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| Chapter 14 L.A. Jail |
| jaenam |
2007-10-31 20:52:15, VIEW : 1,298 |
- SiteLink #1 : http://i.blog.empas.com/godandus/30710191_125x125_thumb.jpg
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Chapter 14 L.A. Jail
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Chapter 14 L.A. Jail
Chapter 14 L.A.
Jail
The next day I decided to go to Los Angeles and catch a plane to
Korea.
I promised Pawatakawa, that I
would return after visiting JeungSan Do Temple in Korea.
We departed after exchanging
addresses.
I had enough money for a plane fair to Los Angeles but not enough money
for a ticket to Korea.
At Los Angeles
airport I checked into a nearby motel and called home to ask for money.
My mother sounded worried for me but she
promised to wire money for me within couple of days.
I thanked her and soothed her not to worry
too much for me.
Despite her worries,
she sounded glad to hear that I wanted to visit Korea after so many years away
from my birthplace.
I had a day or two to wait until money came so I decided to tour Los
Angeles.
I took a bus whose destination
seemed to be downtown Los Angeles.
After
a few stops we came into a city district with many low-rise apartment buildings
stretched along side the road.
The
buildings looked worn out, as if they had been neglected for years.
Many black youngsters hung around on the
front steps of the buildings.
At every
stop the bus picked up passengers who were black.
After about twenty minutes the bus was packed
with black passengers and I was the only non-black person in the bus.
People were staring at me in a funny
way.
I must had looked strange to them:
an oriental wearing clothes that had not been changed for over a month, riding
inside an exclusively black bus .
Women
in the bus giggled as they stared at me.
I thought my situation was quite humorous myself and smiled back at
them.
The bus came to a place where an odd-looking tower decorated with many
car's hub-wheels stood in the middle of a junkyard.
The junkyard had many collections of statues
made with broken wires, junk cars and hub wheels.
The place formed an odd harmony with run-down
buildings around.
At that stop many
people got off and I decided to get off with them as well.
Across the street couple of girls were playing jump-rope.
There was a fence blocking the entrance to
the junkyard of the hubcap tower.
I
peered inside.
The place had a serene
quality of a meditation garden.
The
organized emptiness of twentieth century human waste made a statement of its
own, predicting the inevitable outcome of a physical god arising out of the
rusted rubble.
Down the street a bunch of black youths with leather jackets were
standing around in a circle.
They all
had similar emblems sewn at the back of their jackets.
I saw a glimpse of shiny metallic light being
reflected off the shiny hubcap at the top of the junkyard tower.
Then I noticed the enlarged reflection of a
knife blade from the hubcap.
The blade
turned red and dripped blood.
I turned
my head back to the group of youngsters circled down the block.
There were two young men fighting inside the
circle.
The larger of the two was
holding a knife and he was circling the knife to stop the approaching
opponent.
His opponent was smaller, and
despite the knife wounds kept charging at his larger armed opponent. I felt
alarmed and instinctively I ran towards them.
They must had heard my footsteps.
They dispersed into the streets except for the two who were
fighting.
I grabbed hold of the one
holding the knife from the back.
With my
left arm I grabbed him by the neck and with my right hand I grabbed his right
arm which was holding the knife.
Then
everything happened at the same time.
The smaller guy jumped at us and the guy's knife was thrown off from his
hand onto the street.
Suddenly, as if we
had all promised, the dispersed young men jumped into my view and they started
punching and kicking the youth that I was holding back.
Even I could feel the abuse of the punches,
yet it did not occur to me to release the youth from my locking arms.
I was stunned momentarily; unable to make a
decision.
I was swept into the
scene.
I heard sirens and saw flashing lights.
The youngsters circling me started running.
I was frozen on the spot.
The youth in my arms felt listless and
heavy.
I was about to lay him down when
I heard shrieking order coming behind my back.
"Get down and spread, you asshole, Get Down!"
My arms were yanked backwards by brute force
and my head was jerked forward.
The
youth who was in my arms fell forward with a loud thudding noise.
I felt handcuffs around my wrists.
I heard some clicking and the handcuffs
tightened into my arms.
