Yaccub's Curse

by Wrath James White

  Huey and I laughed hard at that even as the tears continued to fall. When we finally left the river I could hardly see straight I was so high.

  “Damn, that was some good weed!”

  “Hell yeah it was. Maybe I was wrong about that gray bitch. She might come in handy after all. Where you want to go now?”

  “You ready to go back ’round the way?”

  “Naw, ain’t shit to see there now. Besides, I don’t want to go watch my mom cry or deal with Iesha askin’ me a bunch of annoying ass questions trying to get me to express my feelings and shit. Don’t bitches realize that men ain’t like that? The last thing a man wants to do when he’s depressed is sit around and talk about why he’s depressed. You just want to forget about that shit. Get high. Get fucked. Whatever. You just want to forget. You know what I’m sayin’?”

  “True indeed. Let’s just drive around for a while then.”

  I hadn’t intended on driving back to the cemetery but somehow we both knew that was where we were going. We pulled through the gates of the Cheltenham Cemetery just as twilight darkened into night.

  There were no lights in the cemetery. Huey and I staggered around in the dark for the better part of an hour trying to find Tank’s grave. Since we hadn’t attended the burial we didn’t even have the faintest clue which direction to look in and checking each headstone with no illumination except my disposable Bic lighter was tedious.

  Huge gravestones, monuments, and crypts the size of small garages crammed every corner of the century old cemetery casting eerie shadows that recalled memories of old horror movies. We were so intoxicated that we were actually enjoying the search and the crawling superstitious dread that followed us as we stomped on earth beneath which the dead slumbered. We giggled as we tripped over gravestones and bumped into the large statues that marked many of the older graves.

  “This is the older section. He ain’t buried over here. He should be over there where all those little plaques are.”

  We were in total darkness by the time we found Tank’s modest little headstone, which was little more than a plaque stuck in the ground as Huey had said. We collapsed upon it in exhaustion and cracked open our forties. I eulogized our brother in my own way as Huey stared on in silence.

  “I remember how we all met. Remember how we almost killed each other and then wound up becoming best friends? Who’d have believed that shit? We terrorized that neighborhood so bad them niggas ain’t never gonna forget you. I won’t ever forget you, bro. You were my dog, my brother. Even if we didn’t share the same blood or come out of the same womb we shared the same spirit, the same soul. We been tighter than any two muthafuckas ever could be. We fought together. We laughed together. We got high together. We killed together. After all that time it was just in the last two or three days that I really got to know your big ass. I loved you man. You was one bad ass-kickin’ muthafucka and the game won’t be the same without you. I’m gonna miss you, bro.”

  We poured our forties out on his grave.

  “I wish there was some way we could have gotten him a cheesesteak hoagie to take on his journey. I know he’s hungry. That nigga’s always hungry.”

  “I was just thinking about planting some weed on his grave. That would guarantee everybody from the hood would visit him.”

  I stared at Tank’s modest little gravestone and something about it started to annoy me. They had put Tank’s real name on it, Anthony Turner, instead of the name by which he was known to all his friends and family. I took out a paint marker and wrote over the name in big silver letters; “Tank”.

  “Rest in peace, my brother.”

  We laid down on Tank’s grave, resting our heads on his stone. We rolled up some more of the weed and I took the seeds out and planted them in front of the headstone. We both inhaled deeply, choking and coughing, as we watched the clouds uncover the moon and the few stars that were visible through the city pollution wink on and off like Christmas lights. We were both wondering if Tank’s soul had made it into heaven.

  “I hope Tank is up there kickin’ God’s ass right now.”

  “Man, don’t say shit like that, Snap.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause it ain’t cool to be talkin’ about God like that.”

  “Don’t tell me you still into all that Muslim shit? I thought you gave that shit up when the Trade Center got smoked.”

  “Man, don’t start dissin’ my faith. You could stand to have Allah in your heart.”

  “No offence my brother, but Allah has done about as much for the Black man as any of these other gods, which is to say not a damn thing. You might as well be Catholic or Jewish for all the good any of that shit does.”

