by Omar Tyree
“Yeah, that makes sense. But I didn’t have X, Y, and Z either. So tell me what you mean,” Roy pleaded.
“You do have it! That’s why you can’t understand me now! Your parents gave it to you!” Troy shouted.
“Hey, you all, we’re closing up!” a staff member yelled. They were the last four students left inside the cafeteria. As they packed up and walked out, Roy tried to get the last word in.
“I’m trying to understand what it is you’re talking about, Troy,” he said.
Troy smiled. “Ay’, man, keep searchin’. I’m just trying to make you into a soldier. You gonna be important soon. And we need all the people we can get.”
Two days later, with finals approaching, Troy remained unfocused. He was tired of studying so he decided to venture to Bruce’s room to chat.
“Ay, what’s up, mayn? You ain’t studying?” Bruce asked, opening his door to let Troy in. “I thought you’d be studying every day now.”
Troy grimaced. “Cuz, what I don’t know now, I ain’t gonna know. This is one of my don’t-give-a-fuck-about-homework nights.”
Bruce cracked a laugh. “Yeah, mayn, ’cause you been too worried about that race shit. It’s ripping you apart,” he said. “You sittin’ around in your room every day worried about what White people got and what we ain’t got. I mean, it’s their world, cuz. What do you want us to do?”
“It’s not their world, Bruce, and I want us tothink ,” Troy answered. He sat on Bruce’s bed and thought a second. “All I wanted to do at first was go to college and get a nice job. But now I understand that I’m on a mission.”
“Yeah, well you bein’ all mad at the world won’t change anything,” Bruce told him. He got up and shot his small basketball into the toy hoop attached to his mirror. “The way I see it is this: the White people killed for this country and they ain’t tryin’ to give it up, especially not to us. No matter what you do, it’s gonna be White people in your way. So you might end up being an old, grouchy man for the rest of your life,” he predicted, lying out across his bed.
“Yeah, man, I’ve heard that a million times, and I’ll never accept it,” Troy told him. He got up and shot a hoop himself. “I just gotta get out of this environment. When I get on Harriet Tubman’s campus, I’ll have the atmosphere that I need to think and grow. Beause like y’all keep tellin’ me, it ain’t no sense in hating White people. That ain’t gonna change nothin’. Plus, I’ve had some excellent White teachers. I need to think about that. But see, ignorant White people are set up as a distraction to us. And all Black people are set up as a distraction to them, to stop us all from realizing that we’re being deceived by a few rich White men who rule the world.”
“You keep talkin’ ’bout that shit, cuz. How do you know about dat?” Bruce quizzed.
Troy sat back on the bed. “Because it makes sense.
There’s always a big boss who’s runnin’ the show.
That’s how European society is. You just gotta know the history of the aristocracies and fascist oligarchy.”
Bruce giggled. “Shit, cuz. Now you droppin’ shit that I don’t know shit about. Fascist oligarchy, hunh?”
“Yup,” Troy answered with a smile. “That’s a system where a society is ruled by a few who use the state against the people to stay in power.”
“Like a con man, paying off the police, hunh?”
“Yeah, only these con men are rich enough to pay off countries and leaders. That’s how big this shit is.”
“Yeah, cuz, I thought you and Matthew was supposed to study for a test,” Bruce said, changing the subject. He never seemed to remain on one issue long, and Troy was developing a reputation for being a race preacher.
“Man, Mat ain’t trying to help me out,” Troy said, frowning. “He been hidin’ from people ever since he got that four-point-oh. He used to help me all the time. That damn chemistry lab test is on Monday.”
Bruce shook his head. “See, mayn, in this world, White people got everybody goin’ for self. That’s the real reason why we can’t get nothin’ done.”
“Yeah, ’cause when me and Mat had about the same grades, everything was cool. But now since he got that four-point-oh, everybody wants to smother him,” Troy added.