It began to
hurt.
I was dragged into the police car
and thrown into the back seat.
The whole
thing happened so fast, yet I felt as if I was watching the whole event in slow
motion.
On the way to the police station
the policeman in the front kept saying while giggling, "We are going to deport
you back to China.
We'll deport you,
Chinaman."
When I got to the police station, there were two other black youngsters
who were caught from the same scene and brought in.
They acted as if they were at their high
school.
"Hey Rudie, isn't that the
fucker who was holding Jastan back?
Why
the fuck did he do that?"
"Yeahp, it sure is him right.
Hey
po--lice, loosen up my handcuffs, they're hurting my arms.
And when is lunch time around here?
I'm getting hungry, man.
Fuck, those police are eating their lunches
in their offices, Frankie."
The one
called Ruddie turned to me and spoke.
"Hey, you look like Bruce Lee.
Are you his brother?
I bet you
work at a video game company, right?
What's the name of that company, Sho-Sho-ta or somethin',
right?"
I was finger-printed and photographed.
Then I was walked through a barbed door.
At the front desk of the barbed door I had to give up all of my
possessions from my pockets.
Inside
there was a huge anglo-saxon guard waiting for me.
He pushed my shoulders and yelled at me,
"What's your name?"
Without a word I
looked into his eyes and held my ground firmly.
He was a little startled and taken aback.
Then with a gentler voice he asked me, "Where
are you from?"
I abruptly spitted out, "Korea."
"Hey, Hey, he is a Koong-Fu master, man, you better be careful," Rudie
yelled out behind me.
"Were you in
vietnam?
I bet you were a soldier in
Nam."
The jail guard continued, "I
served in Nam for three years...."
I
felt he wanted to tell me something but he did not.
I was locked into the first cell on the
left.
I felt almost relieved to be in a jail cell after what had just happened
that day.
I wondered what had happened
to the youth that was beaten up.
The
jail cell was surprisingly well lighted and clean.
There were four other people in the
cell.
I unobtrusively took the bottom
bunk bed at the corner.
There was a
general sense of uneasiness in the place.
The guy that was lying above my bunk yelled out.
"She-at, what are you in here for, China
Man?
This fucking cop arrests me for
parking my car at my own drive way.
She-at.
I got no business being
here, man.
Hey, you got a quarter, China
Man?
I got to make a phone call to my
old lady."
"No, I do not.
They took
possession of everything I had in my pocket when they arrested me."
I said.
"She-at, I am entitled to my phone call, man.
The police grabs me right in front of my own
driveway.
Who do they think they
are?
Rambo?"
There was a toilet right behind the jail-bar and above the toilet there
was a public phone.
"Why don't you make
a collect call?"
I asked him.
"She-at, call collect to my own lady!
No way man.
I ain't that
cheap.
She‑at!"
The man who was sitting on the lower bunk bed across from me yelled out,
"Hey, man, I was arrested for just walking down the street, man.
This is a police state, I'm tellin'
you."
Three more men came into the cell later that night before I fell asleep. I could tell they were drunk. The cell smelled of their liquor. The two black youngsters who were arrested
with me, Ruddie and Frankie, were taken to different cells. And I think they were both in different cells
because they yelled out to each other.
Their words were coarse and they spoke of the injustice. I fell asleep shortly afterwards. At early morning we were awakened and
everyone in the cell with me was called out.
I was left alone. I leisurely sat
on the toilet, thinking of the man at the upper bunk's holy proclamation on shit
last night.
I was served breakfast of Mexican food.
All of a sudden across from the hall a yell
came out, "Hey jailguard, hey jail guard!
I need a shot, man.
I need a shot
badly!"
I suddenly realized that I heard
that yell all night.
"Hey, Frankie, are
you there, man?"
"Yeah, I am here Ruddie.
Are you
enjoying your breakfast, man?"
"Breakfast?
Hey, how can you have
breakfast now, man?
Hey,
jailguard!"
His cry sharply echoed in
the hall.
"Hey, be quiet!"
The guard
barked, echoing longer than the cell man's yell.
Frankie's voice started to sing out
loud.