  “Allah is the only way we can save the Black community. If Tank had been down with it he might still be here today.”

  “Tank was down with the only God that ever helped anybody out ’round the way, the all-mighty dollar fuckin’ bill. But let’s not get into this. You don’t want to have this conversation with me now, Huey. You might get your feelings hurt. I just wish there really was a God up there. At least then I’d have somebody to blame for all this shit. It’d fuck me up to think we brought all this shit on ourselves and that White folks were able to fuck our shit up for hundreds of years without any help from the Great White overseer in the sky.”

  “See, that’s just what your problem is. You always lookin’ to blame somebody else rather than admit that you’re responsible for your own fucked up destiny. Now, I ain’t sayin’ them White devils ain’t conspired at every turn to keep the Black man on his knees. You know that don’t nobody hate crackers more than I do. I’m just sayin’ that brothers have sabotaged themselves so much that it ain’t been hard for them to do it. And if it wasn’t for Allah, the God of the Black man, who loves and protects us despite our ignorant self-destructive behavior, we would have never survived half the shit them devils have put our people through.”

  “Naw, man. It don’t work that way. I mean I hear what you sayin’ and all, but it don’t work. See ’cause this Black God who’s supposed to love Black people, he created White People. And Yeah, I know you’re gonna say that Satan or Dr. Yaccub or some aliens from space created White folks, but see god created Satan and if there are aliens then God created them too. If God is truly all knowing then when he created Satan, before he created Satan, he knew the man would rebel against him and create White people and that they would oppress and enslave black people. So if God knew what Yaccub or Satan or whatever was gonna do, but he created these muthafuckas anyway, than he’s directly responsible for what happened to Black Folks as a result. And I ain’t even sayin’ I believe that all White people are devils. I’m just sayin’ that, based on your theories, that’s what you get. If they were all devils then there wouldn’t be any nice ones. They would all be evil, but there’s no more evil ones as far as I can see than there are evil niggas.”

  “You just sayin’ that shit ’cause you bouts to try and fuck one of them devils. Muthafucka gets a little weed in him and wants to start getting’ all philosophical,” Huey laughs, “Okay, Socrates, what about personal responsibility? What about free will? Maybe nobody knew what damage these White devils would do until after they were created because of the unpredictability of free will. And Dr. Yaccub was a man too. Maybe God couldn’t predict what he would do either.”

  “How unpredictable are most muthafuckas you know? Free will ain’t that fucking confusing that it should throw off even a muthafucka of average intelligence let alone a muthafucka that’s supposed to be all-knowing. I could drive through this city and tell you who a muthafucka is gonna vote for in the next election just by the size of their house, the car they drive, and the neighborhood they live in. People just ain’t that deep. If God is all-knowin’ then free will is an illusion anyway because he already knows everything you’re ever going to do, every decision you will ever make, before you ever make them, before he ever even created you. Because that’s what all-knowin’ is, kn
owin’ all! Not knowin’ most or knowin’ some, knowin’ all. So if he created you knowin’ everything you would do then you could say that he created you to do those things because he had the choice not to create you. See what I’m sayin’?”

  “How you figure? You lost me, my brother.”

  “Put it this way. Suppose you was takin’ the Pepsi Challenge. You remember that right? When there’d be this little guy at a booth and they’d have a glass of Pepsi and a glass of Coke and you were supposed to taste it and pick the one that you liked best?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember that shit. So what?”

  “Now if God knew before you ever sat down to take that test that you would choose Coke instead of Pepsi and he would know because he created your very nature and the environment that shaped your character plus he’s all-knowin’ and infallible, could you then choose Pepsi and prove God wrong? See, because if God can be wrong then he ain’t perfect. He ain’t omnipotent. So if God knew you would choose Coke before he ever created your ass, what sense does it make to say you had the free-will to chose Pepsi if you had wanted to? When God knew that you wouldn’t want to? It wouldn’t make sense. That’s what I’m sayin’. Since God already knows every decision you’re going to make then free will is an illusion and he is ultimately responsible for every evil in the world. Since he created it all, he’s the first ’cause, then he’s to blame ultimately.

