Semper Fi To Malachi - The Raid Part One

Semper Fi to Malachi

The Raid Part 2

I was in the barn. That was a building that was built as a barn, but we had no animals on the land that we needed to tend to where we would need to store things for those animals, so a few brothers arranged the barn in a way that brothers (that’s what we called each other), could stay there and not have to travel back and forth to Atlanta or whatever city, state or country they came from. I was upstairs in the barn and as I was changing my clothes, preparing to go to the gate, I could hear the radio being keyed as if someone was leaning or pressing on the button as if to talk, but no one was talking. One brother looked out of the window and told me that he thought I needed to get to the gate. I immediately ran to the ladder to get down to the ground floor so that I could head to the gate. If someone told me I needed to get to the gate, I was on it.

 We had whites occasionally harass us at the gate. Not all whites, just a few of the antiquated thinking ones. I’ve been shot at a few times. One time about 6:00 AM when I relieving another brother we called “Twin”, (actually we called his brother “Twin” also). As I was relieving him, and at the same time I was putting my things in the gate house,  I heard what I thought was a car backfiring. I came out to see what was happening and then the rest of the shots were coming closer as I was attempting to go back inside the gate house and get my equipment. It was a total of six shots. It didn’t make sense to call the Sheriff’s Department. Who knows? They may have sent them to do that to us. We have been harassed so much; called the Sheriff’s department by way of 911, pointed to the vehicle that had the occupants harassing us on the side of the road and the deputy just drove on down highway 142. One night, while at the gate, a sports utility vehicle pulled up and two young whites were in the front seat and a broom stick came out from the back and the person at the other end of the stick, and old white guy, put the broom stick to my chest and told me that I know what this could have been. I looked at him and walked away. What could I do? If I did anything, they would have had witnesses against me sitting in the car.

I left the barn and ran down to the gate. I was going to the barn by way of the grass where we had what we called the  Gadush Dakka,  the “Holy Site”. We affectionately called it, “The Communications Site. The communications site was an area built by Dr. Malachi K York where you could sit on a seat with a round background and someone else was at a similar seat facing you approximately twenty five yards away.  You could communicate with each other without yelling to each other. You could talk to each other in a normal conversational tone. In the past, way before we encountered Celtic people, we were able to communicate this way as a people. It was a site where we were able to communicate with our ancestors.  

Muiyn, (we had other names for each other), came running down from the boys house which took him down the street that had the thirty two flags flying. (He went to the other realm a few years back and he helps look over us and answers some of my prayers). He was running to the gate also. In our culture, we typically have African or Egiptian names for each other. Muiyn was an outstanding drummer and he used to teach the boys drumming. He was originally from Chicago. I first met him on the mountain. That was some property that we had around the Catskill Mountains, upstate New York outside of a town called Liberty. That was definitely not weather for Melaninite Children. We have a group now we call the Muiyn drummers, named after James Thomas, affectingly called “Muiyn”. Africans in America who are culturally aware like cultural names because names like Ned, Ted or Fred, all sounds dead.  I guess that’s why I loved the Marine Corps. They were more flamboyant. I liked the statement, “when you are the best, it’s hard to be humble”. Of all the cultural groups in America, the Nuwaubians are the most flamboyant. When you are the best, it’s hard to be humble. the Nuwaubians are the best because of facts. Don’t give me beliefs, give me facts.

As Muiyn was running towards the gate, so was I, but I was coming across the grass by way of the communications site. I saw SUV’s rolling onto the property with blue lights flashing on the vehicles and inside the windows. I thought that maybe we had some escaped convicts on the land so I was running to the gate to tell them some of the areas some people could hide on the property if there were some escapees here. After all, we had children on the land.  So focused was I on the gate, that I didn’t even notice the two FBI agents walking towards me. One of them said to me “Get your hands up, we already have Reverend York and his wife in custody. My thought was, Oh shit. How do we get to him? The most dangerous people on the land that day were Sheriff Howard Richard Sills and the FBI.