Ruddie joined in.
"Jailguard, hey Jailguard, come here man, I
am sick.
Come here!", both Rudie and
Frankie yelled out.
I could hear them
banging the bunk bed in the cell.
I heard the jailguard walking to them.
"Shut up!
Didn't I tell you to
shut up?"
The guard banged on the jail
bars and went back to his post.
After about ten minutes one of them - I thought it was Frankie - started
to yell out again.
"Hey jailgaurd, come
here, I am sick man.
I am sweating like
a pig, Hey jailguard, come here."
The
guard yelled out, "If you fucking junkies don't stop that yapping, I am going to
run down my stick into your fucking throats.
So shut up!"
This time Frankie yelled to Ruddie but in a smaller voice.
"Hey, hey Ruddie, I'm trembling, man.
Fuck, my hands are shaking.
I ain't no junkie.
Fuck, what's happening to me?
Hey, hey Ruddie, tell me of the black man's
history.
Hey, tell me how a
bad-mother-fucker black man made the evil white men."
"O.K. Frankie, this is it, so listen up," said Rudie.
"Hey man, Christianity teaches us that black
is a curse.
It teaches me to hate
everything black, including myself.
It
taught me that everything white is good to be admired, respected and loved.
It brainwashed this 'Negro' to think I am
superior if my complexion showed more of the white pollution of the
slavemaster.
This white man's Christian
religion further deceived and brainwashed this 'negro' to always turn the other
cheek, and grin, and scrape, and bow, and be humble, and to sing, and to pray,
and to take whatever was dished out by the devilish white man, and to look for
his pie in the sky, and for his heaven in the hereafter, while right here on
earth the slavemaster white man enjoyed his heaven."
While Rudie was saying this Frankie went on
agreeing with him loudly, "Yeahp, yeahp, you are right on,
man."
"Hey, Frankie, did you know that the first humans, the Original Man, were
a black people.
They founded the Holy
City Mecca."
Rudie yelled out to Frankie
and Frankie responded, "You bet brother."
"Among this black race were twenty-four wise scientists.
One of the scientists, at odds with the rest,
created the especially strong black tribe of Shabazz, from which America's
Negroes, so-called, descended."
Then this time Frankie jutted into the narrative as if he couldn't wait
untill Ruddie finished the whole story.
"And yeah, brother, about 6600 years ago, when seventy percent of the
people were satisfied, and thirty percent were dissatisfied, among the
dissatisfied was born a 'Mr. Yacub.'
It
is told he was born to create trouble, to break the peace, and to kill.
His head was unusually large.
When he was four years old, he began
school.
At the age of eighteen, Yacub
had studied at all of his nation's colleges and universities.
He was known as 'the big-head
scientist.'
Among many other things, he
had learned how to breed races scientifically.
"This big‑headed scientist, Mr. Yacub, began preaching in the streets of
Mecca, making such hosts of converts that the authorities, increasingly
concerned, finally exiled him with 59,999 followers to the island of Patmos -
described in the Bible as the island where John received the message contained
in Revelations in the New Testament.
"Though he was a black man, Mr. Yacub, embittered toward Allah now,
decided, as revenge, to create upon the earth a devil race - a bleached-out,
white race of people.
"From his studies, Yacub knew that black men contained two germs, black
and brown.
Even though the brown germ
stayed dormant and was weaker than the black germ, using the recessive genes
structure Yacub slowly achieved the bleached-out white race of devils.
This race, Yacub knew, would be, as they
became lighter, and weaker, progressively also more susceptible to wickedness
and evil.
"He set up a law on the island to kill all the black babies and only to
raise brown babies.
After two hundred
years on the island of Patmos all of the black people vanished and only brown
people remained.
After the next two
hundred years only red people were on the island.
Another two hundred years later, from the red
race, the yellow race was created.
Finally after two hundred more years later, the white race had at last
been created.
These pale-skinned,
savage, cold-blue-eyed devils were nude and shameless.
They were hairy, like animals, and they
walked on all fours and lived in trees.
Talk about degeneration of mankind!