  “I mean if God knew that Hitler would kill eight million Jews before he ever created him then could Hitler have decided not to kill Jews or if God thought Hitler would just be a shoe salesman could Hitler have fooled God and gone out to kill Jews instead? Would you really want to worship a creator with so little control over his creations that some little punk like Hitler could fake him out? That would mean God wasn’t omnipotent or all-knowin’ and not really even all that smart. And if God knew that if he created Hitler what the man would do and he had the option of creating a Hitler who wouldn’t kill Jews, I mean if Hitler had been born in the Bronx in nineteen eighty I don’t think he’d have started World War II, or he could have not created him at all, but if God did do all this knowingly then he ain’t really such a nice muthafucka is he? The same thing with White folks, if God knew that the White man would murder, rape, enslave, and oppress the Black man for centuries, yet he created him anyway then just like they say in court, he ‘acted willfully and with malicious aforethought’ and caused the oppression of our people through his action or inaction. It’s his fault so how could you have any love in your heart for him? The muthafucka gets no love from me. None.”

  “So you sayin’ God is either evil or stupid?”

  “That’s exactly what the fuck I’m sayin’. If God is supposed to be all powerful then he could end the plight of the Black man at any time. He could have prevented it from ever occurring in the first place. You feel me, bro? He could end poverty and crime. He could get niggas good jobs so we didn’t have to kill each other to survive. But he don’t do he? Why? ’Cause he don’t give a fuck about us that’s why. We live like this because of him so how can you be worshipping him? It’s like worshipping the slavemaster’s whip. It don’t make no sense!”

  “My brother, you is one to talk.”

  “So, what you sayin’?”

  “I’m sayin’ you contribute to the hardships of the Black community by helping Scratch pump that poison, but you still expect people to love you.”

  I sat bolt upright in the grass.

  “Fuck that! Nigga, I don’t expect nobody to love me!”

  I knew Huey hated for anyone to call him “nigga”, even though he often used the word himself. It was part of that Black Consciousness thing he was into. But he had pushed my buttons so he deserved to have a few pushed back. I took some small pleasure in watching him struggle to ignore my use of the word.

  “Yeah, you do. You expect your Mom to love you. You expect your Grandma to love you,” He pointed to the grave on which we sat and I winced, “You expected my brother to love you…and you expect me to love you. Now tell me I’m wrong?”

  It was weird to hear another man say he loved me, even if he was like a brother or whatever. But I knew I loved him too. He had always been like family to me.

  “Yeah, Huey, but it ain’t the same.”

  “Ain’t it, Snap?”

  “I didn’t start this shit. I damn sure ain’t controllin’ it, and I ain’t in no position to stop it. I ain’t supposed to be all powerful, or all-knowin’, or anything. I’m helpless in all this.”

  “As long as you think of yourself as a victim that’s all you’ll ever be. You need to stop blaming God and take a look at the man in the mirror, dog.”

  “Man, fuck you!” I roared as I jumped up from Tank’s grave.

  I started to storm off into the dark, frustrated, and angry, and hurt, and knowing that I was right, wishing that I wasn’t so damn emotional so that I could make Huey’s ass understand my point. But my emotions just got so hyped up that I couldn’t get my point across correctly. When I get mad it’s so hard to think straight.

  I felt a hand grip my shoulder with tremendous pressure, causing pain and no doubt leaving a bruise as Huey spun me around to face him. His face was a mask of inhuman rage. I watched him struggling to get it under control so he could speak to me.

  “Fool, my brother is lyin’ in the ground over there partially because of your Black ass and I haven’t turned my back on you so you damn sure better not turn your back on me again unless you want to be lyin’ right beside him! You hear me, muthafucka? If you want me to understand then you sit here and fight it out with me and make me understand, but don’t you dare walk away from me!”

  I looked in his eyes and saw nothing I wanted to challenge.

  “You’re right. You’re right, man. My fault, dog.”

  I plopped down at the foot of a huge life-sized statue of the Virgin Mary. I sat with my chin on my chest, my elbows resting on my knees, and my hands dangling down between my legs. It was a posture of exhaustion and defeat. I remained in this position for several long seconds before I spoke. I never once looked at Huey who had sat down beside me and was waiting to hear what I had to say.

