Weekly 11 – March 13, 2011



A pictorial account of Admiral Nelson's Black Dog fight with Rat & Gang
Images taken by yours truly, on tyical dark day in English sky.

One reader on the blog asked, ‘What happened to Rat and Gang?’  They went underground at the end of 2010 to make way for the launch of Weekly Bite of Joy.  But look what they tried to do to Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson in Trafalgar’s Square.  They were menaces running about creating ‘black dogs’ for everyone who took the bait.  Nelson nearly fell to the ground but got up fighting and the story goes like this......

In London's Trafalgar Square can be seen the country's memorial to the most inspiring leader the British Navy ever had, Nelson's column, erected in 1840, height of 170ft high and crowned with a statue of Nelson on the top and carved plaque with some of his crew. 

I went to visit his home place in the early 90s, Burnham Thorpe in Norfolk, a beautiful and peaceful place.  There is one black sailor on Nelson’s Column.  Most Londoners don’t even know that he is there.  The African slave is in a prominent position on the column.  I always love him as he looks so impressive in the uniform with a rifle. 

                 
Being so high up from the crowd Nelson is fed up with Rat & Gang’s weather condition.  His Black Dog is in a rage and has come out to have a fight with the group on the terms of letting go of their reigns on the weather so that people can have better moods.  Nelson is being pulled over by his Black Dog.  I hope he does not fall. 
     

Rat & Gang pulled Nelson into a fall and Black Dog was furious as he dived into them.

   

Black Dog dived into the Gang with its rage and fury but the Gang would not let on the weather condition upon the City.  Nelson had a hard time trying to hold up his spirits, as he continued the fall.

              

Black Dog was so angry that it turned into raging colors of fight.  He tightened his superman chest and went to a killer dive into the bellies of the Gang.  He did not stop his rage until they received  the fire of his power.

       
Black Dog whirled around and Nelson began to fall in the other direction.  By now the Gang felt his rage and the weather condition did done a turn for the better but Black Dog had more work to do.

Black Dog and the Gang battle it out as more darkness come over Nelson.  They swished whirled and dived at each other, as the fight brought on more darkness.  The Gang was not  going to give up the fight as the weather condition was their power rule over the over the people to have blacker dog moments.  The Gang loved the Brits and their moods.  They loved hearing  them whinge, day in and day out, during their daily lives.  Nothing suited the Bang more than to keep the Brits in misery.  They got their kicks like the ones on Route 66 but without daylight.  They loved being daylight robbers.  Nelson fell into the other direction.  There seemed to be no end to this monstrous battle that had no end.

Black Dog worked hard while more light came into the sky but poor Nelson is still in darkness.  Black Dog thought and thought as it dived in and out of the light to get some answers from his inner child.  Lo and behold it came.....

 Black Dog did it with the assistance of his inner child who brought light upon the Square.  

 ‘Whew’ said the Black Dog, as light spread London-wide.  Everyone began to get out of 

 their moods and miseries as their black dogs disappeared and pushing Rat & Gang 

 underground with positive mental attitudes  when adverse weather would come

 into their moments.  

Weekly 10 – March 6-12, 2011

A building next to the Royal Festival Hall on the Southbank of the Thames River.
I open the way for Ms Sciatica to escape for her sleep journey to a health farm.
Image taken by Deban [Ade]Aderemi

This week I marched Ms Sciatica to a Chinese Clinic for a deep therapeutic treatment.  What a scary ordeal we encountered.  As she got on the clinical bed, we didn’t know what to expect [her] being semi-naked.  We waited for the knock at the door for the practitioner to enter the small room surrounded by wooden tan panelling.  She asked Ms Sciatica to positioned herself belly down on the bed.  The practitioner asked our names.

Coco: What’s your name?

Ms S:  Ms Sciatica.

Coco: Who’s your friend?

Ms S:  Dorothy.

Coco: I’m Coco.  Coco.  Remember me, Coco.

Ms Sciatica & Dorothy: Hi Coco.

The practitioner turned on the CD player with Chinese music [female singer] on a very low volume.  While she buttered and warmed the oil into her hands she moved to the rhythm of the music. She stood in front of Ms Sciatica’s head and placed her oiled hands from her shoulders to the lower ribcages. The massaging looked smooth and moved with the rhythm of the music until I saw Ms Sciatica grip her hands into fists.  Oh my, I said silently.  I could see that the practitioner’s pressure into the body was getting heavy handed.