"Six hundred more years later this white race returned to the mainland to
live among the natural black people.
Within six months time, through telling lies that set the black men
fighting among each other, this devil race had turned what had been a peaceful
heaven on earth into a hell torn by quarreling and fighting.
"But finally the original black people recognized that their sudden
troubles stemmed from this devil white race that Mr. Yacub had made.
They rounded them up and put them in
chains.
With little aprons to cover
their nakedness, this devil race was marched off across the Arabian desert to
the caves of Europe."
I knew that this version of Original Man story was as wrong as the Adam
and Eve story, but not because there was any kind of conclusive evidence against
it; in fact, if one thought about it, there were probably more evidences that
could back up this story than refute this story.
It seemed wrong to me because the future
based on this version of the past simply did not look
promising.
In my view a race that was born of unnatural cause, a race that was made
up artificially, could not possibly inherit the earth.
They could not bear fruit.
For such a race, their only path in this time
of Coming Cosmic Fall time was total extinction of its race.
And that was not an acceptable solution to
me.
Yet, I could understand that to any
blacks in America, this theory would strike a nerve center.
He or she might take a day to react, a month,
a year; he might never respond, openly; but one thing I was sure - when he
thought about his own life, he would see where, to him, personally, the white
man sure had acted like a devil.
Nevertheless, just as black and white could never be the other, to me,
the root of one could never be the other.
They were fruits of different roots with different cultural perspectives
and historical time frames.
Otherwise,
neither one of them would have a chance when the Cosmic Fall Time
came.
On the wall of my jail cell above the toilet there was the following
saying carved with a knife.
"Blacks
ain't born.
We be shitted.
That's why we be Black!"
"Yeahp! Yeahp!" They would yell out to each other with the
same story over and over at about every hour.
From their voice I could sense they were hurting from the side effects of
drug addiction withdrawal. Their story
was a way to take their minds off of the craved drug intake.
After finishing my
lunch I conducted my daily ritual of Tae-Ul-Ju chanting.
The soft yet reassuring sound of Tae-Ul-Ju
echoed in the cells.
"Hey who is
that?
Is that the Kung-Fu master?
Hey is that the Kung-Fu idiot who were
arrested with us yesterday?
Hey what are
you doing?"
Laughing I
answered, "I am meditating."
"Are you a monk,"
continued Ruddie.
"Hell, I knew you were
a Kung-Fu monk.
Hey, hey, hey jail-monk,
do that chanting shit again."
I did not
feel like performing for him so I did not respond to him.
I just lay on my bunk bed, wondering what
would happen next.
Noticing my lack of
response, he started yelling again, this time to the jailguard.
And this time I think his cry for help was
for real; "Hey, hey jailguard.
Let me
have one shot."
His voice pierced into
my heart and I felt I needed to help.
Then I started chanting TaeUlJu again.
Ruddie's crying stopped.
"Hey,
hey jailmonk," Ruddie was laughing now, "that sounds real good."
I chanted for about ten minutes and I could
hear Ruddie mimicking the chant.
"Hey
this is good.
Hey, Frankie, try
this.
Hey, jailhouse monk, can you slow
it down so I can copy you?
What are you
saying there, Humchi, humha what, chunsang wonga bong-ga and what?"
I laughed.
"All right, I will teach you the words.
Repeat after me, O.K?"
"All right,"
yelled out Ruddie.
We slowly chanted for about ten minutes
together.
"Hey, I like this jailhouse
monk.
Did you like this, Frankie?"
Frankie answered,
"I don't know, Ruddie.
I think you're
going crazy in here jail, Ruddie.
What
the hell does it mean - Humchi, Humchi."
Then Ruddie yelled
at me, "Yeah, jailhouse monk, what does it mean to say Humchi, Humchi?"
I thought about it
for a minute and answered, "It means I desire to find my root.
It means I desire to seek my origin.
It is the sound of humanity suckling on the
breasts of mother earth."
"What?"
said Ruddie laughing, "You're crazier than I
am.
Fuck, we gotta get high together
when we get out.
I wanna get high with
you, man."
That afternoon, at every
thirty minutes he called out to me and we chanted TaeUlJu together.
