An Open Letter to Electronic Mujahideen
This goes to you, my internet terrorists. It did not originate from me, but from my brother-in-Net; a brother from another mother and another border. So if we talk, you think we are talkative. This dis-ease is epidemic. It’s me today, it’s you after today. So let’s fight it all…
My poem says so:
Master Refuge ‘G’
I am John The Baptist,
The desert-roaming artist,
With a proper prophecy to say.
My name is now Mr. Jay,
Then, ’twas Master Refugee,
Refuge Gangster, Mr. Refuge ‘G’.
For I walked all this continent’s
Four corners with a countenance,
Pertinent to its main four capital D’s;
Our African pestilences of no remedies:
I wandered and encountered Despair in the West.
I drifted to be encountered by Disease in the East.
I wondered but bumped into Destruction in the North.
I stopped not there and thinly missed Death in the South.
WOUNDED BY RUMOUR BOMB
Weapons of mass destruction,
Explode in Saddam City,
Words of most distraction,
Explore me in this sad damn city.
US and UK are aurally bombed by foe
But I’m orally bombarded by Joe,
An anonymous friend indeed,
In an ill deed,
An envious friend in need,
In a prying need
For mere humour
From sheer rumour,
Coined by my detractor,
My inner image tractor,
That ploughs me inside out,
For gossip scavengers to roam about.
If at all they would wound my body
Instead of my mind made thus moody.
My injured soul is sold to rumour hawkers.
My rumour mill has employed workers,
Inventors and ill-vendors of my private life.
But what goes around will around to them come alive.
The bombs make me hospitably marginalized,
But they do not make me notably hospitalized.
PRESCRIBED TO BE PROSCRIBED
Be not surprised.
It kicked off for my good.
I was prescribed in my mother’s womb,
And then proscribed unto my father’s tomb.
As if that was for good.
Be ye not that surprised.
I was proscribed from my mother’s boom
And subscribed unto my father’s doom.
I can blame it hardly upon my God’s,
I can blame my self-claimed gods,
Who for me prescribed
Ways of being proscribed.
By J. Penn de Ngong,
Chapter 20: My Self0graphy
Book: The Black Christs of Africa
06-06-06 — 12-12-12
UNMISS Statement : Freedom of expression and safety of journalists is paramount
Dear Electronic Mujahid,
Hello there. Welcome to my blog. Let me preface this letter by saying that in the event that you drop dead while browsing this page, I sincerely hope that you do indeed reach the highest level of Paradise as a reward for your noble jihad(ism?) In case that does not happen, let’s set the record straight.
You are probably here with the sole intention of making us stop speaking our minds both online and offline, probably by way of harming us. Since I am unsure what it is exactly that you want me to stop doing or saying, I decided to write you. The other reason quite frankly is that I think it’s a shame if we do not get to know each other better. You see, me as a blogger, and you as a blogga-hater, we both probably stumble on the same material online and such…
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