Pecola || camp nano

|| prologue ||

prologue

Finaliland

LOVING BLACK FOLKS WAS NECESSARY BUT DANGEROUS WORK. So dangerous of an action that it threatened the very construction of the world's social order and the human psyche and well-being.

That was what Aluta Baptiste of Eagleland had found out after finding herself in Finaliland 30 years ago after suggesting all the young Black children in her community sector should have free breakfast. That earned her the title of the Eagleland's most violent and heinous criminal that should be executed. Luckily, the state's attempt of assassinating her had been unsuccessful.

Otherwise, she wouldn't be retwisting the roots of her graying locs that cloudy Sunday morning as she took an occasional sip of her raspberry smoothie she was having for breakfast. She was sitting in her window sheet with the window cracked, letting some of the cool morning air in rather than letting the air condition run. The quiet sounds of the street she lived on was overshadowed by her quiet humming to distract herself as she got lost in her memories.

Just rethinking about what could have almost must be her life story if she had got political asylum in Finaliland also energized her, reminding her she needed to do something more for her people back home that she still loved. She would wish all the Black folks she had left behind, back in Eagleland, could experience this for themselves.

Maybe she could do something and pull some strings to make that wish a reality. Maybe get some Black college students from Eagleland that were passionate about Black liberation like herself when she had first come here herself to have an opportunity to study abroad. It would be a learning and fulfilling experience but also a break from Eagleland and the wishy-washy fake folks that lived there.

Yeah, that was it. That's what I'll do. She thought to herself. And with Malcom's approval, anything was possible.

That was what led her to include another task in her daily stroll after breakfast through the Finali township morning; she would have to go over to see Malcolm to ask a favor of him.

As she walked down the familiar and busy street to get to Malcolm's quiet neighborhood where all the old folks like to sit on their porches and nap throughout the day, she again found herself lost in time thinking about how she used to live back in Eagleland with a shudder as the Finali people greeted her with an "Good Mornin'" as they walked past or the racing children whipped past chasing each other on the sidewalks.

Whenever the children would get too excited and forget their surroundings, she would worry about them falling onto the green asphalt roads and possibly being hit by any of the peanut oil running cars that were whipping or cruising by. Or maybe the children would run through the community gardens without thinking, which could ruin some of the crops of the fruits and vegetables everybody had pulled together to grow for their food supply.

Back in Eagleland she would have been worried about the children being out too late or playing with toy guns in the park, or running to and fro as well as the other Black folks going in and out places, the homeless, and the oppressed. What if the police showed up to make quota?

But this fear becoming a reality amongst the Finali never crossed her mind here for the Finali had no police, no prisons, no homeless, or any type of poverty because the community was self-sustaining.The people could just be out and about with no fears, so they were more honest and careful with each other, more loving, more angry, more emotional. They didn't have the sort of unique fear only the oppressed and subjugated knew.

Finali were far more community oriented; they moved as one. And if you caught them on the right day, you might see the older folks teaching the younger folks how to cakewalk or any other old thing old folks used to do out of tradition; this was only successful when and if the old folks could catch them. And there was no great sadness hidden beneath the masks the Finali wore as faces. They were not tragically colored. They were free.