“Can you blame him, though, cuz?” Bruce asked.
“Naw, man. I guess you just got to survive the best way you can, hunh, Bruce? But then again, it should be the responsibility of successful blacks to help their people, no matter what. The world is hard as shit for all of us.”
Bruce nodded his agreement. “That’s it.”
“Now I think of all the times that I said, ‘Fuck the next nigga’ in my life,’ “ Troy commented. “I guess what we need is full cooperation.”
Bruce grinned at him. “I don’t know if you ever gon’ figure this out, cuz. But if you do, when you talk about Black cooperation, it may never happen.”
Troy sighed. “Yeah, cuz. I know.”
ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE
IT WAS THE LAST WEEKEND BEFORE FINALS, FRIDAY NIGHT. TROYtried once more to lock himself in his room to study for his upcoming exams. They would complete the first semester of his sophomore year at State U. He continued to dwell, however, on the possibilities of a more adventurous lifestyle. Yet he could not stop thinking about a cure for the racial plague that White men had caused in the world.
Bloomp bloomp bloomp.
“Yo, Troy, man, it’s me.”
“Come on in, professor,” Troy yelled through the door.
“I need a haircut,” Scott said on entrance.
“Cool, cuz. Hop in the chair,” Troy told him. He stopped studying at his desk and set everything up to cut Scott’s hair. He could use the break. “You want your regular cut?”
“Yeah, just block it up again,” Scott answered.
“So what you gon’ do tonight, Scott?”
“I was gon’ study for finals.”
“That’s what I was trying to do,” Troy told him.
“What you gon’ teach me today, scholar?” Scott asked.
“You the professor. I’m just searchin’,” Troy responded with a smile.
“Well, scholars are the best people to teach, ’cause you’ve already drained me of all that I know.”
“Man, you know how people are, though. They never wanna hear the truth. The world is full of big white lies, and they’ll just call me crazy,” Troy said.
“Well, keep searchin’, scholar, ’cause I figure you’ll know a whole bunch of shit, eventually,” Scott assured him.
Troy completed Scott’s haircut and showed him the finished job from a small hand mirror. It had taken only twenty minutes.
Scott was pleased. “You gettin’ better every time,” he said cheerfully.
“Each time I cut, I learn something new,” Troy told him.
“So why can’t we be like the Japanese?” Scott asked Troy, suddenly. He sat on Troy’s bed and gave his full attention as Troy pushed his chair back under the desk and sat on his dresser.
“Man, the Japanese have always been closer to the White people, to me. That’s why the Chinese and Koreans don’t like ’em,” Troy answered. “Japan has this arrogant attitude that they should control all of the Orient, just like the WASPs (White AngloSaxon Protestants) feel they’re superior to other White people. But I do give Japan credit, though. Them and Ethiopia were the only nations of color that held off White imperialism prior to World War Two. But what you ask me that for?” Troy queried.
“Because the Japanese look like they’re beating the White man in his own game,” Scott answered.
“Yeah, well, that’s bullshit. Germany is still on top and Great Britain ain’t that far behind,” Troy snapped. “Rich-ass White businessmen rebuilt Japan. And then United States got Japan to demilitarize.
“Now, I don’t give a fuck what Japan has done technologically; if they ain’t got no military against the White man, they ain’t got shit. I even read that a lot of the American carmakers and investors
have shares in Japanese companies.”
Scott nodded. “I heard that too.”
“Yeah, ’cause after a while, Japan got to the point where they thought they could be as powerful as the European nations,” Troy went on. “Japan even fucked Russia up at one time,” he said. He then stopped and thought to himself. “Dag, cuz. I gotta control my mouth. I really do curse a lot.” He shook his head and smiled.
“You told me your girl was talking about that,” Scott alluded. “But then Japan bombed Pearl Harbor,” he continued.
“They say that they could’ve gotten to California if they would have flown on course,” Troy informed him.