In the early
evening people came into my cell.
It
seemed my cell was for small time offenders who were scheduled to go out the
next day.
Ruddie still called out to me,
but this time I told him to try chanting by himself.
His hoarse sound of TaeUlJu reading echoed
the jail walls.
I felt satisfied
that I had taught him the chant.
Even
after dinner Ruddie kept on chanting TaeUlJu, yelling out to Frankie to join
him.
But Frankie would have nothing to
do with it; yet I think Rudie's chanting relieved Frankie's addiction withdrawal
pain because Frankie stopped yelling as well.
Sometimes I read with Ruddie but most of the time Ruddie went about
himself, "Humching".
I think the guards
figured that the chanting was better than yelling and left him alone to chant
all night long if that was what he wanted.
It was around
two a.m.
The sporadic sound of Ruddie's TaeUlJu
chanting calmed down.
I had thought
Ruddie went to sleep.
Lying on my bunk
bed, I tried to get some sleep myself.
But whenever I closed my eyes, a bright light came towards me and I would
open my eyes, startled.
I could hear the
mumbling of the guy lying on the bunk bed above me.
"That fucking bitch betrayed me.
How could she run away with him?
I'm gonna shoot that no good two bit pimp,
man.
I swear I will."
I thought he was sobbing.
The jail cell
turned dark blue.
Yellow trees grew all
around me.
My shoulder itched.
I got up and took my shirt off.
I could hear a drum beat emanating from the
next cell.
"Dum, Dum, dum, DuDum, Dum,
Dum," it said repeatedly, "Dum, Dum, Dum, DuDum, Dum, Dum." A tall black youth
walked over to me.
He had a huge grin on
his face.
I noticed enormous purple
wings growing out from his shoulders.
"Hey, jail monk!"
He slapped my
shoulder.
"I'm Ruddie."
He extended his right hand towards
me.
We shook
hands.
"I am
Kan," I said.
He flew up and I flew with him.
I realized I had a pair of big green wings
stretching out from my shoulders.
As we
flew up, the trees grew taller.
The
yellow trees pierced the clouds and stretched their shadows into the full moon
on the eastern horizon.
We flew into the
moon.
We flew towards the drum
beat.
It pulsated repeatedly,
"Dum, Dum, Dum, DuDum, Dum, Dum."
I answered with the TaeUlJu Song of Life and
Ruddie joined me.
Finally we came to the
edge of the forest and we landed on the highest branch of the yellow tree.
In front we were able to see a calm pond
extending into a golden wide open field.
I noticed Ruddie no longer had wings on his shoulder.
I checked my shoulder and my wings were also
gone.
"Jump," said the drum beat.
"Jump, Jump, Jump, JumJump, Jump, Jump," said
the drum beat.
I looked into Ruddie's
eyes with a smile and we both shook our heads.
Holding hands, we jumped.
While
jumping we passed by our dark blue cell blocks.
The mexican man who was lying above my bunkbed was still sobbing.
We kept falling.
My stomach floated upwards and was pushing on
my lung.
I could hardly breathe.
The moon that was floating in the pond
started to float upwards.
It rose like a
slow-rising balloon.
The moon caught us
before we could hit the pond.
On the
floating moon there was a tall black man standing above and staring down at our
fallen bodies.
His dark shape radiated a
golden glow.
We both stood up and bowed
at his presence and he bowed with us.
The moon landed at
a village.
"Come with me,"
the proud black man said.
We followed him quietly.
We came to an enclosed courtyard surrounded
by thatched-hut houses.
Goats and small
children were running around.
In front
of us to the left sat a man beating his drum.
Beyond him there were about thirty black men standing in a row on each
side, facing each other.
At the center
stood a towering chair covered with a lion skin and decorated with ostrich
feathers.
The black man who took us here
sat on the seat.
The drum beat
stopped. The men all bowed with us.
The
black man sitting on the chair spoke in Fanti. "Welcome!
You are at the home of an Aflao tribe," his
voice roared.
"Thank you for bringing
one of our sons to us," the chief said to me.
