Our Time PressThe Local Paper with the Global View

Commenting on the improvements at Interfaith Hospital, the Rt. Rev. Orris G. Walker, Jr. Chairman of the Board of Trustees, remarked, “I have lived with Interfaith for seventeen years and I know that God can make a way out of no way.”   Walker was one of several dignitaries celebrating the groundbreaking of the new building on Atlantic Avenue between Albany and Lewis Avenues.
The 50,000-square-foot East Building will house new clinical space, Interfaith Medical Center’s Certified Home Health Services Agency and administrative functions.
Edward J. Glicksman, Interfaith Medical Center’s Chief Executive Officer, said, “Today marks another major milestone in the 10-year transformation of Interfaith Medical Center. Our new East Building will significantly enhance our Patient Care Services by providing us with much -needed state-of-the-art clinical space and the new headquarters of our Certified Home Health Services Agency.”
Anyone who has visited the administrative and financial offices located in the back of what remains of the Jewish Hospital on St. Marks Avenue realizes how badly the new facility is needed.
” In addition to enhancing our health- care services, this building will also increase our operating efficiencies as we will be able to consolidate all of our administrative functions -including Finance, Human Resources and MIS–into modern, efficient, new surroundings on our main hospital campus,” Mr. Glicksman continued.
“With our new initiatives, coupled with the additional resources of our new East Building, we are well-positioned to continue to provide high-quality health care to the people of central Brooklyn. We are steadfast in our commitment to caring and I want to thank our staff, members of the community, our elected officials and members of the press for all of your support of Interfaith Medical Center in the past, today and in the future,” Mr. Glicksman concluded.

West Trenton – Longtime fugitive Joanne Chesimard will be looking over her shoulder a lot more in Cuba now that the reward for her capture has been increased to $1,000,000.
 Attorney General Peter Harvey, Colonel Rick Fuentes and others today announced that the U.S. Attorney General authorized the federal bounty to be increased from $50,000 on April 28, 2005.
Chesimard was a member of the Black- Liberation Army when on May 2, 1973 (32 years ago today) when she and two accomplices began a shootout with two state troopers. Trooper Werner Foerster was severely wounded and then executed on the roadside by Chesimard.
One of the armed attackers, James Coston, was killed in the exchange of gunfire. Chesimard and the car’s driver, Clark Squire, were arrested after an intensive manhunt. They were charged, tried and sentenced for murder. Squire remains in jail, but in 1978, Chesimard escaped with help from the BLA. She later fled to Cuba.
Now known as,Assata Shakur, the 57-year-old Chesimard is living free in Cuba under the protection of Fidel Castro. The State Police have gathered intelligence about her ever since her escape from jail. Diplomatic efforts have so far failed to bring the convicted murderer to justice.
One year ago, Attorney General Peter Harvey, Colonel Rick Fuentes, State Police Lt. Kevin Tormey and officials from the Newark Division of the FBI met with FBI Director Robert Mueller. They relayed the details of the case along with the status of the fugitive investigation and requested the $1 million reward. The lengthy justification and approval process at the U.S. Department of Justice culminated with the authorization of the money by U.S. Attorney General Gonzales last week.
“Trooper Foerster gave his life bravely in the line of duty, protecting the people of this state and dedicating himself to the highest principles of the New Jersey State Police,” said Attorney General Harvey. “He was brutally murdered 2 years and 10 months into his service as a trooper. This reward will help bring his killer to justice.”
The reward money will be given for information leading to the capture of Joanne Chesimard and her safe return to New Jersey to continue her prison sentence for the murder of Trooper Foerster. Since 1979, she has been classified as a federal fugitive and the subject of an Unlawful Flight to Avoid Confinement warrant.
“This money sends the message that  the passage of time does not diminish the intent and energy of  the State Police and FBI to bring this convicted killer to justice,” said Colonel Rick Fuentes. “We believe that this increased reward, and the placing of her name on terrorism lists will bring opportunities for the capture and return of Joanne Chesimard.”