Ms S:  Silently, ohhhhh my goddd, it hurts.

Ms Sciatica frowned, made groaning noises and drugged her face deeper into the breathing hole of the bed.  I could see that she was hurting as the practitioner pushed down at every meridian point in the shoulder area.  Her tensioned toes curled under as knucklers  pushed deeper into the flesh.  At one point Ms Sciatica lifted her face out of the breath hole.

Coco:  Are you okay?

Ms S: It hurts but I can get over that, as she smiled.

After twenty minutes the Coco moved to the lower back for a short time.

Coco:  Which leg is it that has the pain?

Ms S:  That one, the left one along the back side.

Ms S:  ouchhhhh.  Ohhhh, Lawd.

I could hear Ms Sciatica soft moaning and sniffing in the nose.  At times her leg would jump as though having spasms.  Finally Coco worked on the right foot and ended the session of 45 minutes. 

Ms S: Thank the good Lawd it’s done.  You are a killer Coco.

Dorothy: Coco, the killer.  You did any excellent job on Ms Sciatica.

Coco:  Thank you.

Now it was my turn on the table for the Hopi Candle ear cleanser.

Coco: Turn to your right side.

Coco put one of the candles in my left ear.  She massaged around the ear while the candle burned down.  She it burned down the heat pulled up wax and other junk that was there.  She put the candle in a pale of water and showed me what came out of that ear.  It was half an inch of stuff on the candle paper.  Then the right ear had its cleansing and a little more wax and junk were sucked upward.

Ms Sciatica and I sat for a warm cup of water and had a chat with another Chinese lady to discuss the experience and to observe how we felt after the treatments.  After a rest we walked to Bus 98 stop.

Dorothy: How is the walking?

Ms S:  It’s good.  My back feels straight.  No pain in the back of my calves.

Dorothy:  Take it easy.  Don’t walk too fast.  Your back is straight.

We arrived at the bus stop at High Holborn and sat on the iron seats.  The bus arrived in no time and we got a couple of front seats.

Dorothy: You looked as though you were having a hell of a time on that table.

Ms S:  If you had felt what that woman was doing you would have screamed to high heavens.  It was so painful, as though she was digging a pole into my flesh.  I thought she would never move from the shoulders.  Could you see what she was doing?

Dorothy:  She was rolling her knucklers into your flesh.

Ms S: It felt like a broomstick.  I was so tearful and my noses were running.  I wished I had taken the gum out.  I couldn’t keep it around the gums.

Dorothy:  You should have let it fall through the breathing hole [on bed].

Ms S:  She didn’t stop one time to ask if I was okay.

Dorothy: She did when you lifted your face up [smiling].

Ms S:  I am glad that is over but I do feel lighter.  My shoulders feel like they are not there and my neck feel so good.  It was so painful.

Dorothy: What was happening when you curled your toes under?  Your poor leg was pouncing up and down.

Ms S:  The pain felt like hard worms trying to get out.  The more they wanted to get out the worse the pain but the pain finally escaped. 

Dorothy:  She seemed to have squeezed your swollen foot like an orange. 

Ms S:  That was one painful foot.  I thought she was going to tickle it but she didn’t.  I felt a kick coming on [smiling] if she had. 

Ms S:  I was surprised that my lower back, waist and buttocks weren’t painful but they did not have any pain and she stayed in those areas very briefly.  45 minutes were a very long time to be tortured [smiling].  In three weeks another session is on the books.

The bus is crossing Oxford Circus at Regents’ Street for its next stop at John Lewis department store. 

Ms S: Let’s stop at Primark and view the new collections.

Dorothy: Okay, but you should be home in the bed for your body to settle down.

Ms S: Just a little peek, please.

Dorothy: Okay.

By the time we got half way down the ground floor of the store Ms Sciatica started wobbling from side to side.

Ms S:  I think we should go.  My feet are going numb.

Dorothy:  Okay.  Can you stand up?  Hold on to this rail and put one of your feet across an ankle and bend your standing leg.