"Come to me," said the chief to Ruddie.
Ruddie walked up to him like a proud soldier with sure footsteps.
Upon Ruddie's approach, the chief stood up
and embraced him.
The chief sat on his
chair and Ruddie kneeled in front of him.
"I am your
ancestor," said the chief.
His voice was
trembling.
"I have only one thing to
tell you, my child," he said.
"Our days
shall surely come.
It is as certain as
the sun and the moon.
It is as certain
as I am your ancestor.
Yet, my child, it
is only you who can bring about the promised time.
It is only you who can take us back
home.
Along with the lost children of
Africans in
America, we are
all lost in our African continent.
The
days must come when our lost children come home.
The days must come when their bleached hearts
become as Black as mine.
Do not mix
blood, my children.
Do not bleach your
heart with mixed blood.
Greet the
blackest brides, my sons.
Welcome the
Black heart into your souls, my sons.
Let the Black blood flow into your veins, my sons!
Be culture, my sons.
Be black, my sons!"
Turning to me, the chief stared into my eyes
and with a full force roared into the air, "Let Black be Black!
Yellow sons greet yellow brides.
White sons greet white brides.
Red sons greet red brides.
And my black sons shall greet black
brides!
Come home, my black sons!
When you come home, we shall be returning
home.
We are watching you, my Black
children!"
The familiar bell
woke me up.
Names were called and people
lined up in front of the cell gate to be let out.
They would be taken in a bus to be
transported to a nearby courthouse.
"Hey, Jail monk!
Hey
Kan, Hey Kan!
Your name is
Kan, right?"
Ruddie shouted at me.
"Yeah, how did you
know my name?" I asked.
"Hey, jail monk, I
had the weirdest dream last night, man.
And it was more real than real, man.
Hey, Kan!
Your name is
Kan, right?"
He shouted at me again.
"Yes!" I shouted
back.
"Hey
Kan, we have to sing the TaeUlJu
Song of Life, man.
We have to chant
TaeUlJu.
Last night I saw things you
wouldn't believe.
And you were there
too.
Imagine that.
Fuck, I am coming home, man.
Kan, that's what that chief
man told me.
Do you catch what I am
saying?
He said, our days will
come.
He said when that day comes, I can
say to fucking white racists, I judge you man.
I judge you for your crimes on me.
Hey Kan, tell me more about
this TaeUlJu.
Tell me more about
JeungSan Do."
I told him that his
parents were living Gods mightier and greater than Jesus or Allah could ever
be.
"Shit, man.
You mean my old man?
Hell, man, he's a fucking janitor."
"Yes, I mean your
father who is a janitor!"
I said with a
full force and conviction that I did not think I had within me.
That afternoon a
sheriff went by my cell and told me that I was free to go.
I told Rudie to keep chanting TaeUlJu and one
day when he is out we will do TaeUlJu together.
I told him I was leaving for
Korea to find
out whether the dream he had last night was for real or not.
And when I come back I told him I shall look
for him and we shall do TaeUlJu together.
I gathered my
belongings at the front desk and walked out the police station.
I felt weary.
It was a bright sunny day; yet I felt
something was missing in the air.
I
walked around couple of blocks without much thought.
Then I stopped and stared into a poster
plastered on a telephone pole.
It
announced that the end of the world was coming.
It announced that Jesus was soon coming down from heaven for the
judgement day.
I thought, 'Yes, the
Cosmic Fall Time is almost upon us.'
I hitched a ride to
a nearby beach.
A long stretch of
gleaming white sand was dotted by occasional joggers.
The night was coming and the glowing red sun
was about to fall into the Pacific ocean only to rise
above the Korean sea.
This was the end
of the road for me in the
U.S.
A new journey awaited me in
Korea.
"No, it's not the end of the world that is
coming.
It's a New Beginning."
I said to myself.
I sat on the beach and looking into the sun
in the ocean, I chanted TaeUlJu.
(end of chapter 14)
http://www.xanga.com/elementfive
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The Dao Culture - Jeff Kraus-Talking about Tao, Dao center, Daoism, Taoism, I-ching, Iching, yin yang, and all
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