A Tale of Two Policings

It was the better of pullovers, it was the worse of pullovers. Rewind to the early 1990s and my first car. A Boston cop pulled me over on the corner of Newbury Street and Mass. Ave. It was a summer afternoon and the city was bustling with traffic, construction, and people. He came over, politely greeted me, and asked if I knew why I was pulled over. I told him, no.

He told me my inspection sticker was expired. Something in my eyes must have asked, and how is that a moving violation, because he briefly explained that driving without a valid inspection sticker was not only a violation (moving or otherwise), but (very important if you're a broke a$$ student) also a three-point surchargeable event (read: you just made your insurance company richer).

I told him I planned to get it done the end of the week when I took my car in for service. He went back to his cruiser. About five minutes later, on his way back he yelled that he was going to let me go with a warning. When he was about halfway over, his radio went off with some new business. He quickly brought over the citation, and told me to get it taken care of as soon as possible. He ran back to his cruiser. As he stepped in, he smiled at me, and told me to have a nice day. He then got in, busted a u-turn, and was out.

Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, thirty seconds from home in Cambridge, I got pulled over. Damn! I thought. Friday couldn't come quick enough. The cop came over right by my inspection sticker and asked if I knew why I was pulled over. I told him, yes, my inspection sticker. I got pulled over for it yesterday. I showed him my Boston citation, still in the car, and told him I was planning to get it taken care of tomorrow (Friday). That's no excuse he told me abruptly. He walked back to his cruiser. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed. I could feel the dread well up within me. I was on the most quiet stretch of my street and no one was around but me and this cop.

It doesn't take this long to write a ticket I thought. I wished he could just give it to me so at least I could be on my way, as mom was expecting me. Now I was late. Finally twenty minutes had passed and he was walking back. I was ready for me ticket. However, he didn't give me a ticket. He gave me an inspection test.

Press you horn he told me.
What? I responded.
Press your horn! I did.
Right signal.
I did.
Left signal.
I did.

He then stepped to the rear of my car. At this point, I got scared that this could be one of those things I saw on the news. Nobody was around, and this could go all wrong.

Press your brakes, he barked from the rear.
I did.
Again.
I did. I looked to my mom's complex, thinking, she's going to kill me for being late.

Then I saw a tall black, statue of a man at the top stair of my friend's townhouse. I could only see his silhouette, but the muscular stance was unmistakable. My friend's dad stood watching. He knew my car, by at least how much time his son spent working on it, and he was watching hard. Thank you Jesus, I thought. At least if $#!+ went down, there would be a witness. Or at least someone to tell my mom.

The cop came back towards the front of the car, looked through the rear windows, and to the under-body of the car. Now thirty minutes into the stop, he give me the $50 ticket and left. I waited until the cop was well out of site, before I exhaled and drove into my complex. My friend's dad intercepted me before I reached the parking lot.

Everything okay? He asked me in his Trinidadian accent. I saw, he said knowingly.
Yes sir, I told him. Inspection sticker.
He grunted, looked down and nodded. It's okay. Go on, he said, gesturing in the direction of my mom's place.

image from dreamtimes.com

Decision 2014 - The Fourth Quarter

The last quarter of a two-term, US presidency I suspect can be the most perilous. As a president, I imagine one is not only tired, but with nothing to lose but one's legacy, one might put all his chips on 44 black, or something. By now a president knows who his friends are. By friends, I means those who wouldn't push him off a cliff for the sake of maybe keeping their jobs.

The GOP's sweep may actually do more harm than good for the party. Now they actually have to do something rather than just be against something. I think they would have been better off saving their powder until 2016. Still, I do believe that bipartisan government is the ideal for a people as counterintuitive as that may seem. Some of my best teachers in life have been folks who's world views are opposed (anywhere from degrees to miles) from mine.

The GOP have an opportunity. If they use it well (unlike 2010), they could make a compiling case for the White House in 2016. It can even be gimmicky, say 20 bills (the people care about) in 16 months. Imagine that?

Unfortunately, hope is easy and change is hard. The older you get, the harder change is.

Mayor Menino: Ubiquitous

ebay.com

I heard the news about the passing of Mayor Menino, this evening on NPR, as I drove by Boston City Hall.

The first and second times I encountered Mayor Menino were in the same day. Back when my nieces were graduating from middle-school in Cambridge, I was surprised to find Mayor Menino speaking at their graduation, giving some simple words of encouragement. He couldn't stay long due to his scheduled, and apologized for having to run off.