Ms Sciatica followed my instructions.  She stood there for a moment; we walked to the bus stop for home on the other side of the street.

Dorothy:  What a disappointment? I was beginning to enjoy the viewing of the new items.

Ms S:  Another time, my dear.

We hopped off the bus at Selfridges and headed for the home front towards Duke Street entrance.

Dorothy: It’s a shame that Peter is leaving.

Ms S:  Who is Peter?

Dorothy:  You know, the six-foot, good looking English doorman.

Ms S: Oh, that guy.  He looks so good in his black suit and top hat.

Dorothy:  I love his, ‘Hi darling.’

Ms S:  You do love when men give you those English manners.

Dorothy:  Why not?  Don’t we deserve good manners?

Ms S:  I guess so.  I like them as well.  I don’t get so many as you do.  It’s that smile and white teeth of yours.

Dorothy:  Yeah, baby.

Ms S: Can we stop for a moment?  My feet are numbing.

Dorothy: Let’s sit on these steps near Lacoste and its crocodile.

Ms S: While we are resting I have a confession to tell you, Dorothy.

Dorothy:  Okay, out with it.

Ms S: I use to hate when you went to yoga classes.  I did not want you to get rid of me.  I deliberately agitated your legs just to stay around.  I liked all the attention and the loving care you gave me; but I was jealous of your walking, the stretching, the TaiChi and meditation.  I just wanted you for myself so I continued to give you pain.  I hope that you can forgive me for my selfish acts as you didn’t deserve these unkindly deeds from me.  I do thank you for your love but I feel that I will be leaving shortly with new treatments from that Chinese lady, Ms Coco the killer massager.  She could feel what I was up to and I want to say goodbye and hope you many years of walking and doing the things you love to do, being out in the environment and learning.

Dorothy:  Thank you for your honesty and I, too, hope to be enjoying my new walking soon.  Goodbye and rest easy as Coco put you to sleep in a couple of weeks and may your holiday be an everlasting journey.

Peace at last as both of us laid our heads on the pillow for a restful nap.  Three hours later Ms Sciatica was in semi-sleep. 

Weekly 9 - Feb 27-Mar 5, 2011

One of 20 images of Ruby from my portrait studio self-image project
An Interior Design graduate from the American Inter-Continental University, London

The 28^th was the last day of Black History Month [USA] and the start of International Women’s month for March.  Black History Studies recognize black woman who have made a mark upon our history in different forms or another.

I remember writing a speech on Ida B. Wells while in high school.  We all had to make a speech as part of the English curriculum requirements, one a year to pass.  She was many things: a journalist, activist, suffragist and anti-lynching crusader of the post-Reconstruction period.  She had a passion for justice for her people. 

Billy Holiday’s classic song, Strange Fruit, examined the history of lynching and its play of the black race.  Actually the song was written by a Jewish schoolteacher and union activist [Bronx].  The teacher [Abel Meeropol] was disturbed by a photograph of two black men being lynched, to write and put to music, the song Strange Fruit.  This poem is a reminder when racial terror raged through Southern America, only to see blacks and whites working together to stop it.  You can view my own image of a lynching as part of my collection of slavery images, Twist in Time Story of the Ancestors.

Strange Fruit by Abel Meeropol

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Zora Neale Hurston is another black woman, first, to enter American literary establishment as a novelist, pioneering anthropologist.  She established the African American vernacular as one of the most vital and inventive voices in American literature.  She had an inspiring upbringing, as her father was a preacher, mayor and carpenter; and she was surrounded by a community of proud, self-sufficient, self-governing black people who were immersed into African American folklore traditions.  Her mother encouraged her often to [in her way] “jump at de’ sun” and never let being black and being a woman stand in her way of her dreams.  She has achieved beyond her wildest dreams.  I see myself in this woman.  My grandmothers [teacher and housewife] did the same for me in the encouragement department.  

Other women to give honor to this month are grandmothers Susie Anna Hattie Elizabeth Myers and Anna McCuller, aunts Mattie Thompson and Ida Jane Myers, Rachel Gray Galliant and Katherine Mallory [educators & writers], Arletta Thomas Boles [IT Administrator] and Miriam Ruth Neely Holder [classmate & first black female Mayor of Lumberton, Mississippi] and myself, of course [educator of the year, IT Admin & Executive PA, photographer, painter, singer, poet & writer and a up and coming printmaker.