  “You know I’ve thought about all this stuff before. I didn’t just start trippin’ off it when Tank died. It’s worried at me for as long as I can remember. I ain’t just tryin’ to take the blame off myself. I know what I am—what I do. And I know that even with all the cards stacked against me I still had a choice of what direction I could have taken. But knowing who I am could you honestly have seen me making any other choices? I mean, I could have stayed in school and gone to college. I could have gotten a real job. I could have just lived off welfare or my mom or something. But could you really see me doin’ any of that? I chose this and I regret it everyday, but I made these decisions because of who I am and if there’s a God then I did it because of what God made me. I regret it all, but what’s done is done now and there’s no going back. I guess come Judgment Day I’ll burn in hell with the rest of the sinners, but is that fair if I really didn’t have a choice in what I became, if I was damned from the moment I was created?”

  “Come Judgment Day all Black men will ascend to heaven with Allah. It’s the White man that will burn.”

  “Yeah, but right now the white man is in paradise compared to us. We’re the ones in hell. It seems to me that judgment has already been passed right here on earth and we’ve all been damned!”

  “It’s just part of Allah’s plan. You have to have faith that he’ll make everything right in the end. Order will be restored. Believe that.”

  “Freedom after we are dead, or after our parents are dead, or those first Africans who were snatched from the Motherland and thrown in chains, is too little too late. We shouldn’t have had to go through all this.”

  “God had to test us to make sure we were worthy.”

  “Brother, please! If God is all-knowin’ then what the fuck does he need to test us for? He already knows if we are going to pass
or fail.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways his miracles to perform.”

  Like a tidal wave, my anger came crashing back down upon me. Huey was starting to sound like a mindless fanatic. I had always given him more credit than that.

  “Fuck his plan! If one little innocent child has to suffer for him to bring about his plan when he’s supposed to be so damned powerful then his plan is bullshit. It’s an injustice! You mean to tell me an all-knowing all-powerful creator couldn’t get his plan off the ground without the suffering of Black folks? And how the fuck are we supposed to deal with all this suffering and still love his ass when we don’t even understand his plan? What kind of God would ask that of us, dog? God expects us to suffer in the name of some divine plan, but he doesn’t even bother to clue us in on what the fuck this plan is all about and why he can’t do it without our children starving, and getting poor educations, and shot down in the streets, thrown in jail, excluded from jobs, denied proper healthcare. What kind of shit is that?”

  “That’s where faith comes in, my brother. We have to have faith in his wisdom.”

  “Is that what Allah said? Or was that Yaweh or Jehovah? ’Cause that don’t sound like no Black God to me. That sounds like the totalitarian philosophy of a rich, white, ends justifies the means, elitist, Republican God, who thinks it’s his duty to make decisions for these poor savages who are too ignorant to understand what’s good for them.”

  “Totali—what? Man, I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.”

  “I’m sayin’, only a White God would view human beings not as thinking, feeling, individuals, with their own hopes and ambitions, but as pawns to be sacrificed in the name of some grand cause without even allowing us to have a say-so. God believes in free will, but how can there really be free will when we have no choice in whether or not we want to participate in his great plan and don’t even know what the fuck it is? As if our opinions were irrelevant. We would assassinate a President for some shit like that or impeach his ass at the very least. But you don’t turn against God because you’re afraid of going to hell. A loving God that rules through threats and intimidation? Go along with the program or suffer eternal torment? Does that sound right to you, bro? Is that what muthafuckas mean by God-fearing? Worship God and he’ll save you from the hell he created for those who do not worship him? That’s a fucking extortion racket! And niggas just bow down to that shit like the slaves we’ve been conditioned to be. Well, this nigga right here ain’t bowing for nobody no more. Not God. Not no White muthafuckas. Not no niggas. Nobody! Any muthafucka that wants to see me bow better have the balls to face me and the strength to put his boot on my neck and press my forehead to the floor ’cause I damned sure ain’t doin’ it willingly!”