Scott was puzzled. “Are you tellin’ me we could have been invaded?”
“Yup. And the White people thought about who it was and had a race thing where they wanted to show the colored Japanese that they were still White and superior by dropping the A-bomb and locking Japanese-Americans in concentration camps,” Troy responded. “But I think Pearl Harbor was set up. They had radar or somethin’ that they could have warned people with.”
“So you think everything is set up?” Scott asked, smiling again.
“Just about, man,” Troy charged. “See, you have to understand that White people are like mad scientists. They experiment and plan things in advance. ’Cause when you think about them wars and about the armies needing supplies and food, you come to the conclusion that somebody was getting paid.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Scott said.
“Yeah, man. The United States was supplying weapons and food during World War One and World War Two. European nations owed the United Statesbillions of dollars. World War Two also got the United States out of a depression,” Troy said. “But the thing that got me was that the United States ended up in debt after all of it was over. So I did some research to find out that Europe had established the Bank of England in nineteen sixty-four, that wasn’t controlled by the state. This bank could basically do what it wanted. They could even loan countries war money.
“Now, how ’bout that, cuz? They’ve established the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. And see, these banks can set up their own laws for world currency, accounts, and loans.”
“Well, isn’t Japan the most technological country in the world now?” Scott asked. “Theyshould be makin’ a lot of money.”
Troy shook his head. “Japan uses a lot of their government’s money and loans to perfect technology, but the United States supplies most of the information. Ain’t that somethin’? It’s like the United States is setting the whole thing up. But then they make it out in the news like Japan is all that America is, just using them as her international enemy.”
“Like Russia, hunh?” Scott quizzed.
“Yup, now you got it. ’Cause I never been able to figure out why the U.S. keeps talkin’ about Russia. Then these so-called superpowers run around the world makin’ money off of Third World countries in these fake wars.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, man,” Troy said. “Most of the wars in South America, Africa, the Caribbean, the Middle East, and a whole lot of other places are funded. ’Cause you figure, if these countries are so backward, where do they get their weapons and stuff from? The U.S. and Russia. Then the people fight over some so-called democracy while their land is being raped of its resources and their government goes further into debt.”
Scott shook his head in disbelief. “Wow,” he said.
“This all makes perfect sense, if you think about it.”
“You damn right it makes sense. Theories say that it’s a few rich White men setting up the whole thing with this good guy/bad guy stuff and using religion as the middleman.”
“Yo, you should write a book one day,” Scott suggested.
“Naw, not yet, ’cause I don’t know enough yet. But I’ll definitely think about it, if I ever learn to write well.”
“Dag, man, I know brothers back home right now doing nothing,” Scott responded. “And here you are up in college finding out all kinds of stuff.”
“But don’t give up on ’em, man, ’cause everybody is good for something, even if it’s just being your company,” Troy told him. “My buddy Raheem said that Black people need money, though.”
“We do,” Scott quickly agreed.
“Yeah, because we’re trapped inside of this capitalistic system,” Troy said. “Booker T. Washington said that we have to make our labor profitable. We also gotta set up a Black economy. Raheem hooked me on that too.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, well he’s right. Everybody needs necessities.”
Troy sighed. “Man … I just feel like droppin’ out of school to be an entrepreneur sometimes,” he revealed out of the blue. He stretched out on the bottom half of his bed while Scott sat at the top half. “I get bored in college now. But I feel it’s my duty to learn somethin’ for African people while I’m in here.”
“Yeah, why you call us African peoples, man?” Scott asked, grinning. It was something he had wanted to ask Troy for a while.
“Well, life started with one people and divided into many. So if you want the source of mankind, it’s us, and we have the genes to produce all other colors,” he answered. “Africans are the common denominator of man and it’s important that we begin to recognize who we are, no matter if we are in Africa, America, Jamaica, Brazil, Israel, Asia, Europe, or on Mars. And every Black man and woman is just as important as the next.” Scott chuckled and nodded his head in affirmation. Troy then snuck a peek at his clock. “Yo, man, that’s it. Study break is over,” he announced.