Weekly 8 - Feb 20-26, 2011




Speckled Light, my image from Regents Park, I waited for the 4:30pm sunlight to light up the center.

 I walked into Spanish Place, passed the famed Wallace Collection of French Fine Art, crossed over George Street, at its top end, with an approach to St George Catholic Church where actress  Vivienne Leigh got married.  At the church’s gate entrance stood two priest dressed in grey attire like St Francis of Assisi with sockless feet in leather strap shoes.  One of them went inside the church and the tallest one with salt and pepper short cut hair stood to one side of the black wrought iron gate with a foam cup of liquid. 

I smiled at him and asked what was going on at the church since it was after 3pm and Saturday’s Mass wasn’t until 6:30pm.

Me: I haven’t seen your order here before.  What’s going on today?

Priest: It’s ‘A Day With Mary’.  We travel to different churches every weekend to celebrate Mary.  You sound American.

Me: I’m a southern from Jackson, MS by the way of Gallup, NM.  You sound Irish.

Priest: Actually, I’m Australian.  I went to American some time ago.

Me: Which part?

Priest: Indiana.

Me: Indiana has lots of Catholic brethrens.

Priest: Do you attend this church?

Me: Yes.

Priest: Do you live far?

Me: Nearby.

We walked inside the church to get a leaflet on One Day With Mary for the next events.  We stood at the top of the entrance’s steps for more chat.

Me: How long have you all been here.

Him: We have been here [London] for 10 days.  We come every year for this event.  There was only one day of sunshine and lighter today with some rain.

Me:  I don’t worry about the rain and the weather in general or it will pull you down.  As for me, I move myself around the different weather conditions.

Him: It can pull you down.

Me: You’re right about that.  I see it as me moving the rain and not it moving me, with my cheerfulness and smiles; and all else will follow.

Me: A female clerk at the bank this morning said to me, “how are you in this dull and rainy day?”  I am great [smiles stretched across my face]!

Me: I’m not worried about the rain.  It has nothing to do with me being great today.  I move with the rain.  It’s cleansing energy.

Him: You must have lots of energy.

Me.  I do.  I eat lots of veggies and fruit a day.

Him: I lost 15lbs during my last fasting and now I am back eating more and I have more energy with a little bit of tuna with the diet.

Me: Keep smiling while in this part of London as people energy levels are low.

Him: I will.

Me: As my part in this spiritual journey I do my best healing people when  on walkabouts along the streets and personal friends.  I try my best to lift their spirits by wearing bright colors in the winter.  A lot of people are not spiritual in London with all the running around, here and there. This is the least I can do.

Him: [He smiles with teeth showing] God sent you to meet me today.  What a blessing.

Me: What’s your name?

Him: Shabalah. [my spelling]  It’s an Arabic name.

Me: It sounds lovely as you roll the sounds around in your vocal cords.  [He smiles]

Him: What’s yours?

Me: Dorothy, but not on the red brick road but the grey pavement of London.

Him: Okay. [a big smile with glittering light in eyes]

We both smiled with laughter.  I bid him farewell and walked towards home.

Weekly 7 – February 13-19

Setting off into the dark of day to take any bus to Wardour Street stop, I landed on Bus 390 and sat in the front seat beside a blind Englishman, about 50ish years.  All buses were on detour for the next six months for the preparation of the CrossRail at Bond Street Station.  The bus travelled from Oxford Street, into Duke Street, into Wigmore Street, into Henrietta Street, Vere Street and finally back to Oxford Street, as the recorded female voice announced.  The next stop was at John Lewis department store. 

Man: Why is the bus detouring?

Me: The Cross Rail is being constructed for Bond Street Station

Man: Why are they doing that?

Me: The Cross Rail will provide quicker train travel into London for people who live outside of London.  Instead of an hour’s journey Cross Rail will cut down travelling time by half.

Man:  I use to live in London long time ago but it’s too crowded  now.