Fuentes said that wanted flyers in both English and Spanish announcing the reward have been prepared and will be distributed across the U.S., the Caribbean, South America, Central America and Europe. Earlier this year, Lt. Colonel Juan Mattos took advantage of an invitation to go to the Dominican Republic to brief police officials from LatinAmerican countries on the fugitive investigation.
“Our police, just like our soldiers, put their lives on the line every day so the rest of us can be safe,” Acting Governor Richard J. Codey said. “Trooper Werner Foerster was a hero.  His killer must be found and brought to justice. I welcome anyone to come forward if they have information that can lead to an arrest.”
U.S. Attorney Lee Solomon, ASAC Peter Ruiz and ASAC Richard Kelly of the FBI’s Newark Office, New Jersey Department of Corrections Commissioner Devon Brown and other law-enforcement representatives were at today’s event to lend their critical support to this fugitive investigation. Also in attendance was retired State Police Lt. Rich Ryan, who undertook the initial fugitive investigation in 1979.
Clark Squire, a.k.a. Sundiata Acoli, remains in jail serving a life sentence for his involvement in the murder of Trooper Foerster. The State Police continue to offer input each time he comes up for a parole hearing.

What happens to old Black Panthers? Some wind up dead, like Huey P. Newton. Some join the Moonies and the Republican Party, like Eldridge Cleaver. Some, like Mumia Abu- Jamal, languish in prison. But a few, like Assata Shakur, have taken the path of the “Maroon,” the runaway slave of old who slipped off the plantation to the free jungle communities known as “palenques.”
Two decades ago, Shakur was described as “the Soul of the Black Liberation Army (BLA),” an underground, paramilitary group that emerged from the rubble of East Coast chapters of the Black Panther Party. Among her closest political comrades was Afeni Shakur, Tupac Shakur’s mother. Forced underground in 1971 by charges that were later proved false, Assata was accused of being the “bandit queen” of the BLA; the “mother hen who kept them together, kept them moving, kept them shooting.” The BLA’s alleged actions included: assassinating almost ten police officers, kidnapping drug dealers (one of whom turned out to be an FBI agent) and robbing banks from coast to coast.
Throughout 1971 and 1972, “Assata sightings” and wild speculation about her deeds were a headline mainstay for New York tabloids. Then, in 1973, Shakur and two friends were pulled over by state troopers on the New Jersey Turnpike. During the stop, shootings erupted. A trooper and one alleged BLA member were killed, another trooper was slightly hurt and Assata-or Miss Joanne Chesimard, as authorities preferred to call her-was severely wounded by a blast of police gunfire. Left to die in a paddy wagon, she survived only to be charged for the trooper’s death and sentenced to life in prison. During the next six years (much of it spent in solitary confinement), Shakur beat a half dozen other indictments. In 1979-after giving birth in prison, only to have her daughter taken away in less than a week  Assata Shakur managed one of the most impressive jailbreaks of that era.
After almost a year in a West Virginia federal prison for women, surrounded by white supremacists from the Aryan Sisterhood prison gang, Shakur was transferred to the maximum security wing of the Clinton Correctional Center in New Jersey. There, she was one of only eight maximum security prisoners held in a small, well-fenced cellblock of their own. The rest of Clinton-including its visiting area-was medium security and not fenced in.
According to news reports at the time, Shakur’s November 2 escape proceeded as follows: Three men-two black, one white-using bogus drivers license’s and Social Security cards, requested visits with Assata four weeks in advance, as was prison policy. But prison officials never did the requisite background checks. On the day of the escape, the team of three met in the waiting room at the prison entrance, where they were processed through registration and shuttled in a van to the visiting room in South Hall.
One member of the team went ahead of the rest. Although there was a sign stating that all visitors would be searched with a handheld metal detector-he made it through registration without even a pat-down. Meanwhile, the other two men were processed without a search. As these two were being let through the chain-link fences and locked metal doors at the visiting center, one of them drew a gun and took the guard hostage. Simultaneously, the man visiting Shakur rushed the control booth, put two pistols to the glass wall, and ordered the officer to open the room’s metal door. She obliged.
