We Interrupt This Empire...

[Aslan Shamil]

Aslan and his partner notice Aleksadra in one of the larger malls in Moscow. She is alone. They follow her through the mall waiting for a chance to abduct her. They try not to look suspicious as they wait outside stores for her. She seems oblivious to their presence. Finally when she is done shopping and heads to her car, they approach her.
They grab her from behind and point a gun at her, ordering her to follow after them slowly and quietly. They take her back to their truck, call the others, and drive away. This time she will not escape the ordeal alive.

[Nea Jokinen]

"Nope, I lead the single life at the moment. Sometimes I really enjoy it though. Well I always enjoy it right when i get out of a relationship."

[Salome Weil]

"I've never dated a guy, never in high school or college. I'm just not interested in that kind of thing. There are more important things in life than dating."

[Lamumba]

Kasai spends most of the day touring the hospitals of Kinshasa. He feels depressed when he returns home to his wife later that day. There are just so many problems in the country and he feels an enormous pressure upon him each time he tries to change something. He goes to his room and reads some of the poetry of a former leader of Congo whom he admires.

[Nea Jokinen]

"Yeah, well its fun. At least to me," Nea shrugged. "I like the feeling that sometimes somebody cares for me. And it makes me feel attractive and wanted."

[Salome Weil]

"I have a hard time getting close to people. I think I was made to be a loner. But if that makes you happy, then more power to you. I am the odd one."

[Nea Jokinen]

"No your not the 'odd one' we all have something that makes us odd. Well makes us unique. I like that better." Nea smiled.

[Salome Weil]

"You know, you are a very accepting and open minded person. That is a good trait."

[Lamumba]

Kasai reads a poem from Patrice Lumumba, the first prime minister of Congo. He enjoys his poetry since it is thoughtful and because Patrice was a great leader. To him, the poetry is as true today as when Patrice wrote it.


WEEP, BELOVED BLACK BROTHER
A poem by Patrice Lumumba.

O black man, beast of burden through the centuries,
Your ashes scattered to the winds of heaven,
There was a time when you built burial temples
In which your murderers sleep their final sleep.
Hunted down and tracked, driven from your homes.
Beaten in battles where brute force prevailed.
Barbaric centuries of rape and carnage
That offered you the choice of death or slavery.
You went for refuge to the forest depths,
And other deaths waylaid you, burning fevers,
Jaws of wild beasts, the cold, unholy coils
Of snakes who crushed you gradually to death.
Then came the white man, more clever, tricky, cruel,
He took your gold in trade for shoddy stuff,
He raped your women, made your warriors drunk,
Penned up you sons and daughters on his ships.
The tom-toms hummed through all the villages,
Spreading afar the mourning, the wild grief
At news of exile to a distant land
Where cotton is God and the dollar King.
Condemned to enforced labor, beasts of burden,
Under a burning sun from dawn to dusk,
So that you might forget you are a man
They taught your to sing the praises of their God,
And these hosannas, tuned in to your sorrows,
Gave you the hope of a better world to come.
But in your human heart you only asked
The right to live, your share of happiness.
Beside your fire, your eyes reflect your dreams and suffering,
You sang the chants that gave voice to your blues.
And sometimes to your joys, when sap rose in the trees
And you danced wildly in the damp of evening.
And out of this sprang forth, magnificent,
Alive and virile, like a bell of brass
Sounding your sorrow, that powerful music,
Jazz, now loved, admired throughout the world,
Compelling the white man to respect,
Announcing in clear loud tones from this time on
This country no longer belongs to him.
And thus you made the brothers of your race
Lift up their heads to see clear, straight ahead
The happy future bearing deliverance.
The banks of a great river in flower with hope
Are yours from this time onward.
The earth and all its riches
Are yours from this time onward.
The blazing sun in the colorless sky
Dissolves our sorrow in a wave of warmth.
Its burning rays will help to dry forever
The flood of tears shed by our ancestors,
Martyrs of the tyranny of the masters.
And on this earth which you will always love
You will make the Congo a nation, happy and free,
In the very heart of vast Black Africa.

[Nea Jokinen]

"Thanks...I think," Nea laughs.

[Salome Weil]

"In any event, I am not sure what I am going to do now. If you want you are free to stay in Helsinki with me until I decide or travel with me and other anarchists once we find out. I am just torn right now."

[Heikki Toivonen]

Heikki returns to his apartment with his oatmeal and vitamins. He puts his groceries away proudly.
"Today I am a little more liberated. I do not believe in appetite. All food is the same. No food is better than any other. I only need oatmeal and vitamins to survive." He announces to himself in a proud voice.

He boils some water on the stove and prepares some oatmeal.

"All of those...OTHER people who are slaves to their appetites. I am above that. I am above everything." He says as he takes a satisfying bite of oatmeal from a chipped bowl.

[Nea Jokinen]

"Yeah I'll stay here." Nea nods. "I can study some of the design while I'm here."
She thinks about school but right now this is better for her.

[Salome Weil]

"Great, well if you need a place to stay in the city, there are plenty of Finnish anarchists you could room with. I can ask around if you like."

[Nea Jokinen]

Nea smiles.
"Thanks that would be great."