Me:  It’s very crowded with so many people coming into London from miles away for jobs.  It’s not like it use to be 25 years ago.  People come and go and never raise their heads to speak to anyone.  It’s so sad that people have become like cattle, rushing here and there.  One woman nearly was hit by a car until I pulled her by her coat.  She was still on her mobile and barely looked up and never said ‘thank you’.

Man: I guess that’s what it has come to these days.  No one wants to be bothered.

He glances towards my direction, as he sat in the seat next to the window.

Me: Are you getting off at this stop?

Man: No.  I am going to the end of the line.

Man: You sound American.

Me: Yes, I am.

Man: Where from?

Me: Gallup, New Mexico, next door to Arizona.

Man: My brother married an American woman and they live in California.  I was shocked that he could buy property there.  Not these days in London.  One has to go through so many loops to get on the property ladder.  I use to have property in London.

I missed the Wardour Street bus stop as he was talking and I did not want to stop him.  He paused before saying the next sentence.

Me: I am getting off at the next stop.  Have a good journey and it was a pleasure talking to you.

Man: See you.

Weekly 6 – February 6-12

He was dress in traditional navy woollen cap, duffel coat with toggle fasteners down the front, navy trousers and newly black shined shoes.  One could tell that he wasn’t one of those poor pensioners.  He started a conversation where he was the story teller and I listened.  At first I thought he was flirting but as the conversation lasted throughout the 30 minute journey he just wanted to talk. 

The OM meditation, I receive weekly struck a chore on stories.  It went on to say that  everyone has a story to tell if we take the time to listen. We hear stories of people in the news or read about them every day. We, at times lose track of the random stranger on the bus also who has a fascinating story about where they came from and how they got to be where they are. The sheer variety of paths taken in this life, from housewives, to CEOs, to homeless people, are indications of how much we can learn from each other. There are so many amazing life stories and the biggest dreams to be heard and it is up to us to take the time to to listen with joy.

As we travel through life there are many people on a path of wealth and privilege, while others struggle from day to day just to get by, like me, and both have great stories to tell. Each person learns lessons, makes choices, and develops a unique perspective, which only they can claim and share. Even two people who have had very similar lives will have slightly different experiences, leading them to a different point of view. Each person remains a treasure trove waiting to be explored. When we take the time to ask questions and listen, we find that every person has a fascinating story to tell and an utterly unique perspective from which to tell it.

While on Bus 88 to Tate Britain to take photographs of a particular tree with unusual branches, an elder man sat across the aisle from me at the front of the bus near the bus driver. From a sitted position he appeared to be 5’6’’ tall with a slender built.  As the bus drove down Regent’s Street towards Piccadilly, he asked me if I knew where he should get off for Vincent Street in Pimlico by showing me an address written on the back of a lottery ticket slip.  He stated that he had asked the driver and that he was on the right bus but he was unfamiliar with the area in which he was going.  I told him that I only knew of one Vincent area that was in Victoria [Vincent’s Square near Westminster Cathedral].  He said that it was not in that area.

Man: I’m going to this address.

Me: You’ll find it. The bus driver will help you.

I sat back into seat and face front.

Man: London has changed so much since I came here many years ago.  I can hardly remember what was there, all those new things in the windows [shops].  I use to work for Immigration checking in 1000’s of people every day for 35 years.  There were so many of them.

The bus stopped into Trafalgar’s Square, near the Canadian Embassy building, with crowds of people at the Chinese New Year’s celebration.

Man: Why so many people here?

Me: It’s Chinese New Year’s celebration.  It’s every year. 

Man: The bus will turn left up there [pointing towards Charing Cross].

Me: The bus will turn right into Whitehall at the junction.

The bus moves slowly with the Sunday’s traffic.  He looked to both sides of the street.

Man: I know where I am not.  We will turn right at the light [pointing in the direction Westminster Abby].

He stared off into space through the big bus window and would come back with more conversation as though he had to go out into space to get it.  I just smiled and said hum-hum, through the nose, between his conversing throughout the journey.  He was Italian from the sound of his accent.

Man: I am 87 years old and I have a few more years here.  I told my daughter that she is 50 years old and need to support herself.  I give her £50, £200, £500 sometimes but she does help herself.  Her mother left long time ago.

He went into silence and came back with....

Man: I helped this 20 year old boy in my community.  Gave him £20 many times to get him on his feet.  He is now a millionaire; invites me to his home. 