From there Shakur, and “the raiders”, as some press reports dubbed them took a third guard hostage and made it to the parked van. Because only the maximum security section of the prison was fully fenced-in, the escape team was able to speed across a grassy meadow to the parking lot of the Hunterdon State School where they meet two more female accomplices, and split up into a “two-tone blue sedan” and a Ford Maverick. All the guards were released unharmed and the FBI immediately launched a massive hunt. But Shakur disappeared without a trace. For the next five years, authorities hunted in vain. Shakur had vanished.
Numerous other alleged BLA cadre were busted during those years, including Tupac’s stepfather, Mutula Shakur. In 1984, word came from 90 miles off the coast of Florida. The FBI’s most wanted female fugitive was living in Cuba, working on a master’s degree in political science, writing her autobiography and raising her daughter. Cut to 2001. It’s a stunningly hot summer afternoon in Havana, Cuba the ultimate palenque and I am having strong black coffee with Assata Shakur who just turned  54, but looks more like 36. She keeps a low profile, security is still a big concern. She’s finishing her second book. Given how much the Feds want this woman locked up, I feel strange being in her house, as if my presence is a breach of security.
How did you arrive in Cuba?
Well, I couldn’t, you know, just write a letter and say “Dear Fidel, I’d like to come to your country.” So I had to hoof it-come and wait for the Cubans to respond. Luckily, they had some idea who I was, they’d seen some of the briefs and UN petitions from when I was a political prisoner. So, they were somewhat familiar with my case and they gave me the status of being a political refugee. That means I am here in exile as a political person.
How did you feel when you got here?
 I was really overwhelmed. Even though I considered myself a socialist, I had these insane, silly notions about Cuba. I mean, I grew up in the 1950s when little kids were hiding under their desksbecause “the Communists were coming.” So, even though I was very supportive of the revolution, I expected everyone to go around in green fatigues looking like Fidel, speaking in a very stereotypical way, “the revolution must continue, Companero. Let us triumph, Comrade.” When I got here people were just people, doing what they had where I came from. It’s a country with a strong sense of community. Unlike the U.S., folks aren’t as isolated. People are really into other people. Also, I didn’t know there were all these black people here and that there was this whole Afro-Cuban culture. My image of Cuba was Che Guevara and Fidel Castro, I hadn’t heard of Antonio Maceo [a hero of the Cuban War of Independence] and other Africans who had played a role in Cuban history. The lack of brand names and consumerism also really hit me. You go into a store and there would be a bag of “rice.” It undermined what I had taken for granted in the absurd zone where people are like, “Hey, I only eat uncle so and so’s brand of rice.”
How were you greeted by the Cuban state?
They’ve treated me very well. It was different from what I expected, I thought they might be pushy. But they were more interested in what I wanted to do, in my projects. I told them that the most important things were to unite with my daughter and to write a book. They said, “What do you need to do that?” They were also interested in my vision of the struggle of African people in the United States. I was so impressed by that. Because I grew up-so to speak-in the movement dealing with white leftists who were very bossy and wanted to tell us what to do and thought they knew everything. The Cuban attitude was one of solidarity with respect. It was a profound lesson in cooperation.
Did they introduce you to people
or guide you around for a while?
They gave me a dictionary, an apartment, took me to some historical places, and then I was pretty much on my own. My daughter came down after prolonged harassment and being denied a passport, and she became my number one priority. We discovered Cuban schools together, we did the sixth grade together, explored parks and the beach. She was taken from you at birth, right? Yeah. It’s not like Cuba where you get to breast-feed in prison and where they work closely with the family. Some mothers in the U.S. never get to see their newborns. I was with my daughter for a week before they sent me back to the prison. That was one of the most difficult periods of my life, that separation. It’s only been recently that I’ve been able to talk about it. I had to just block it out, otherwise, I think I might have gone insane. In 1979, when I escaped, she was only five years old.
You came to Cuba how soon after?