“All right then, man,” Scott said, getting up to leave.
“Aw’ight, Scott, I’ll catch you on the rebound.”
Troy found himself in the school library Saturday morning, taking out a couple of books. He was studied out. He had planned to read a few books over the rest of the weekend, instead of studying more chemistry. He still could not find Matthew, and he couldn’t seem to put two and two together with his lab notes. Again, Troy needed at least a high B to pull his grade out of the hole. On the way back to his dorm he ran into his old roommate.
“Hey, Troy, how are ya?” Simon said, reaching out for a handshake. He looked down at his old roommate and smiled. “You’re getting tall as me, guy.”
Troy shook his hand and smiled back. “They say that some people keep growing.”
“So what’s been going on?”
“I’ve just been studying and reading shit, man,” Troy said. “But I found out a lot about Jews, Simon. I found out a whole lot of bad things, too. But I can’t say ’em, ’cause you’ll probably call me an antiSemite.”
Simon frowned. “Naw, man. Like I told you last year, I really don’t care about all that.”
“That’s good. Because a lot of Jews are just not being truthful, man.”
“I see you’re still into that racial stuff,” Simon commented.
“Yeah, but I’m not a racist.”
“What makes you think that?” Simon quizzed. He was bewildered, wondering what Troy’s disposition was.
Troy grinned as he answered. “I would have to have some type of power to discriminate against another person of color to be racist,” he suggested. “So what can I do, scare a White person and be called a racist? All I can do is talk. And most of the time, when Black people are called racists, it’s because we’re talking about something that’s true, and White people don’t wanna hear it.
“Blacks don’t have any power to be racists. But Jews do. In Israel. Or is it Palestine? Or what was it before that, Simon?”
Simon couldn’t believe his ears. “You know what, Troy, you won’t get far in life with this polar attitude that you have,” he warned. He was angry and ready to move on. But Troy was pressed to get in the last word.
“It’s funny that, you mention that Simon, ’cause it seems to me that no matter what kind of attitude African people have, you White people still try to control us.”
Simon shook hi
s head and walked away, leaving Troy feeling a pinch of guilt. Simon had been a good roommate to him and a good man.
Test day had finally arrived and chemistry was first. Troy had counted on Matthew to help him, yet he had no such luck.
He entered the auditorium hallway along with hundreds of White students and a few specks of color. He looked around for Matthew and spotted him easily. Matthew stood like a giant over everyone. He had always been tall but he had never stood out as much as he did on test day.
He spotted Troy moving toward him, pushing White students from his path. They did not bond when they shook hands; they nodded and remained impersonal toward each other.
The instructor opened the door and the students hurried in. Troy walked in slowly, watching for Matthew. He knew he needed his friend’s help, yet he figured he would try his luck with guessing first.
Students were nervous and jumpy, selecting seats near one another. Troy suspected that many would cheat. He sat down on an end chair by himself, next to a group of five eager White girls. He zipped down his coat, took it off, and placed it over his right arm.
Matthew walked in calmly, oozing confidence, and took a seat in the middle of the auditorium. Troy watched him while still needing his help and fighting a losing battle with his conscience about not asking for any. He got up swiftly from his seat and circled around the back of Matthew like a swooping vulture. His New York friend didn’t comment at first. Then he quickly turned and smiled.
“Yo, troop, what are you sitting behind me for?”
“So I can cheat,” Troy frankly answered.
Matthew’s nervous smile faded. “Yo, man, this is the finals. You gotta go for self now,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’ll sit right next to you so nobody can cheat off of me.”
Troy suspected from the time he saw Matthew hiding behind the White students that he didn’t want to help. The tests would alternate, and if Matthew sat next to him they would end up with different tests. Nevertheless, only the order of questions would be different.