He went into silence and came back with....

Man: There was another guy that I helped.  He’s a millionaire, too.  Lives in Leicester.  Invites me for meals at him home.  He has a beautiful house.  He did very well.  He works in music.  He comes to London to see me sometimes.

He smiled as he slid out of his seat, holding on to the pole, moving towards the bus driver’s cabinet waving his lottery ticket with directions hand printed on the back.

Man: I use to tell her [daughter] to take care of herself.  Her mother left long time ago.  She comes and goes waiting for me to go so she can get the house. 

As the bus got closer to Tate Britain I started counting the stops.  I saw his street on the opposite side of the street and pointed it out to him.  He smiles with a thank you.  We got off at the same stop.  Off the bus he walked hurriedly towards for 30ish people and showed them his directions.  I followed him and walked him back the way we came to his street.  I felt that he was ashamed to forget but he walked with me and I stood on the opposite side of the street until he crossed over to Vincent Street.  

Man:  Thank you.

Sometimes we have to looking forward and upward to remember as times moves on and thank the good Lawd some can remember at that age.

Weekly 5 – January 30-February 5

In honor of Afro-American Black History, Lena Horne who passed in 2010, black soldiers and Booker T. Washington [google image]

Every moment is like this...a full day of moments in stories.

Story One: As I approached Ryman for the post office a 6-foot guy was marching up and down that section of the street with a Starbuck large cup in his hand appearing to be very frustrated.  He approached everyone shaking this cup at each person and each person dropped their heads when the cup came to them.  Fashion was the parade of this moment in designer this and designer that but this parade did not come into this guy’s mind he just wanted people to put enough donations into the cup for something to eat.

When he approached me, I smile and said God bless you I have nothing for today.  He stopped in front of me and said, ‘Everyone’s just passing me by and all I want is some breakfast.’  I nearly had tears while saying, ‘I don’t have enough today.  He was so sad.  I watched him rush up the street towards more people.  I was tempted to give him my class supplies funds but I didn’t have any extra to give over.  I felt bad because this guy is standing near the post office entrance with his dog selling the Big Issue magazine.  He was always neat and cleaned and spoke to me with, ‘How are you today, good to see you.’  Leaving the post office I looked for him but he had moved on.  I wished that I had thought in the beginning to invite him to breakfast on my debt card.  I was too hurried going to the next place to have thought of this.

As the morning moved forward on the top deck of bus number six, Oxford Street west, at Primary [fashion retail store], an older gypsy woman was tormenting the public by pulling at their arms to donate money to her out reached right hand.  Even the police shooed her away but she gave him words with her shaking finger to his face.  What a contrast for one being in need and another being a nuisance.

Story Two:  The day moved onward in the moment of exiting bus 74 to the Science Museum. Four drinking characters, one female and 3 male in their 20s, approached me.  I thought to myself where do I go to avoid them.  There was no place to walk accept in the middle of the street.  The four of them, in a single, row spread across the pavement. I walked a slow pace in hope that they would not noticed me but one of them came straight towards me waving his, nearly empty, bottle of liquor and swaying to my right with a big smile on his masquerade painted face.  All of them had a different painted face and clothes.  The guy that approached me had black paint smeared from his blonde hair to the bottom leg of his jeans.  It was cold and he had on a short sleeve t-shirt.  I learned from previous meeting with drunks is to stop and give them the room to move onward.  This guy held out both of his arms in front of me with a big smile on his face.  He got closer and just hugged me and gave me a kiss on both cheeks.  I smiled.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Dorothy.’

‘Hi, Dorothy, you’re so lovely.’

‘Thanks’, looked him into his blue eyes.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Paul.  I’m an Auzzie.  Do you know where Auzzies come from?’

‘Yes.  Australia.’

He gave me two more hugs, as though I was his best friend. His companions called for him to get a move on it.  He wobbled, willing, with them and said, ‘Bye Dorothy.’

Having an open heart with joy can help even a drunken situation.  Whew!  It was nice to have the hugs and not even sobered people have given me squeezes like Paul’s, smile.

January ended and February begun  the start of Black History in America.  I am so excited to be working on an extension of my slavery project which keeps evolving into another story.