Later that afternoon, I happened to be at Madison Park School in Boston, when in the gym I saw...Mayor Menino! I was flabbergasted. I marched up to him, and blurted out, "You were just in Cambridge this morning!" True to Menino's nature, he humbly replied, "Yeah, I get around."

Some Things I Learned About The Secret Service While Visiting The FDOTUS

It is much more diverse than I expected, in every demographic, except gender. The veterans appear to have the keen sense of how to put folks at ease, while switching gears depending on who and what situation they are addressing. They know more about The Whiite House than The History Channel. Even Bo Obama is safe.

Milk For The Children (and futebol)

Or leite por os filhos in the original Brazilian-Portuguese. A young carioca father said this to me in 2000, after I rebuffed his initial efforts to sell me a copy of the VHS tape he had miraculously mastered during our small cruise off the coast of Rio de Janeiro.

I stopped after my final goodbye to him after disembarking, because I didn't understand what he has said at the time. This easy going man had worn several hats during our day trip including tour guide, historian, videographer, and futebol coach during our pick-up game (brasileiros contra estrangeiros as the contest was dubbed) on the destination island. He couldn't quite get my name right so he just called me Nigéria, with pride.

My Brazilian-American buddy translated, and explained the significance of leite por os filhos. The brother was hustling to support his family. I certainly could appreciate that. At first I was hesitant to buy something so touristy, but then it occurred to me that the VHS tapes he was hawking, plus the cost of the entire cruise was still just slight more than half of the cost of my ticket to the Vasco club match at Maracanã stadium I had bought via our hotel earlier that morning, and would attend the following day. We bought two videos.

Two days later I would purposefully spend a 1000% premium (about three dollars US at the time) on a mini-pack of gum being sold by two kids under the age of five on Copacana beach, at past three o'clock in the morning. Meanwhile the acquaintances who had accompanied us, didn't even acknowledge the children's presence.

It's quite possible to have jugo bonito and leite por os filhos, at a fraction of the cost.

With My Vuvuzela, I Salute You Mandela

last.fm

Three years after watching on TV, Mandela lift the FIFA World Cup trophy in South Africa, I blew into my vuvuzela today for the first time. One short blast inside the house to represent his perseverance while imprisoned. One long blare outside, on my veranda into the night sky, to represent the freedom his release gave so many.

Remembering JFK

I remember JFK train station from my days at UMASS Boston.

I remember crossing JFK Street in Cambridge enough times to draw a picture from memory.

I remember visiting the JFK library, and did "see his 'D' at the Museum".

I remember visiting the Eternal Flame at Arlington National Cemetery.

I remember watching his brother preside over a swearing-in of new US citizens, aboard the aircraft carrier named after him.

I remember best, and still can't get out of my head after twenty years, an excerpt of JFK's famous speech, thanks to a college video editing project. Today it still inspires me.

Obama on the Aftermath of the Trayvon Martin Verdict

I held off blogging on the verdict because I did a lot of thinking, introspection, and wondering on the past, present, and future of race relations in America, including my own personal history. Like a lot of people I know, a cooling off period was useful. I believe President Obama's speech summed up the sentiments well, and is a good touchstone on where to go from here. Check it out, and let me know what you think about how we move forward individually and collectively.

Congressional Reaction to Sequestration

"I've never liked sequestrations, and I never will. I can never forgive them, for the death of my fun."

- Senator James T. Kirk

The Emancipation Proclamation At 150 Years

A happy new year indeed. On this date in 1863, a different United States president hailing from the state of Illinois; Abraham Lincoln, brought forth the Emancipation Proclamation.

What I remember being taught about the Emancipation Proclamation in elementary school was that it freed the slaves and brought a victorious end to the American Civil War for the North (i.e. armies of the Union). While this is not false, it's not the complete picture. Still, it was appropriate for that point in my elementary education.

It wasn't until I read, several years ago, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, did I get a deeper perspective of the Emancipation Proclamation. Most importantly the path to its birth, including the political jousting between President Lincoln and Frederick Douglass.

I learned that its purpose was primarily to end a costly war and reunify the fractured United States by defeating the South economically and militarily. More specifically, to end the economic engine of slavery in the South and enlist black men, able and willing to fight, for the the Union army. To expedite this, the Emancipation Proclamation declared that all slaves in states that had seceded from the Union were free. Now if you were a black man in 1863, that was a heck of an incentive, considering the alternative.