 Five years later, in 1984. I know it’s probably out of bounds, but where were you during the intervening years? I was underground. But I don’t talk about that period. To do so would put a lot of people who helped me in jeopardy.
Right, I hear you. You’ve talked about adjusting to Cuba, but could you talk a bit about adjusting to exile.
Well, for me exile means separation from people I love. I didn’t, and don’t miss the U.S., per se. But Black culture, black life in the U.S., that African-American flavor, I definitely miss. The language, the movements, the style, I get nostalgic about that. Adjusting to exile is coming to grips with the fact that you may never go back to where you come from. The way I dealt with that, psychologically, was thinking about slavery. You know, a slave had to come to grips with the fact that “I may never see Africa again.” Then a Maroon, a runaway slave, has to-even in the act of freedom-adjust to the fact that being free or struggling for freedom means, “I’ll be separated from people I love.” So I drew on that and people like Harriet Tubman and all those people who got away from slavery. Because that’s what prison looked like. It looked like slavery. It felt like slavery. It was black people and people of color in chains. And the way I got there was slavery. If you stand up and say, “I don’t go for the status quo.” Then “we got something for you, it’s a whip, a chain, a cell.” Even in being free it was like, “I am free but now what?” There was a lot to get used to. Living in a society committed to social justice, a Third World  country with a lot of problems. It took a while to understand all that Cubans are up against and fully appreciate all they are trying to do.
Did the Africanness of Cuba help,
did that provide solace?
The first thing that was comforting was the politics. It was such a relief. You know, in the States you feel overwhelmed by the negative messages that you get and you just feel weird, like you’re the only one seeing all this pain and inequality. People are saying, “Forget about that, just try to get rich, @#%$ eat @#%$, get your own, buy, spend, consume.” So living here was an affirmation of myself, it was like “Okay, there are lots of people who get outraged at injustice.” The African culture I discovered later. At first, I was learning the politics, about socialism-what it feels like to live in a country where everything is owned by the people, where health care and medicine are free. Then I started to learn about the Afro-Cuban religions, the Santeria, Palo Monte, the Abakua. I wanted to understand the ceremonies and the philosophy. I really came to grips with how much we-black people in the U.S.-were robbed of. Whether it’s the tambours, the drums or the dances. Here, they still know rituals preserved from slavery times. It was like finding another piece of myself. I had to find an African name. I’m still looking for pieces of that Africa I was torn from. I’ve found it here in all aspects of the culture. There is a tendency to reduce the Africanness of Cuba to the Santeria. But it’s in the literature, the language, the politics.
When the USSR collapsed, did you worry about a counter revolution in Cuba and,
by extension, your own safety?
Of course. I would have to have been nuts not to worry. People would come down here from the States and say, “How long do you think the revolution has-two months, three months? Do you think the revolution will survive? You better get out of here.” It was rough. Cubans were complaining every day, which is totally sane. I mean, who wouldn’t? The food situation was really bad, much worse than now, no transportation, eight-hour blackouts. We would sit in the dark and wonder, “How much can people take?” I’ve been to prison and lived in the States, so I can take damn near anything. I felt I could survive whatever-anything except U.S. imperialism coming in and taking control. That’s the one thing I couldn’t survive. Luckily, a lot of Cubans felt the same way. It took a lot for people to pull through, waiting hours for the bus before work. It wasn’t easy. But this isn’t a superficial, imposed revolution. This is one of those gut revolutions. One of those blood, sweat and tears revolutions. This is one of those revolutions where people are like, “We ain’t going back on the plantation, period. We don’t care if you’re Uncle Sam, we don’t care about your guided missiles, about your filthy, dirty CIA maneuvers. We’re on this island of 11 million people and we’re gonna live the way we want and if you don’t like it, go take a ride.” And we could get stronger with the language. Of course, not everyone feels like that, but enough do.
What about race and racism in Cuba?
