, would you?

This question has haunted me through every word of the 509 blogs I’ve written. It all began with a simple, 60-word post on Facebook—an unassuming message about the misusing of social media. Safe travels and the nuances of parenting were the theme of my Blogs. I didn’t anticipate the ripple it would create, nor the path it would set me on. But that small act ignited something within me, a realization that words carry power, that they can reach into the void and touch souls lost in the shadows.

The night I shared that first post, I stared at the ceiling, sleep elusive. A storm of thoughts swirled in my mind. Was anyone listening? Could a few sentences make a difference? The glow of the screen had faded, but its afterimage burned behind my eyes. I felt a pull—a calling—to dive deeper, to use my voice to illuminate the darkness that many choose to ignore.

I began exploring stories that others shied away from, peeling back layers to reveal the harsh realities of predators lurking in plain sight and the insidious web of human trafficking. Each blog became a beacon, a flare shot into the night sky, signaling to anyone out there that they were not alone. I wrote about safe passages, the importance of vigilance, and the silent cries of those trapped in unimaginable circumstances.

Then came the message that changed everything: “Your words gave me the courage to leave.” A survivor had found solace and strength in my writings. Her story was one of unimaginable hardship, but also of resilience and hope. In that moment, the weight of what I was doing hit me. My words had transcended the digital abyss and reached a real, beating heart. The abstract became tangible. The question I’d been asking wasn’t hypothetical anymore.

Could I save just one life? The answer was unfolding before me.

But with that realization came a heavier burden. The stories I unearthed were not just tales; they were lived nightmares. Children manipulated by those they trusted, individuals sold and traded as commodities, lives crushed under the weight of others’ greed and perversion. The more I learned, the more imperative it became to continue—to shout louder into the void.

I recalled a fundamental principle rooted deeply in my faith and echoed across religions and moral codes: saving one life is akin to saving the entire world. It’s a reminder that every soul carries infinite value, that our actions, no matter how small, can have profound impacts.

This book is the next step in my journey—a commitment to delve deeper, to shine a relentless light on the darkest corners. It’s not just about telling stories; it’s about confronting uncomfortable truths and urging collective action. Through vivid narratives and unwavering honesty, I aim to not only inform but to galvanize. Predators and traffickers thrive in silence and ignorance; by exposing their shadows, we strip them of power.

I invite you to walk this path with me—not as a passive observer, but as an active participant in change. Feel the urgency, the fear, the hope. Let the stories stir something within you, a call to reflect on that pivotal question.

If you could save just one life, would you?

Because in the end, it’s not about grand gestures or sweeping movements. It’s about individual choices, small acts of courage, and the willingness to face the darkness head-on. Together, we can create ripples that turn into waves, waves that can wash away the stains of indifference and inaction.
So, turn the page. Let us begin this journey. Lives are hanging in the balance, and each one is a world unto itself. Saving one is saving all.

Introduction: A Silent Epidemic