Without the Emancipation Proclamation and what it brought to pass in the history of the following century, odds are I wouldn't have volunteered for the military, nor I suspect hundreds of thousands of black men over the decades.  I salute you comrades.

A Well Regulated Militia...

...being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. That's the text from the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution. Unfortunately, the United States Supreme Court recently (2008 and 2010) decided arms possession is an individual right unconnected to service in a militia, without much guidance on how our nation might enact laws to bridge the gap between the inevitable errs of individual freedom and the duty of personal responsibility. 

If you Google "what is a militia", you (may) get this first result:

mi-li-tia

Noun
1. A military force of civilians to supplement a regular army in an emergency.
2. A military force that engages in rebel activities.

While the necessity of such a militia no longer exists today in the United States, the reason for such commitment in writing that such a militia be well regulated was clear then, and even clearer today.

Until we as a nation agree, enact, and enforce the "well regulated" part of the Second Amendment, we will continue to suffer the inexplicable loss of our citizens unconnected to service in a militia.

Remembering Why We Are Independent

This is a post I had drafted about four years ago but forgot to publish apparently.

I just saw The Great Debaters and am reminded that freedom and independence and democracy are ratified by each of us one debate at a time. Whether the parties be North vs. South, Choice vs. Life, Red State vs. Blue State, or Mac vs. PC.

Another Civil War?

Over the last couple of weeks I've listened to news reports, podcasts, etc. about how the passage of the health care bill has pushed political discourse to the edge of chaos.

The Left blames the Right. The Right blames the Left, and the Middle blames the media. There is a real danger of the fringe, with the proper combination of accelerants (rhetoric, hyperbole, and vitriol), becoming the mob.

The last civil war caused much of the social as well as economic fabric of the United States to be utterly destoyed. I pray our elected leaders consider how they might together heal the bruise before it becomes a sore.

When It's Time To Get Out Of The Way

When your boss is younger than you, you're no longer in charge.
When your president is younger than you, your generation is no longer in charge.

The Easy Solution To The Health Care Debate

For those in Congress who don't want health insurance reform now; they should give up their health insurance, now, to someone who doesn't have health insurance now.

If Toyota Were A Software Company...

1) It would be a laughing matter.
2) Aficionados would just wait for the patch to be released.
3) A bunch of us would just wait 9 months, and upgrade to a 2011 model.
4) A few purist would get a Toyota 2000.
5) Early adopters would just wait for the lastest ooh-aah from Honda at the next auto show.
6) There would be blogs, and forums littered with workarounds already.
7) Instead of the proverbial...well ah-well ah-well ah, Toyota customer service would simply say, "oh yeah...that's a bug."
8) Disabling the Prius' alarm system might resolve the issue,
9) A thread dump of the ECM unit would be quite revealing.
10) Turning the key to the off position, putting the car in neutral, and stepping on the brake, would mysteriously resolve the problem.

Where Does The Terror (List) End?

So, what gets a country on another country's list of terrorist states? I know that's not an official term, but that's what it is ultimately thought of as.

If a criterion is the nationality of the terror suspect, then what happens when a country ends up on its own list.

Happy 49th Nigeria

Nigeria gained its independence from Britain 49 years ago. So much has changed since then. From the bloody Biafra war, to the discovery of oil, to the curse of it that followed. From a military regime to democratic elections. From a dearth of landlines to a smattering of GSM mobile phones.

Then you hear about about the corruption of government, of the people, and you wonder what to make of it. Nigerians these days are remembered primarily for fraud and bad movies. It almost a caricature.

So where are we? Where does Nigeria plan on going. What's the point of it all. Some people are going back to Nigeria to be a part of the economic changes and opportunities going on in Lagos and Abuja, the capital. Some, are ashamed of Nigeria. Some romanticize it. Still others feel that nothing will ever change, and you either need to lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way

The Unemployment Numbers

Do you every think some employers use economic downturns to purge employees? In the immortal words of Arsenio Hall, things that make you go...hmmmmm.

What Do You Do When Some Movie Bad-Mouths Your Demographic?

Being Nigerian by parentage means I inevitably get asked about all things Nigerian that may appear in the media or some other avenue of pop-culture. To be sure, every culture has some media outlet that portrays it, at one point or another, in a negative light.

So what do you do about it? A filmmaker friend of mine, from the Democratic Republic of Congo, had some great advice when some film (a few years back) committed such an offense. "Make your own movie," he said. It sounded glib when I first heard it, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. This extends to books, blogs, whatever. Ultimately, to paraphrase Gandhi, we have to be the change we want to see in the world.