That’s a big question. The revolution has only been around 30-something years. It would be fantasy to believe that the Cubans could have completely gotten rid of racism in that short a time. Socialism is not a magic wand: wave it and everything changes. Can you be more specific about the successes and failures along these lines? I can’t think of any area of the country that is segregated. Another example, the Third congress of the Cuban Communist Party was focused on making party leadership reflect the actual number of people of color and women in the country. Unfortunately, by the time the Fourth Congress rolled around the whole focus had to be on the survival of the revolution. When the Soviet Union and the socialist camp collapsed ,Cuba lost something like 85 percent of its income. It’s a process but I honestly think that there’s room for a lot of changes throughout the culture. Some people still talk about “good hair” and “bad hair.” Some people think light skin is good, that if you marry a light person you’re advancing the race. There are a lot of contradictions in peoples’ consciousness. There still needs to be de-eurocentrizing of the schools, though Cuba is further along with that than most places in the world. In fairness, I think that race relations in Cuba are 20 times better than they are in the States and I believe the revolution is committed to eliminating racism completely. I also feel that the special period has changed conditions in Cuba. It’s brought in lots of white tourists, many of whom are racists and expect to be waited on subserviently. Another thing is the joint venture corporations which bring their racist ideas and racist corporate practices, for example, not hiring enough blacks. All of that means the revolution has to be more vigilant than ever in identifying and dealing with racism.
A charge one hears, even on the left, is that institutional racism still exists in Cuba. Is that true? Does one find racist patterns in allocation of housing, work or the functions of criminal justice?
No. I don’t think institutional racism, as such, exists in Cuba. But at the same time, people have their personal prejudices. Obviously these people, with these personal prejudices, must work somewhere, and must have some influence on the institutions they work in. But I think it’s superficial to say racism is institutionalized in Cuba. I believe that there needs to be a constant campaign to educate people sensitize people and analyze racism. The fight against racism always has two levels: the level of politics and policy but also the level of individual consciousness. One of the things that influences ideas about race in Cuba is that the revolution happened in 1959 when the world had a very limited understanding of what racism was. During the 1960s, the world saw Movement, which I, for one, very much benefitted from. You know, “black is beautiful,” exploring African art, literature and culture. That process didn’t really happen in Cuba. Over the years, the revolution accomplished so much that most people thought that meant the end of racism. For example, I’d say that more than 90 percent of black people with college degrees were able to do so because of the revolution. They were in a different historical place. The emphasis, for very good reasons, was on black-white unity and the survival of the revolution. So it’s only now that people in the universities are looking into the politics of identity.
What do you think of the various situations of your former comrades? For example, the recent releases of Geronimo Pratt, Johnny  Spain and Dhoruba Bin Wahad; the continued work of Angela Davis and Bobby Seale and, on a downside, the political trajectory of Eldridge Cleaver and the death of Huey Newton?
There have been some victories. And those victories have come about from a lot of hard work. But it took a long time. It took Geronimo 27 years and Dhoruba 19 years to prove that they were innocent and victimized by COINTELPRO. The government has admitted that it operated COINTELPRO but it hasn’t admitted to victimizing anyone. How can that be? I think that people in the States should be struggling for the immediate freedom of Mumia Abu-Jamal and amnesty for all political prisoners. I think that the reason these tasks are largely neglected reflects not only the weakness of the left, but its racism.
On the positive side, I think a lot of people are growing and healing. Many of us are for the first time analyzing the way we were wounded. Not just as Africans, but as people in the movement who were, and still are, subjected to terror and surveillance. We’re finally able to come together and acknowledge that the repression was real and say, “We need to heal.” I have hope for a lot of those people who were burnt out or addicted to drugs or alcohol, the casualties of our struggle. Given all that we were and are up against, I think we did pretty well.

Hon. Minister Louis Farrakhan, leader of the Nation of Islam, came to Brooklyn last month to personally announce the 2005 Millions More Movement and to call for unity among Black leaders, Black men,  Black women and the greater Diaspora family. 
He spoke at the historic House of the Lord Church, pastored by The Reverend Herbert Daughtry, May 7, as keynote speaker for the 21st Century State of the Black World Forum organized by the Institute of the Black World (IBW).
The “Movement”, which will be held in Washington, D.C., Oct. 14 – 16 pays tribute to the 10th anniversary of the single largest gathering of Black men ever in America — The historic Million Man March, in which millions of people particpated, and millions more viewed throughout the world.
At a press announcement at the National Press Club in D.C. two weeks ago, Farrakhan said, “We called it a Millions More Movement. We already had millions at the Mall for the Million Man March. Our Sisters had millions in Philadelphia for the Million Women March,”  this is a call to bring them together in the creation of a movement of unity of  leadership across ideological, gender and other barriers.
The mission of the IBW (founded by Ron Daniels) is to uplift Black America and the global Black community, and they certainly were on that path with the minister’s two-hour presentation.  But before the uplifting, there had to be an explanation of how things are. 
With stories, metaphors, the Bible and the Koran, all laced with humor to break barriers and ease understanding, the minister told the overflowing crowd, “You are a great people and the enemy knows it”, and that is why they work so hard to “keep you from finding out who you are…there is a great conspiracy against your rise.”  He spoke also of the co-conspirators within ourselves, a human nature “twisted like a pretzel” and formed by four hundred years of terror used as a means of control.  
When Minister Farrakhan says “the enemy is working night and day to destroy our future,” and speaks of a “conspiracy,” many scoff and call it paranoia or worse, but the “enemy” is not necessarily five guys meeting once a week plotting the downfall of Black people, rather, he speaks to individual and institutional sins of commission and omission, the deliberate and the unthinking actions of society.  
Whether it’s the criminal justice system, gentrification, beer that’s cheaper than water, or the millions of dollars spent creating marketing campaigns for fast-food meals of astonishing cholesterol and fat content targeted at Black consumers already besieged with health problems, there is a constant grinding down of the Black community.
When he says “the enemy makes death taste good to you”, Farrakhan is not just speaking about fast foods and  hormones in the food supply causing “9-year-old girls to have Barbie in one hand and a sanitary napkin in the other,” but death for a race of people distracted by the sexual frenzy perpetrated by pop culture, the ease of letting the television raise the children and the marketing industry insistence that instant self-gratification is the best reward.  “The enemy makes a sneaker with the Jordan image for $150…and then we rob each other, having allowed things to define us”, said Farrakhan.
The co-option of Black intellectuals and professionals was also spoken of.  Coming out of college, they are “hidden away in corporate America,” with their salary, benefits and cars, thinking that by not being poor, they are doing something for the race.  But Farrakhan says “the enemy is laughing because we are a destroyed people on a death march to social deterioration.” Emphasizing how “language has the power to change the way you think,” Farrakhan reminded that “everyone who has conquered us has inflicted us with their language,” and used it to divide us into speakers of English, Spanish or French but “Blackness unites us all.”
He spoke of the African liberation successes of the 50’s and 60’s and how Blacks were uniting and taking pride in being Black, “we saw we were not the minority but the majority.  Churches began to have a liberation theology.  When we opened the Bibles we began looking for ourselves.” 
But something has happened says Farrakhan, and many in the new generation have lost the meaning of the struggle for freedom.  That “something” can be seen as evidence of the enemy being afoot.  The Counterintelligence Program, the infamous COINTELPRO operation of federal and local security forces, used any means necessary, killing, perjury, dirty tricks to destroy Black  leadership.  This was followed by the CIA-enabled crack epidemic, amply documented in Gary Webb’s Dark Alliance, which was nothing less than chemical warfare on the Black community.

That “something” can be seen in research by Human Rights Watch that shows “Blacks comprise 13 percent of the national population, but 30 percent of people arrested, 41 percent of people in jail, and 49 percent of those in prison. Nine percent of all Black adults are under some form of correctional supervision (in jail or prison, on probation or parole), compared to two percent of white adults.  One in three Black men between the ages of 20 and 29 was either in jail or prison, or on parole or probation in 1995. One in ten Black men in their twenties and early thirties are in prison or jail. Thirteen percent of the Black adult male population has lost the right to vote because of felony disenfranchisement laws.”
That “something” can be seen in the Center for Disease Control (CDC) reports that HIV is the leading cause of death for African Americans ages 25-44 and that the AIDS rate for African American women in 2001 was almost 20 times that of white women and the statistics get worse with each year’s report.
That “something” can be seen in the poor performance of school systems around the country, the  paucity of Blacks, particularly Black men, in higher education, and this as businesses require increasing levels of education, and can instantly access the needed brainpower, for the lowest price, anywhere in the world.
And yet through it all, says the minister, “In your madness, you rule the world.”  Everywhere you look there are Black images on the walls of white children he says.  Hip-Hop has white children enthralled.  These are symptoms of the spiritual and creative essence that keeps the world captivated, and a life force which will not be denied but which needs assistance. “We have to remedy the condition we’re in.   We have found the bottom and there’s no place to go but up.” Do not be discouraged, says Farrakhan.  “There is a way out of all this.”   A unity of leadership that spans the slave-era languages of the Diaspora, English, French and Spanish.   A unity brought together by the condition of the people and the direction the country is taking, and coming together in the  form of the Millions More Movement For Change on the 10th Anniversary of the Million Man March in October 2005.
It is to be a physical representation of a change of mind that is joining the leadership of different political stripes.  “The NAACP board is 100% in support” and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference “wants to work with us to create a movement,” said the minister,   saying also that Coretta Scott King and the Conference of Black Mayors, the “brilliant” Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton, were all supporters as well.  “The family is coming together because we need to save our people.”
Farrakhan reminded the assembled that, “When the poor get together the rich fall off our backs and they don’t like that”, and this is a time to be ready.  “They’ve knocked us down in the past but not this time…  There is a balm in Gilead, our unity is the balm.”
“The minister’s message was right on the mark,” said community activist Bruce Green a few days after the meeting. “The community is so scattered with everyone looking out for themselves that they’re taking us off one by one.  Bob Marley was right when he sang ,’They don’t want to see us unite, they don’t want to see us live together.'”  A participant in the Million Man March, Green contends that the effort caused change in the community, “a lot of serious commitments were made and promises were kept.”
“The Millions More Movement is necessary to bring nationalists and politicians together,” continued Green. “The plight of black people is the important part of our situation.  If you want to change the neighborhood, it has to be street by street and block by block. We see the common goal and work toward its solution.  This is the beginning.”

The bright, young library-goers and future writers, I.S. 35 students, seen standing with Macon Library librarian Bonetta  Howard (above), have much to smile about.  They will have more time to hone their academic skills at the Macon Library this summer as  renovations for the library are now delayed until fall 2005.
In other news, library manager Eleanor Adams reports that the library’s 1st Bed-Stuy Small Press and Creative Arts Fair on May 7 was a great success!
“Neighborhood residents were provided an opportunity to meet and listen to some of the community’s emerging and established writers, from authors to songwriters,” said Ms. Adams. “It was a learning experience and it was fun for all.”
Top-flight films by community producers were screened, including  Bryant McInnis’ Bedford-Stuyvesant: Beautiful Then & Now and Christine Randall’s The Reel Bed-Stuy.  Among other presenters were authors Javaka Steptoe (In Daddy’s Arms I am Tall), Nicola McDonald (Lusting for Love), Boniface Wewe (Witches, Wizards and Ghosts) and Ron Hughes (A Trip Through Heaven).  Samantha Thornhill offered a stunning one-woman presentation and songwriter-musicians Eric Frazier and Elijah Starr performed their respective original music.  There were wonders for the eyes as well, compliments of the Bedford-Stuyvesant Artists Association; on display were artworks by Fedrecia Hartley (Crucifixion), Cornell Jones (Totem), Halima Cassells (Mother and Child), Rose Jones (Freedom) and Emily Grote (Cosmos).
Ms. Adams said attendees “were very enthusiatic” about this year’s inaugural “Small Press/Creative Arts” event and “they want it back next year.”  A date will be announced in the future.